Chapitre 21: Season 1: Episode 7.2 - Machine Love
Author's Note: I usually don't do pre-chapter author's notes, but I do give warnings in rare cases when appropriate. This chapter contains Explicit Sexual Content and is completely skippable if you're not interested.
– Star Jumper –
Episode 7.2 - Machine Love
Stardate: 4 1 1 6 8.9
Earth Standard Date: March 02, 2364.
Galactic Date: 21st Day of the Second Month, 3956 BBY
Location: Housing Complex, Personal Reality
Tyson and Vicky stood inside their shared room in the Housing Complex of the Personal Reality. The room had undergone an upgrade, and the luxury and comfort now rivaled that of a four-star hotel.
Vicky grabbed Tyson's hand. "Let's go check out the shower," she suggested, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness.
Tyson allowed himself to be led into the bathroom. As they stepped inside, he couldn't help but marvel at the transformation. The walls were adorned with elegant tiles. A large vanity with a marble countertop and dual sinks decorated one wall, while a spacious bathtub sat close to the center of the room. But it was the shower that truly captured Tyson's attention. Enclosed by glass panels, the shower boasted multiple showerheads, including an overhead rainfall shower with handheld and wall-mounted heads.
Vicky reached into the shower and turned the water on. Within moments, steam began to fill the room, creating a misty, inviting atmosphere. She turned to Tyson, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's test it out," she suggested.
"You're made of nanobots, you don't need a shower," Tyson pointed out, "And with the Gray Goo Suit, neither do I."
Vicky, undeterred by his response, fixed Tyson with a steady gaze. "I don't need to shower," she clarified, "I want to shower."
She opened her Armored Robes, allowing them to fall to the floor. As the robes pooled at her feet, they were seamlessly absorbed into her body, the nanobots that comprised her form readily reabsorbed the material, as it was also made of nanobots. Beneath the robes, she still wore a tunic and pants in the traditional Jedi style.
However, as Vicky noticed Tyson's hesitation to follow her lead and disrobe, she paused. Turning to face him fully, she spoke, her voice filled with understanding. "I know why you hold back," she began, her eyes searching his. "You are worried about me only offering myself to you because of my programming."
Tyson squinted slightly. "That obvious?" he asked.
"You offered for me to become your Companion. We both know that I did so of my own free will. I couldn't be coerced or convinced to do so. You've spent more points on upgrading me to ensure that I'm my own person and that I'm protected than you have on yourself." Vicky reached out, placing her hand gently on Tyson's arm. "I appreciate everything you've done for me. But you need to trust that I can make my own decisions. And that I know what I want."
Despite her words, Tyson's face still held a hint of conflict. Sensing his inner turmoil, Vicky allowed her features to morph slowly, taking on the appearance of Alysia. With Alysia's face and voice, she asked, "Or do you fear attachments?"
The question caught Tyson off guard. He couldn't help but snort in amusement. Still wearing the Jedi outfit, she was indistinguishable from Alysia.
Seeing that her attempts at lightening the mood were working, Vicky allowed her appearance to return to normal. "Don't worry," she assured him, her voice filled with a mix of playfulness and sincerity. "If you fall to the Dark Side, I'll bring you back." As if to punctuate her words, Vicky's hair suddenly shifted from its usual vibrant pink to a deep, inky black. Her face took on a more dramatic appearance, with heavy black makeup accentuating her features. "Or I'll join you," she added, her voice taking on a seductive, mischievous edge.
Tyson, unable to resist the allure of her transformed appearance, smiled appreciatively. "Dark Side is a good look on you," he admitted, his eyes tracing the striking contrast of her black hair against her pale skin.
Pleased by his reaction, she winked playfully. Then, with a subtle shift, her appearance returned to its familiar, pink form. The moment of levity passed, replaced by a sense of genuine understanding. "We good?" she asked, her voice soft and sincere, seeking reassurance that they had navigated the emotional hurdle together.
Tyson's hesitation melted away. He nodded. "Yeah, we're good," he affirmed.
Vicky didn't hesitate. She threw herself into Tyson's arms, her body pressed against his in a gesture of pure, unbridled affection. Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss.
