Work Text:
“Hm.”
You flinch at the doctor’s tone. How is it possible for a short syllable to sound so judgemental?
“Dislocated leg, fractured pelvis, minor abrasions and tearing in the vaginal canal…” Your cheeks flush harder with each new prognosis, and you shift uncomfortably in your too breezy, too revealing hospital gown. Her long, long nails tap on the counter as she drums her fingers, looking rather amused. Her eyes slide down your body for a moment before slipping over to your partner.
“My my, Ramattra,” she says, a devilish smirk curling at her lips. “Whatever could have caused these injuries?”
To his credit, Ramattra looks completely unfazed. If you didn’t know him so well, you wouldn’t have guessed he was feeling nervous at all.
“It’s none of your business,” he says curtly, tapping his foot. “Just do your job.”
“With pleasure,” she says, setting her clipboard down. “But before I begin, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask to renegotiate my payment."
Ramattra crosses his arms and cocks his head, clearly displeased. "You know better than to test my patience, Doctor. Stop it with the mind games and just tell me what you want."
At this, Moira laughs. It's an airy, wispy thing-- so light, it hardly suits her personality. "Straightforward as always, I see. Very well," her eyes flicker towards you before returning to Ramattra, "what I wish for is an alternative payment, perhaps unorthodox, but plenty feasible and, might I suggest, actually quite easy to grant me." She walks over to the examination table where you're seated, and pins you with a spine chillingly predatory gaze.
"No." Ramattra says firmly, a dangerous edge seeping into his tone. "You may not have them."
"Have them? So they're yours to give away, are they?" Ramattra twitches, but gives no reply. He's already revealed too much. Moira studies his reaction before turning back to you. Beneath her gaze, you feel more naked than ever. "I don't want them, either."
Ok, rude.
"What I want is to observe and collect data from your coupling," she says, and while this request would sound perverted coming from anyone else, the Doctor's disposition makes you feel violated in a different way. You feel as though she wants to cut both of you open, see what makes you tick, then discard you once you're no longer of use to her.
She's terrifying.
…Is it weird to find that incredibly attractive?
Ramattra bristles openly, clearly agitated. "Absolutely not," he spits out, and turns to you, his arms already outstretched to pick you up. "We are finished here."
You let out a surprised “woah!” as he scoops you up, as gently as he can manage, and turns on his heel. “Wait- waitwaitwait--”
He stops and peers down at you questioningly, before turning his head and sighing.
“Right. Your clothes. I’ll send someone to fetch them later.” His tone is clipped, and you can feel the tension in his body. “Let us be rid of this miserable place.”
“So hostile,” Moira pipes up, saccharine amusement dripping from her tone. You crane your neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her. She’s leaning against the counter, resting on both her arms as she leisurely watches you and Ramattra. She looks like a lioness observing her prey.
Your throat goes a little dry. You’re so entranced by her that you tune out most of their senseless bickering and verbal posturing, longing instead to drink in as much of her handsome visage as possible.
Her black button up shirt is rolled up to just below the elbows, showing off her forearms, and is tucked into immaculately pressed white slacks. A blue tie-- the same color as one of her eyes-- hangs loosely from around her neck, and a few buttons near the top are opened.
Her hair is slightly disheveled, and you swallow thickly as you imagine running your hands through it yourself. As if feeling your gaze, her sharp, intelligent eyes snap to you, and her lax, confident smile widens.
She pushes herself off the counter, and ambles towards you at a sedate pace. This is her territory, after all, and she has you two right in her web.
“My my,” she croons, circling around Ramattra to get a better look at you. “You’re really going to leave them like this? Poor dear.” Her tone of voice indicates anything but sympathy for you. “You should really take me up on my offer. No doubt you were going to get back to fucking like rabbits the moment you left regardless of my intervention. Isn’t it kind of me to expedite your plans?”
You shudder, more in arousal than fear, and feel your cheeks warming as her eyes rove your body. Every word that comes out of her mouth is sharp and cutting. The way she enunciates the syllables is harsh and commands attention. It’s nothing like the gentle, guiding dominance of Zenyatta, or the playful, hardfought subservience that Ramattra wrests from you.
