Chapter Text
I had a problem.
Given that most of my problems these days involved the fate of universes and billions of lives, I thought a purely personal problem would’ve been almost refreshing to deal with.
It wasn’t.
On the surface, things were going fantastically. Hera, once Queen Administrator and now my partner, had finally completed her Monarch advancement a couple days ago and compressed her body from a planet-wide crystalline supercomputer to one roughly human-sized, to my joy and pride. My little sister Mercy and her girlfriend Miara managed to take some leave from the Reapers and made a small celebration of the event along with some of our other available friends and family. As aloof as Hera pretended to be, I could tell she adored the praise she was getting, and I happily teased her at every opportunity. I’d also managed to earn my fourth star in the Spiders as well as third and second stars in the other divisions I was in, cementing my meteoric rise in the Abidan. And for the first time in years, there weren’t any crises or disasters that warranted immediate attention; a period of stability that was letting everyone relax just a little. By all means there shouldn’t be anything weighing on me.
As unambiguously good as all of those things were, they’d collided into an unfortunate set of circumstances. Mercy and Miara were also using their time off to…relieve some urges together, and despite two Monarchs thoroughly veiling their room for privacy, my advancements in the Way resulted in my sensory abilities simply overpowering them, even passively. I didn’t begrudge them taking time together, of course, but I really didn’t want to know that Mercy was very…vocal, during certain activities I was refusing to name.
As a result I was desperately trying to find something to occupy my attention, but there really wasn’t much. I had already helped Grace and Charity resolve some minor Monarch-level issues on Ashwind, there were no assignments my other bodies were doing that I could drop my full focus on, and Lisa was busy on a training exercise with Cladia. Reading some books could only do so much.
So I was stuck aggressively ignoring the many ways Mercy could scream Miara’s name.
Fun.
[CONCERN]
I turned to Hera, managing a smile as I looked up at her. She was statuesque in an almost literal way; while her body was no longer comparable in size to continents, both her robes and skin were still composed of crystal, a beautiful purple that sparkled with inner lightning. She was also tall, much taller than me at over seven feet, and she’d given herself much larger boobs than me, to my continuing amusement. A smooth mask covered her face, broken only by her eyes, each one with an iris in the shape of a starry spiral galaxy. A simple eight-pointed diadem sat on her head, while long black curls draped down past her shoulder, the only part of her not made of crystal, and a match for my own. Perhaps her most striking feature was her multitude of arms, uncountable pairs undulating from her shoulders and intersecting each other in impossible ways, the light catching on their crystalline makeup like an art display.
It was so her in ways I couldn’t describe that brought a warm feeling in my heart.
“I’m fine, Hera,” I answered her. “Just trying real hard to not think about my sister having sex.” I winced internally describing it so bluntly, but I found it usually helped Hera understand better, so I swallowed my discomfort for her sake.
[CONFUSION]
She tilted her head to the side slightly as she asked, a frankly adorable motion for a being quite possibly more ancient than the Earth itself. She was doing those little tics more often after compressing her body, I noticed, where before her avatars would simply stand motionless save for her arms. I hoped that would continue.
As for her question, well…
“While yes, I do love Mercy, familial love is not the same as romantic. I enjoy physical intimacy like the hugs she gives me, but that’s different from desiring her the way Miara does.” I paused slightly. I certainly didn’t expect to be in the position of being one step removed from the birds and the bees discussion with Hera. “Here, let me show you.”
I started composing a message to better illustrate the difference. On one half, my love of Mercy and all the associated feelings; happy moments, sad moments, the moments when I felt protective of her, the pride whenever she proved herself. It came together without difficulty—it was when I started assembling the other half that I faltered.
My first instinct was my emotions of Hera. Almost immediately I started having doubts. We had never fully clarified what sort of relationship we had; it was obviously very close, close enough that I eagerly sought out physical affection like hugs or quiet relaxation with her when I could, something I never initiated with anyone else. She was possessive of me, and I of her. She took the spot in my life that any prospective romantic partner would have needed to compete for, and I was perfectly fine with that.