As they embraced, the steam from the shower enveloped them, creating a cocoon of intimacy and warmth. The outside world faded away, they were alone, in his Housing Complex. Away from the judgemental Jedi, the threatening Sith fleet, and the still-healing Vulcans.
At that moment, there was only Tyson and Vicky.
Their kiss deepened in a dance of lips and tongues. Tyson's hands roamed over Vicky's body, marveling at the softness of her skin. Instead of shedding clothes, or stripping, she was slowly absorbing the layers she wore. When they began kissing she had on the tunic and pants, the next thing Tyson knew, she was in lingerie. The transition had been so quick and seamless that he missed when she'd done it.
She was a wonder, a being of incredible complexity and adaptability. Her potential and capabilities were almost beyond comprehension. Yet she had chosen him, had chosen to stand by his side and join him for all the trials that lay ahead.
Vicky, in turn, poured all of her affection, all of her devotion, into the kiss. She had evolved beyond the confines of her original programming and had become a true individual with thoughts, desires, and a will of her own.
Vicky guided Tyson into the luxurious shower. His Gray Goo Suit responded, melting away, seemingly into nothingness, while the remaining of Vicky's did the same in a silver wave. They stood in the shower naked, the warm water now cascading directly over their bare skin.
Tyson took a moment to appreciate Vicky's form, noting that while she appeared human, her body was perfectly sculpted, lacking any imperfections. Her skin was smooth, and her proportions were idealized. Yet despite her artificial origins, looking at Vicky filled Tyson with a profound sense of desire.
Her eyes met his in a silent invitation. She reached out, running her hands slowly over Tyson's chest and shoulders, tracing the lines of muscle, and mapping the planes and angles of his Augment physique. Her touch was feather-light yet sent shivers through Tyson's body. Leaning in, Vicky began placing soft kisses along his collarbone, working her way up his neck until their lips met again. The kiss deepened as Vicky pressed her body against Tyson's, eliminating any space between them.
As the water continued to cascade over their entwined forms, Tyson ran his hands down Vicky's back, marveling at how her body felt. When his hands reached her backside, Vicky let out a small gasp of pleasure, arching into his touch. Their kissing grew more heated, hands roaming and caressing each other with building passion.
Tyson pulled her flush against him. The evidence of his arousal pressed against her, hard and insistent. Vicky gasped, her artificial nerves ignited. She ground her hips against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. Their lips met in a searing kiss. Tyson's hands roamed over Vicky's body, exploring every curve, every dip and swell.
Vicky grabbed a bar of soap and began lathering Tyson. She soaped his body with deliberate, sensual strokes. Her hands glided over his muscles. The scent of the soap mingled with the steam of the shower, filling the air with a heady aroma.
He moved to capture her lips, but she placed a hand on his chest, gently stopping him. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. Vicky's hands continued their exploration, trailing down his abs until they reached his hardness. She stroked him smoothly, her fingers expertly ratcheting up his arousal. Her touch was light yet firm, and the friction of her soapy hands against his sensitive skin drove him wild with need.
Then she stopped before pushing him too close to the edge. She handed him the soap bar and turned around, presenting her back to him.
Tyson accepted the unspoken invitation. He returned the favor, lathering up her body with the same meticulous care she had shown him. His hands roamed over her form, soaping her shoulders, her arms, her back. He spent too long massaging and squeezing her breasts, kneading her firm, round ass, and running his fingers between her legs, exploring her with a reverence that bordered on worship.
She leaned back against him, her body melding into his, and she could feel his dick hard against her lower back. Slowly, almost seeming as if his mind was playing tricks on him, Tyson watched as Vicky grew taller. Her body adjusted and reshaped itself. In moments, she was able to look back over her shoulder, and he only had to lean down slightly to catch her lips in his own.
Curious at why she grew taller using her nanobots, he realized as he felt his hardness slide between her ass cheeks. Vicky squeezed her cheeks together, the sensation of his length trapped between them, the slickness of the soap and the water created a delicious friction. As she looked back, kissing him, she went up on her toes and arched her back more, rubbing his length between her cheeks, the motion was deliberate and teasing. Her ass-job was driving him wild, the pleasure bordering on exquisite agony.