No, Moira is downright terrifying. Something deep and instinctual in you demands that you beg Ramattra to get you out of here, to leave and never look back, but the even baser, rudimentary parts of your psyche all desire the same thing.
To submit to her.
“I agree,” you pipe up, interrupting the argument that’d sparked up again. Ramattra shifts you in his grasp, satisfied, until- “with the Doctor.” He lurches and nearly drops you, causing you to yelp in pain.
“What?!”
Moira barks out a laugh. It’s mean and devoid of mirth. “Seems like one of you has some sense.” Hearing the praise, as slight as it is, has you shifting uncomfortably in Ramattra’s arms, a flush crawling up your neck. She quirks an eyebrow at that, her smile getting even meaner. “Oh? It seems your pet,” your body nearly seizes up at that word, “quite liked that.”
“Pet?!” Ramattra begins to argue with the doctor again, but your attention is elsewhere. You’re looking at her long, slender fingers, cautiously considering her sharp, dangerous nails, and curiously observing her rather prominent veins.
You glance up at Ramattra. He’s incensed-- livid on your behalf, but you hardly feel insulted. No, you feel…
The growing moisture between your legs is a bit cold, and you shift again in the omnic’s grasp, hissing a little as it aggravates your wounds. Instantly, both their eyes are upon you, and you find yourself sweating under their intense stares. “I- I’d like to get treated,” you say, coughing slightly. “I don’t mind the price, but…”
The doctor shifts her weight onto her right foot, cocking a hip. She looks at you haughtily, expectantly, as if she already knows what you’re about to say.
“Yes?” She speaks in an arrogant drawl, her body language loose and relaxed.
You muster up your courage and look up at Ramattra, then back at her piercing heterochromic eyes. “Would you like to… to join in? With us. During the uh…” you struggle to find a more elegant word for what you’re propositioning.
“Coitus?” She offers helpfully.
“Yes. That.”
“Hmmm…” She lifts a hand to her face-- the unmarred one-- and starts to tap her foot. She’s interested, you can tell. Getting data first hand must be like a dream come true for her. She tilts her head, and your breath hitches as you spot a mole on the svelte curve of her neck. Your eyes trace it down to another on her sharp, protruding collarbones, and--
“No.”
That single word shatters your daydream. “N-no?”
“No,” she says again, her tone musical and cruel. “Due to your companion’s combative attitude, I’ve decided that I reserve the right to deny service to anyone,” she says, and turns to walk back to the counter where she left her notes. “That is…” she opens a cabinet and pulls out a sealed vial. “Unless you can sweeten the deal for me. What do you say, pet?”
“They will do no such thing,” Ramattra says, having regained his bearings.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Moira responds smoothly, approaching you with the vial. “Though, I’m interested in how it would affect an omnic as well… Perhaps you could take it in their place?” She clinks the glass tube against Ramattra’s faceplate teasingly, leaning over you in the process.
Being stuck between both Moira and Ramattra is doing very, very bad things to your brain.
“I’ll take it! I’ll take it, so it’s alright, really.”
“Well met,” Moira says, and with a victorious air about her, stalks back to the examination table that you were sitting on earlier. “Bring them here.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.
Ramattra looks at you, concerned, but is appeased when you smile encouragingly for him, and rest a hand on his chest. “Won’t be that bad,” you murmur, loud enough for him to hear but low enough so Moira isn’t eavesdropping. “Honestly, I think it might be fun!”
He doesn’t seem too convinced, but it’s this or nothing, so he relents and sets you back onto the table.
Moira gets to work with her biotic technology, and you feel your aches and pains diminishing by the second. Soon, the only thing left is your dislocated leg. “Hold still,” she says, and you nod, bracing yourself for the pain. Her hands close around your upper thigh to get a grip on you before righting the limb, and you flush darkly when you notice her hand comes away wet, with a thin web of arousal connecting her fingers to your pussy.
There’s a veritable puddle underneath you, and she glances at it before her eyes flick back up to yours. Coyly, she brings the hand to her mouth, and licks her finger clean. “Excited, aren’t you?”
You nod quickly.
She holds your gaze as she reaches over for the flask. There’s a pink liquid inside it-- a suspiciously familiar pink at that… “Ready for your reward?” She swirls it in front of your eyes. The liquid moves almost hypnotically, sloshing around inside the glass.
