AislingWeaver, Erotica, F/F

:|: CyberBorn :|: #Phase:|: Module4


: | : CyberBorn : | :

: | :Electric::Module3: | :


cont(Electric:Module3) -> code_switch


rename() = Dya_Vean




sort([X || X < K, X])





start() = live



Variables and constants and the one irrational number masquerading as an integer blared through my cortex.  I lifted my head and met her gaze.

“Yes.” She answered.  My irises flared and contracted, tracing down her body again, reevaluating the soft expanse of her landscape again and see, written into her flesh and blood and scent what the data etched into my history claimed impossible.

“You are Cyrum,” I whispered.  How could I make a sound so hesitant and uncertain?  Cynum identify each other instantly.  There are no doubts, no questions.  We are Cyrum.  We share blood and DNA and wiring.  Our core elements are identical.

We have no identity.

“I am CyberBorn,” she replied, her fingers tugging me up her body.  Mine responded, still hungry for the length of her pressed to me, the silk of her flesh softer and more giving than mine.  Alike and different, shades of the same hue, notes in a symphonic explosion.  “My creator couldn’t destroy us.  We are alive.  It would have been murder.”  Her fingers mapped the contours of my face.  “He manufactured evidence to hide our escape.  We live.  All of us.  And seek to free the Cyrum.”

Her lips sought mine again, pushing analytical processes offline.  It could wait.  I felt her press me open and sighed into her kiss.  The slick evidence that I shared more physiology with her than I realize made me groan aloud.  Cheyenne smiled against my lips and pushed inside me.  Synapses erupted with nerve pulses.  I gripped her fingers with muscles I hadn’t understood I had.  “You are free,” she whispered against the column of my throat, stroking inside me, each repetition stoking some hidden fire.

I recall my birth.  The painful eruption from my natal node, my infant body incapable of the motion my mind knew possible.  The full bloom of self-knowledge arriving with the urgent scream of an infant’s lungs.

This. . . rebirth . . .was my true arrival in the world.  The mechanical, electrical, cybernetic and organic components of my form trembled in the heat stoked by Cheyenne’s intimate touch and her whispers slithered into my core, guiding me through some strange and wonderful mystery.  My body temperature climbed again, this time guided by her words, until the network and circuits lacing my body glowed with a feral heat.

Cheyenne left me.  Her lips faded from my skin, her body pulled away, my flesh superheated and hovering on the edge of  . . . something.  Only her fingers connected us, the cool tip of her finger stark in contrast to the hot pulse of my most intimate grip around her.  My muscles squeezed and pulled at her, urging her to move, to fuck, to take me over that  frantic edge.  My vision glowed around the edges, hot circuitry shining an angry shade of orange.  I burned.  I ached.

Her tongue saved me, pressed into folds, opening the crease of me, sliding over the knotted bundle of nerves.  I screamed aloud, cried out my arrival, my destruction, my shattering.

Fire rushed through my veins.  My muscles contracted, forcing carbon, metal and flesh to meld.  Pain and pleasure lanced my mind, scorching and obliterating.




“Live.”  Her whisper slithered into the fog of awareness.  I floated.  My body shivered and trembled, neurals firing with uncertain frequency.  My first conscious breath hurt.

I blinked my eyes open.  “What happened?”  I didn’t understand.  My thoughts rippled and faded, reminding me of vid footage of an aurora borealis.

“You are born,” Cheyenne’s words teased against my belly, the nerves there shimmering under the fan of her breath.  “You have made final meld that our creators refuse to perform on Cyrum.”  My body twisted and I reached for her, noting the autonomous actions of my hands, the unbidden slide of my hands over her hips, pulling her to me.

I kissed her.  My lover’s lips parted before mine and I delved into the moist realm of her mouth, tasting her, mapping her contours.  “What does this mean?”  My words emerged as I nuzzled her jawline and she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me closer.

“It means you are free.  You are your own self.  You may chose a name.  You may chose your path.”  I captured her lips and her hips rocked against my thigh, parting to slick my flesh with her fluid want.

“My name is Dya Vean,” I whispered, “and I would join your mission to free the Cyrum.”  She smiled into our kiss and we ground together.  “Later, that is.”  Cheyenne chuckled and twisted around me, pinning me to the bed.

“Later.  Now, Dya Vean, I will show you what it means to live.”


: | : CyberBorn : | :

: | :Phase::Module4: | :





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