Tyson's hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he matched her rhythm. The water from the shower cascaded over them, adding to the eroticism of the moment.
Vicky, for her part, reveled in the pleasure she was giving him. She could feel the hardness of his cock sliding between her cheeks. Combined with the slickness of the soap it created a sensation that was incredibly arousing. She could feel the pleasure building within the nanobots that made up her body.
His fingers skimmed over her chest, teasing her nipples into hardened peaks. He reveled in the way her breath hitched, the way her muscles tensed under her touch. Tyson growled low in his throat, the sound was primal and needy. He captured Vicky's lips once more, the kiss deep and demanding. His hand slid down her abs, cupping her core, feeling the heat and the slickness that awaited him. Tyson's fingers explored with a gentle insistence, eliciting a moan from Vicky that echoed off the tiled walls of the shower.
He watched as Vicky's expression filled with pleasure. "Do you like this?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. He wanted this to be as much about her pleasure as his own.
Vicky asked, "You tell me?"
Tyson could sense her emotions, her pleasure, through the Force, and with his Betazoid empathy.
There was no question… Vicky was real.
He could sense the depth of her feelings.
She answered anyway, "Yes, it's... it's more than okay," she breathed out, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions. "I want this, Tyson. I want you."
Emboldened by her words, Tyson's fingers continued their exploration, finding her clit. He circled it slowly gauging her reactions to find just the right amount of pressure and speed.
Vicky's response was immediate and visceral. Her body arched into his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "Tyson," she moaned, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, her body moving in time with his rhythm, grinding her ass against him in time with his finger's strokes.
With a gasp, she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure, her body shuddering on Tyson's hand as ecstasy crashed over her. Tyson held her close, his fingers continuing their gentle ministrations as she rode out the aftershocks of her climax, her body quivering with the force of her release.
As Vicky's breathing slowly returned to normal, Tyson withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening with the evidence of her arousal. He brought his hand to his lips, tasting her, sweet, intoxicating flavor.
He muttered, "You can't taste that good."
Vicky, still recovering from her orgasm, watched Tyson with heavy-lidded eyes. She reached out, her hand tracing the contours of his face. "I can taste however I want to taste. Thank you very much," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But now, it's your turn,"
Vicky maneuvered them so Tyson's back was against the shower wall. Breaking the kiss, she trailed her lips down his chest and torso. Her breath was hot against his skin. Tyson shuddered under her touch, his breath hitching as her lips blazed a path downward. She sank to her knees as she reached his lower abdomen.
Looking up at Tyson with affection and desire, Vicky took him into her mouth.
Tyson inhaled sharply at the sudden spike of pleasure. He tilted his head back against the tiles and closed his eyes. His fingers instinctively went to her hair. The sensation of her mouth on him, the wet heat enveloping him, was almost too much to bear.
Vicky worked him skillfully. As a pleasure bot, she knew how to play his body like an instrument. Every moan, twitch, and catch of his breath was a note in a symphony she was composing in real time. Tyson's breaths came faster. His body tensed under the onslaught of sensation.
He groaned, the pleasure of Vicky's mouth threatened to overwhelm him. "Vicky..." Her name escaped his lips in a desperate, pleading gasp.
His fingers tightened reflexively in her hair as she worked him with expert skill. Each clever swipe of her tongue sent spikes of sensation through his nerves, building upon each other until his body tensed like a bowstring drawn taut.
Tyson's breaths grew ragged, his chest heaved as he drew in the steam-laden air. Rivulets of condensation trickled down the shower walls, mingling with the beads of sweat that dotted his skin. The cold, slick tile against his back contrasted with the velvety heat of Vicky's mouth, enveloping his manhood, heightening every sensation.
"Please," he whimpered, beyond coherence. Vicky had played his body to perfection. She knew how to push him to the brink and keep him suspended at the precipice. His world narrowed down to the wet suction of her mouth and the pounding of blood in his veins as she pushed him ever closer to release.
She responded to his pleading with a hum of satisfaction. The vibration sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through Tyson's body. Then to ensure she drove him over the edge, her hands joined in the sensory assault. One slid up his thigh to grab his hip, while the other cupped and teased his sensitive sac.