You nod again, and she chuckles darkly. She uncorks it, and gently grabs you by the chin. “Open wide.”
You do, and she pours it into your mouth. It tastes sweet, and the flavor lingers cloyingly in your mouth after you swallow. “Good,” she says, and sits back to watch your reaction.
The effects are immediate.
Warmth spreads through your body, making your limbs grow heavy, and for a moment, you feel like you’re about to fall asleep. Then, it grows. The ember bursts into a smoldering fire, and you start to perspire. All of a sudden you're shivering, and you draw your limbs closer to yourself, the heat receding and turning cold instead.
The previously temperate room now feels like a snowy tomb. Dimly, you can hear Ramattra interrogating the doctor, can see him grabbing her by her tie, indignant and afraid, but it’s hard to focus on much of anything.
Your senses are all dulling, faster and faster, fading to black, and then--
They all come rushing back.
You scream.
Then, you cry-- but not before a pair of arms wrap around you, securely, safely, shielding you from outside danger-- but what’s threatening you comes from within. “Get it off- get it off of me!” You wriggle helplessly in his grip, and he’s bewildered, scared-
“Allow me.”
Like an angel (or perhaps a demon), Moira descends upon you, prying the omnic’s hands away from you, and releasing you from your scratchy, not-quite-fabric prison. You’re bared to her inquisitive, intrusive stare, but you don’t have the presence of mind for things like modesty.
No, you’re far more lost in how deliciously warm the doctor’s hands were, and you babble incoherently, reaching out to her, chasing after her body heat.
“Please,” you say, your tone wholly imploring without a hint of disobedience.
She chuckles. Brushes the back of her hand against your cheek.
“Sit back, and let me take care of you.”
You wish you could do that, but it feels like you're being devoured, consumed from the inside by whatever affliction she's besieged upon you. You feel as though you'll die if you don't do something.
You lunge forward, grasping at her tousled shirt, and kiss her in earnest. It's messy. It's a kiss with entirely too much tongue, and you click your teeth against hers more than once in your fervor, but you need this.
Greedy, desperate-- you drink Moira in like she's the oasis that will quench your fire, the salvation to your suffering.
She pulls you off of her, her black lipstick somehow still perfectly intact, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Effective,” she muses, and pushes you back into Ramattra’s arms as she draws up a holopad and begins to take notes.
“Quite the energetic one, aren’t you?” When she turns back to you, you’ve given into the drug completely. Your hands are busy trying and failing to pleasure yourself, chasing after whatever friction will relieve the itching sense of discomfort buzzing underneath your skin.
Ramattra can only watch in shock and dawning horror as he realizes what the drug is-- and who the manufacturer of the gas that’d started your relationship was.
Moira laughs. It’s deeper now, more resonant, and it echoes off her clinically white walls as she watches the two of you.
The sound all but reverberates through your body, vibrating in your bones and shaking you straight to your marrow.
You want her.
You need her.
You pant helplessly, your eyes locked pleadingly onto hers. The puddle of your own fluids has only grown larger, soaking through the thin paper atop the table that was there for sanitization purposes.
“Please,” you say again, just as desperately as last time. “Please.”
She hums, looking as happy as ever as her long, long fingers swipe and tap at the holoscreen. “You need only ask for my help,” she says, and dismisses it with a wave of her hand.
She stalks back towards you, self assured in every way, and her confidence is maddening.
Her nails skate over the skin of your neck, tracing your racing pulse down to your collarbones. The pad of her thumb brushes against you, ever so slightly, but you’re so sensitive that even her feather light touch is enough to set you off.
Your whole body jerks towards her, your hands stopping as you tense up under her ministrations. “Fascinating,” she purrs, and trails her finger lower. The very tip of her index finger’s nail scratches against you, flowing between your breasts, dragging against your stomach, and stopping right at your pubic mound.
You’re all but hyperventilating. The world seems to close in around you as you focus in on that singular point of contact, shrinking to just a pinprick.
It dips lower, lower--
It stops moving, and you nearly cry out in frustration, but then the rough skin of her finger touches your clit, and everything explodes.