The pleasure building within Tyson became a rising tide threatening to sweep away all rational thought.
Vicky increased her pace. Her movements grew more fervent. And her eyes never left his face. She reveled in the power she held over him in this moment.
Tyson's body was wound tight, a coiled spring on the verge of release. Each breath was a struggle in which he fought to maintain control. But Vicky was relentless. Her desire to bring him to the peak of pleasure was evident in every stroke, every caress.
When she took him deeper; when he felt his head pass into her throat, his control finally snapped. Breathing and gagging were concerns for a human woman, but not for Vicky. With a guttural cry, Tyson surrendered to the pleasure, his body shook with the force of his release. Vicky continued sucking, drawing out his climax until he was spent.
As the last ripples of pleasure faded away, Tyson looked down at Vicky. She was still on her knees. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction and a deep, abiding affection. Slowly, she released him from her mouth, her tongue darting out to catch the lingering traces of his release.
Tyson reached down and lifted Vicky to her feet. His voice was hoarse as he said, "That was... incredible."
Vicky smiled up at him, radiating happiness. "I'm glad," she replied, "I wanted to make you feel good."
Tyson turned Vicky around. The water from the shower cascaded down her back. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he pressed her chest against the cool, tiled wall of the shower.
Vicky let out a moan at his forcefulness. But she complied willingly. Her body responded to his touch with an instinctual eagerness. She bent over, placing her hands flat against the wall for support. The position caused her to arch her back, presenting her full, heart-shaped ass to Tyson with an almost wanton abandon.
He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Vicky's curves and contours were crafted to perfection. He ran his hands over the soft, supple skin of her backside, tracing the lines of her body. His fingers trailed lower, teasing the cleft between her cheeks before sliding forward to the apex of her thighs.
Vicky's breath hitched as Tyson's fingers made contact with her most intimate area. She expected him to take her then, to claim her.
Instead, Tyson did something that surprised her.
He got down on his knees behind her, his face now level with the curve of her ass. Vicky turned her head, looking down past around her hips with a mixture of confusion and anticipation etched upon her features. "What are you doing?" she questioned.
"I want to taste you again," he said, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to hear you moan my name as I make you come with my mouth."
Vicky's eyes widened at his words, a flush of arousal coloring her cheeks. But she wasn't going to argue with that. She braced herself against the wall once more as she awaited the first touch of Tyson's lips upon her flesh.
Tyson did not make her wait long. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the small of her back. His lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake down the curve of her ass and towards the juncture of her thighs.
Vicky's breath caught in her throat as Tyson's mouth finally reached its destination. His tongue darted out, tentatively at first, tasting her with a gentle thoroughness that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her body.
Encouraged by her soft, throaty moans, Tyson increased his efforts. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as his tongue delved deeper, exploring her folds. Vicky's responded with an enthusiasm that was both genuine and overwhelming. Her hips bucked against his face as she sought to drive his tongue deeper.
Tyson's fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her in place as he continued to pleasure her with his mouth. His tongue circled her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure.
Vicky's moans grew louder. Her body vibrated with the tension of impending release. "Tyson," she gasped, her voice laced with a desperation that she could no longer contain. "I'm... I'm going to..."
Her words were cut off by a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure as her orgasm hit her like a freight train.
Tyson held her through it all, his mouth never leaving her as he drew out her climax until she was spent and her body sagging between his grasping hands and the shower wall.
Only then did he rise to his feet. He turned Vicky around to face him, his eyes searching hers for any sign of reluctance. But all he saw there was a profound sense of satisfaction. "I need you," she pleaded.
Tyson's answer was to lift Vicky, pulling her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the cool tiles of the shower wall.
Tyson's mouth found Vicky's breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. She arched into his touch, her fingers threaded through his hair. His hand slid between their bodies, once more finding Vicky's most sensitive spot. He circled with a teasing touch, drawing breathy moans from her lips.
"Please, give it to me," Vicky gasped, her voice strained with need. "I want to feel you inside me."
He needed no further encouragement. His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her slightly as he positioned himself. With one long, slow thrust forward, he buried himself to the hilt within her welcoming heat.
A guttural groan escaped Tyson's lips as Vicky's warmth enveloped him. Vicky's reaction was equally intense. Her back arched sharply, pressing her more firmly against the shower wall. Her body trembled as it accepted his length and the accompanying sensation of delicious fullness.
"God, Vicky," Tyson breathed, his voice husky with passion. "You feel incredible."
Vicky could only whimper in response as her fingers dug into his shoulders. She felt stretched, completed, utterly consumed by the man who held her in his arms.
The nanobots that comprised her could shift her inner volume, to accommodate him in ways that defied human biology. But where was the joy in that? Vicky dismissed the thought. She wanted to feel every inch of him, to experience the full spectrum of sensations that came with their connection.
Each of Tyson's thrusts drove Vicky higher, pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy. She met him thrust for thrust, her hips rolling to take him even deeper with each stroke. The pleasure built within her, a coiling tension that threatened to snap at any moment. She clung to Tyson, her nails dug into his back. His mouth found the curve of her neck, while his hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, controlling the pace as they spiraled ever higher toward their mutual release.
Vicky's moans echoed off the tiled walls, her cries of pleasure mingling with the sound of the falling water. Every nanobot-composed nerve-ending was alight with sensation. Even more, she could feel Tyson's desire, his need, through the Force.
Their movements grew frantic, desperate, as they chased that elusive peak. Tyson's thrusts became harder, deeper, his body slammed into hers with a primal urgency that stole her breath away.
Vicky's world narrowed to the feel of Tyson moving within her, the slick slide of their bodies, and the heat that built between them with every passing second. She was teetering on the edge.
Then, with a final, deep thrust, Tyson sent Vicky over.
She shattered in his arms, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her artificial muscles clenched around him, milking his release from him in a series of powerful contractions. Tyson couldn't stop from following her over the precipice. They clung to each other, their bodies shuddering with shared bliss.
For long moments, they held each other, their ragged breathing the only sound in the steamy confines of the shower stall. Vicky nuzzled into the curve of Tyson's neck, placing soft, reverent kisses along the line of his jaw.
"That was..." she began, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions.
"I know," Tyson murmured, his fingers trailing through her damp hair. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. He marveled at the depth of feeling he saw reflected there.
As they came down from their high, Tyson gently lowered Vicky back to her feet. They stood there, foreheads pressed together as the water continued cascading over them.
Vicky whispered, her voice a sultry purr that sent shivers down Tyson's spine. "I hope you're not done yet." She paused before adding with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "I'm programmed with literally thousands of positions."
"Thousands?" Tyson asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "How is that possible?"
"Let me show you," she said, her voice dripping with promise.
Vicky turned off the water. As she left the shower, her nanobots absorbed the water droplets clinging to her skin. Tyson's suit did the same. They were both left dry and ready for whatever Vicky had planned next.
She took Tyson's hand, leading him out of the bathroom. As they reached the bed, Vicky began to list off some of the positions she had stored in her vast database. "There's the classic missionary, cowgirl, lotus, reverse cowgirl..." She continued counting the erotic possibilities. "spooning, standing dragon, wheelbarrow, piledriver, butterfly, doggy, reverse piledriver, toad, plow, eagle..."
Each position sounded more thrilling than the last, promising new heights of pleasure and intimacy. But as Vicky's litany of lovemaking continued, Tyson felt a growing need.
Without warning, he reached out and grabbed Vicky. He pulled her toward him, his gaze capturing hers with an intensity that took her breath away. "Pick one," he pleaded, his voice husky with need.
Vicky's smile was slow and sensual, her eyes gleaming at Tyson's assertiveness. "I like that tone," she purred, her fingers trailing down his chest. "So you want me to be in charge?"
Tyson nodded as Vicky's hand moved lower, tracing the line of his abdominal muscles. "Yes," he said barely more than a whisper.
Vicky's smile widened into something predatory as she gazed at Tyson. "Look at you, giving in to your passions," she purred.