Your body convulses violently, writhing and thrashing in the throes of either pain or pleasure-- it's hard to differentiate when the two are so intrinsically linked.
"My, my." She says, her voice sounding far away. Your ears are ringing. "Having fun?"
She takes a step back and tuts, looking around the room. "You move around too much for my liking." Your vision blurs, and you whimper, backing up against Ramattra's hard, but familiar chassis.
He looks down at you, worried, and unsure of what to do with himself. His segmented fingers reach down, cradling your face and stroking your cheek. They're blessedly cold, and you lean into his touch. For a moment, you can ignore the heat thrumming in your veins, and the steady ache building in your loins.
“Not going to help?” Moira asks. You blearily lift your eyelids, and look over at her, your mind foggy from the drug. Is there a hallucinogenic effect, too? The doctor seems to have sprouted four more limbs.
“They'll suffer much less if you lend a hand.” The prehensile tentacles are fitted with sharp, metallic ends-- reminiscent of claws. You shudder in fear of what they’ll do to you. “Besides…” They reach out and restrain your hands above your head. “Part of the deal was allowing me to observe.” She pulls you closer, and two more tentacles spread your legs open for him.
You tremble in her grasp. In a mockery of the tender gesture that Ramattra offered you, she grabs you by the face, forcibly twisting your head towards him. Her claws dig into your cheek. “Well?”
Ramattra is at odds with himself, caught between taking advantage of your clearly drugged out state (given that you’d consented earlier), and whisking you away from here to sequester you somewhere safe, where nothing could ever hurt you again.
But you know what you want.
“Please,” you say, rolling your hips towards him. The insides of your thighs are wet with want. “Please.”
And instantly, he is upon you.
He lays siege on your restraints, tearing them away in favor of using his own limbs to hold you close to him. His hands run reverently down your body, gliding along your sweat slicked skin until they grasp desperately at your hips.
Your heart is beating so fast and hard you can hear it thrumming in your ears.
Moira, not one to be outdone, reconfigures herself. The sharp tips of the tentacles slide inwards and disappear, leaving behind smooth silicone. They circle around to your waist, brushing against your skin lightly as they work their way up to your breasts.
Ramattra's cock ruts against your front, already coated in a mixture of your fluids. He whispers clandestine, sweet nothings to you as his hand drifts lower, grasping instead at the back of your thigh. Just as he's about to hoist you up, Moira stops his advance.
"How am I meant to observe what I can barely see?" she asks. She maneuvers you into a new position. Now, your legs are splayed apart, and you're sitting on his lap. Ramattra's weeping cock twitches underneath you, mere inches from your pussy.
The waiting is as torturous as it is arousing.
"Don't hold back on my behalf," she says, leaning back. "Go on," a smirk curls at the corner of her flawless lips, "amuse me."
In a single, smooth motion, Ramattra thrusts into you. You're hit by the sense of wholeness, completeness, and utter tranquility for but a moment as the world rights itself-- then, promptly shatters as he begins to move. His hands grip your waist, holding you still for him as he fucks into you from below, bucking his hips with wild abandon.
Somewhere, lost in the sounds of hissing steam and your own desperate wails, you can hear a chorus of apologies and praises spilling forth, like a burst dam.
He feels so good inside you, so perfect-- like all you've ever needed and more. Your walls clench down around him, his girth stretching you deliciously. You lean your head back into him, lost in the pleasure he's giving to you as warmness spreads from your point of connection and flows through your body, making your extremities feel ever so slightly numb.
You're reduced to a moaning, trembling mess, unable to formulate sentences beyond his name and praises to convey your jubilation. He ravishes you like a beast, his Nemesis arms taking their place on your waist while his omnic arms drift up to your breasts, pawing and groping at your sensitive flesh.
Just as you think you've reached the absolute peaks of pleasure that the human body has to offer, a set of teeth sink harshly into your neck.
You yelp in pain, but the sensitive, throbbing skin is quickly assuaged by a warm, soft tongue, and you open your eyes to see that the doctor has joined in.
She peers up at you with half lidded, dark rimmed eyes. Her mismatched irises are even more striking than they were earlier, now that they're darkened by a subsuming vortex of lust and desire.