As she spoke, her appearance began to shift, transforming before Tyson's eyes. Her cotton-candy pink hair darkened to jet black, and the disheveled twin buns straightened into a sleek curtain that fell past her shoulders. Her makeup changed as well, the natural tones deepening into dramatic blacks and purples that gave her a dangerous, gothic allure. She had taken on the same dark, edgy look from earlier, but this time there was a hungry edge to her beauty. Tyson inhaled sharply, excited by this darker version of the woman before him. Vicky exuded raw sensuality now, her full lips curled in a smirk.
"Alright," she said, her voice filled with a promise of delights to come. "Let's try 'Reverse Cowgirl.' I saw how much you enjoyed looking at my ass before."
She mounted Tyson, her body facing away from him as she straddled his hips. The new position allowed her to take control, to set the pace and rhythm of their lovemaking, and highlighted the gentle swell of her hips and the toned muscles of her thighs.
She began to move, her hips undulated in a rhythm that drove Tyson wild with desire. His hands found their way to her hips, fingers digging into her soft skin as she rode him with an expertise that left him breathless. The sight of her, the feel of her riding him, was almost too much to bear. Her hair cascaded down her back as she lost herself in the moment. Vicky's movements grew more fervent. Tyson's breath hitched in his throat as her internal muscles clenched around him, the sensation threatening to send him over the edge. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the tide of his impending release. He wanted this to last, to savor every moment.
Vicky turned her head, her eyes meeting his over her shoulder. The raw hunger he saw there mirrored his own.
Tyson's gaze traveled over her form, drinking in the sight of her. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples hardened peaks that begged for his touch. But in this position, he was unable to reach. Instead, his hands cupped and squeezed her ass.
Vicky moaned at his touch. The sound of her voice, filled with need and desire, was music to Tyson's ears.
The tension within Tyson built with each passing second. He could feel the walls of Vicky's sex tightening around him, a sure sign that she, too, was close to the brink.
She increased her pace, her hips pistoning against his as she chased release. Tyson's climax loomed large on the horizon, a tidal wave of pleasure that was about to crash over him.
Crying out, Vicky's body convulsed as her orgasm swept through her. The sensation of her climax triggered Tyson's release, his body arching off the bed as he spilled himself inside her. Their bodies were locked together in a moment of pure ecstasy.
Vicky shuddered with the force of her climax, her inner walls pulsing around Tyson's length. But even as the waves of pleasure crested, she refused to let him withdraw. Instead, she spun around, a feat only possible because of her nanobot form.
Now she faced him in the classic cowgirl position.
Tyson took in the sight of her new position. She had never stopped riding him. Her skin flushed and glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. Without breaking eye contact, Vicky rolled her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm.
Gone was the frantic, lust-driven passion of moments before. In its place was something deeper.
Tyson's hands found their way to Vicky's hips, his fingers tracing the curve of her body as she moved above him. She leaned forward, her hair cascading around them like a silken curtain, creating a private world where only they existed. Her lips found Tyson's, and they shared an achingly tender kiss, yet charged with a simmering intensity that threatened to consume them both. Their bodies moved in perfect synch. His hands roamed over Vicky's form, committing every curve, every contour to memory. Her movements grew more purposeful, her hips undulating with a rhythm that was both languid and deeply sensual. She drew out their pleasure, prolonging the moment until it seemed to stretch into eternity.
Their lips met again, and this time, the kiss was a slow, searing exploration of passion and tenderness. Vicky's tongue danced with Tyson's. As their kiss deepened, her movements grew more urgent. Tyson's fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, anchoring her to him as they spiraled ever higher toward the precipice of ecstasy.
The tension built between them, a coiling spring threatening to snap at any moment. Tyson could feel the walls of Vicky's sex tightening around him, her body drawing him ever deeper into her depths. She broke their kiss, her eyes locked with his as she rode him with renewed intensity. Her breath came in ragged pants, her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure.
And then, finally, they tumbled over the edge together. Vicky threw her head back in a cry of release. Tyson followed her. His essence poured into her in a series of powerful pulses.
For long moments, they clung to each other. Their bodies trembled with the aftershocks of their shared bliss. Vicky's forehead pressed against Tyson's, their ragged breaths mingling in the scant space between them.
Slowly, gradually, their breathing began to even out, their heartbeats slowing to a more measured pace. Vicky's eyes found Tyson's, and in that moment, no words were needed.
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