Your lungs start to hurt from how hard you're breathing. Ramattra, sensing your distraction, growls. One of his hands grabs your face and turns it towards him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. Your moans quickly quiet as you busy your mouth, kissing, licking, and nipping at his neck.
His thrusts stutter a little as he gasps, and steam rushes out behind him. Moira hums in interest. She slips a hand down to where you're connected, feeling the junction of your obscene union. Her fingers dance across your sensitive, stretched skin, and you cry. Your teeth sink into the unyielding metal of Ramattra's neck, making him groan.
Moira’s thumb finds its way to your clitoris as her other fingers tease your hole, and your body threatens to collapse inwards on itself. You unleash an ungodly, pained noise as you’re hit by another climax.
Pain, weariness, and pleasure wreak havoc on your senses and body-- your limbs have been tensed for so long you feel as though they’d give out. Stars swim behind your vision, little whorls of light spiraling into nothingness as they, too, are consumed by the maddening cocktail of sensation.
Ramattra’s thrusts rapidly become more erratic as you convulse atop him. Both sets of arms encircle you in a rough embrace, pushing Moira away from you. He roughly hilts himself inside you, and cums, murmuring incomprehensibly to your insensate, twitching body.
For a blessed moment, all is still.
Your breathing evens out, and you come down from the impossible high you just experienced within your omnic lover’s arms. With shaky, uncertain hands, you grasp at his arms and tug. He begrudgingly drops them, baring your naked, sweat soaked body to the room.
His cock slips out of you, and you shudder as you feel the odd, uncomfortable sensation of liquid seeping out of your thoroughly used hole.
The doctor tuts, and you hear a shifting of fabric before you feel her hands upon you again.
Her fingers brush against your folds, collecting the mixture of fluids before tasting it. Unlike earlier, there’s nothing coy about her expression. She’s clinical, and has an inquisitive, yet intimidating air about her.
Instinctively, you press your thighs together, but it’s all for naught.
With ease (that arouses you more than it probably should), she pries them back open, and leans forward again-- this time, it's her head that ventures between your legs.
Your entire body snaps back to attention.
Ramattra tenses as well, ready to jump to your defense, but you shake your head, and instead relax back into his grasp.
The doctor laps at you gently, her tongue dipping shallowly into your entrance before flicking upward to your clit. She sets a slow, sensual pace that has your thighs trembling, and your breath shaking.
With a soft, almost hesitant touch, Ramattra’s hands find their way back around your body. They loop around your waist and settle on your stomach, where his fingers rub slow, soothing circles into your heated skin.
Your hips stutter and jerk from Moira’s tongue, and with a displeased noise, her tentacles shift to hold you still against the table.
You lay there, trapped, as she eats you out, savoring and studying the taste left behind by your frenzied copulation.
Your next orgasm starts as a slow crawl, coaxed out by her nimble, persistent tongue as it flicks between teasing your clit and lapping up your slick. She pulls away right as you’re about to cum, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
In a move that has you flustered beyond belief, she takes her middle and index fingers’ acrylic nails into her hands, and yanks them off.
She licks her lips before delving back in, her mouth enveloping your clitoris as her fingers work you open. She sucks and licks the bundle of nerves viciously, lashing at it with her tongue as her fingers curl and thrust into you, stimulating your g-spot.
With a pathetic wail, you find yourself cumming again.
Her fingers slow as she feels your walls contracting around her.
Your body relaxes again, and you open your eyes to the doctor propped up between your legs, licking her fingers clean.
And that’s all it takes to get you going again.
You tilt your hips towards her, as much as you can with her still restraining you, and whine-- a wordless, submissive plea that has her looking more than just a bit amused.
“It’s more effective than I thought,” she says, licking a swathe up her thumb. “Whatever am I to do with you?” Her hands find their place on your thighs, her fingers drumming on your tingling skin.
“Fuck me?” you ask, hopefully.
She barks out a short laugh, and pulls back, sitting upright on the table.
“Gladly,” her voice is a deep, salacious purr. “You don’t mind if I have my turn, do you, omnic?”
Ramattra grunts in acquiescence, and shifts you in his grip. You’re back on his lap again, and his shaft slowly rubs against your dripping cunt. You twitch and shudder as the head brushes against your still-oversensitive clit.
With how wet you are, he’s coated in you in no time, and he shifts you in his arms again to slide into your ass.
You groan heatedly at the welcome intrusion, rolling your hips into him to push him deeper. Two of Moira’s tentacles snake forward, brushing between your legs and rubbing against your slit.
“Pardon me,” she says playfully, and thrusts one, then the other, inside of you. They’re both rather slender, and together, feel like a particularly girthy cock.
Then, they start to move. They undulate inside you, writhing and stroking your walls with their odd, flexible forms-- they manage to roll up against your sweet spots over and over, without ever pulling out.
You moan. You’re so, so tired, but it feels amazing, and you don’t want it to stop. Ramattra thrusts into you slowly and gently in contrast to Moira, taking his time to thoroughly enjoy your body. His hands are on your waist again, holding you up for him as he rolls his hips into you from below.
Moira’s mouth is on your collarbone-- biting and sucking, leaving angry red marks behind. Her hands play with your breasts, and the other two tentacles hold your legs open for her. The two draw low, plaintive moans out of you as they fuck you silly, reducing you to a limp puddle of limbs.
You’re close, so close, and as your breathing hastens and your whines become more and more desperate, Ramattra’s fingers drift down to your clitoris, and begin to vibrate. With a sudden burst of energy, you start meeting Moira’s thrusts, fucking yourself on her tentacles.
The knot inside you unravels, and you cum for the last time with a sobbing moan, grasping desperately at Moira’s body.
Your vision starts to dim, and your ears start to ring, drowning out the noise around you. You can only catch bits and pieces of the argument that starts up again as you slowly drift in and out of unconsciousness.
Ramattra’s panicked, angry voice sounds so, so far away.
“What have you done to them?”
“They're just tired, they’ll be okay after a bit of rest.”
“Surely you have something to hurry the process along? To make them feel better?”
“Yes, but it will cost you…”
“Name your price.”
…
…
…
Warm.
That’s the first thing you notice when you begin to wake up.
Wet.
Your eyes slowly open. Your head is resting against something hard, and the ceiling is white and bare. Steam curls and wisps away in front of your eyes, dancing in the insubstantial light. You dimly register that you’re in a bathtub.
Dark.
The overhead lights aren’t on, but there’s a dim, yellow glow coming from the side. You look over, and see a yellow biotic emitter next to you-- the kind that costs at least three odd jobs to get.
Ramattra.
You feel his segmented, metal fingers brushing through your hair. He sounds like he’s behind you.
“Ramattra?” Your voice comes out much weaker than you intended, and you cough to clear your throat.
He grunts in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything.
“Where are we?”
He takes pause, his hands stopping as well, before settling on an answer. “Home.”
You raise your arms a little, splashing the water. “I didn’t know you liked to take baths,” you said, smiling at the mental image of him in the tub.
“...I don’t.”
The realization hits you instantly, and your cheeks flush. Oh. Quickly, you shift the topic of conversation. “Where did you get this?” You tap the biotic emitter. It teeters, and he grabs it before it can fall. He shifts over to the side of the tub and rights it. You can see his face now.
“Moira,” he says, his tone clipped. He’s clearly not in the best mood.
You look down at yourself. You’re covered in bruises and marks from the session earlier. You trace the fingerprints on your waist, knowing exactly who they’re from. You sigh, and reach up to touch your aching neck, remembering the way the doctor bit you. She probably left a decent amount of hickies.
“That’s a shame. I’m gonna miss having all these marks on me, I think they’re hot.”
You can feel his gaze boring into your neck. “I’ll give you more later. For now, you should rest.”
Dirty images flash through your mind, but you’re too tired and worn out to get excited by them. You hum in agreement, and sink back into the warm water. “Okay,” you say.
Your eyelids feel heavy, and you sense yourself drifting off to sleep again. Falling asleep in a bathtub is an awful idea, but you trust Ramattra won’t let you drown.
“Ramattra?” Dimly, you can feel his hand on your head again.
He grunts.
“...Thank you.”
He remains silent for a moment, then sighs. “You’re welcome.”
And with a smile on your lips, you fall asleep.