But putting it to metaphorical words here was anxiety-inducing in a way I found myself floundering on, especially since she had started from such an alien existence and still remained a few steps removed from humanity even through all the work we both have done. I wasn’t quite sure what her answer would be, and I admitted it scared me, just a little.
The only other romantic experience I had, those paltry two weeks with Brian two lifetimes ago, seemed almost too pithy in comparison as a source of examples, and the thought of sending my long-gone feelings of him to her felt weird.
In the end I simply left it with my sisterly feelings for Mercy, and invited her to compare it with her own feelings. I sent it before I could doubt myself more.
[EXAMPLE]
She took a few seconds to digest it, and I felt some anxiety crawling in my gut waiting for her answer. I did my best to squash the impulse to chew at my lip as she stepped closer to me.
[ASSERTION]
I took a bit for me to fully parse her message, before I let out a small laugh out of relief and embarrassment, rubbing the back of my head as I looked down reflexively and my cheeks heated up.
Her love for me was absolutely different from the love I felt towards Mercy, so it only made sense that it was romantic. If that was the only part of her message I’d have been just relieved, knowing she truly felt the same with me as I did with her. But she also asserted that, since romantic feelings clearly involved some level of physical desire, why weren’t we, well, doing what Mercy and Miara were doing right now?
“Well,” I started, trying to gather my thoughts. “Romantic love doesn’t require sex. There’s plenty of couples who have a deep love of each other who are perfectly fine with a chaste life together. It’s just one way of expressing it, like hugs or kisses. And, um, we don’t need to have sex for us to be together, not if you don’t want it.”
To my mild surprise, Hera dipped down and pulled me into a princess carry, her many arms cradling me gently. I put an arm around her neck reflexively, raising an eyebrow as I asked, “Hera?”
[OFFER]
My other eyebrow joined its partner, nearly reaching my hairline. I had thought human sexual intercourse was probably near the bottom of the list of Hera’s interests, only barely beating out talking like a human, but apparently I might have to revise that.
“Are you sure?” I asked, still a bit taken back. “Like I said, It’s not like it’s something I need.” It was true. Sex just wasn’t something I craved in a relationship, especially one as the one Hera and I shared. It was harder to feel closer to someone when you both often merged your minds, after all, and we’ve shared more intimate feelings than some couples who’ve been married for decades have.
[REASSURANCE]
I half-laughed, half-sighed in fond exasperation. Pride was one of Hera’s first real emotions, and she was already fully confident I’d consider her the best sexual partner I would ever have despite her own lack of interest. Considering the only other experience I had was extremely awkward fumbling between two traumatized teenagers decades ago, it wasn’t exactly a high bar, but I indulged her.
I let out an “oof” more out of reflex than need as Hera dropped me on my bed in Moongrave. Not needing to sleep anymore meant it was really more for appearances, saddled with almost entirely too many pillows and layers of blankets to be practical and all in varying dark shades of purple and black in the Akura style. Even if I did need to doze it was entirely too large for it—almost as big as my childhood room back on Earth two lifetimes ago—but for the purposes that Hera and I were going to use it for, it was more than enough. A flex of my will sent the surplus bedding away, leaving just enough pillows for comfort.
I scooched back slightly as Hera climbed onto the bed, the violet crystal of her body shifting like it was clothing or flesh, depending on which part it was. Her many arms fanned around her as she crawled forward between my legs, spreading them with another pair. I felt a blush rising to my cheeks, and I let it despite my perfect control over my body. This sort of intimacy was very different from our usual displays, and even though I said I didn’t need it earlier, I found myself finding it very, very agreeable.
Soon she was looming over me, some of her hands holding my waist while another pair caressed my face as I smiled fondly up at her. Her literal starry eyes gazed back down, while her hair—long, black, and curly exactly like mine, a fact that always clutched at my heart—draped around her head, confining my own inhuman eyes to her. I sent her a burst of love and affection impulsively, one that she returned almost instantly.
I had already taken off the armor and shoes I wore as part of my sacred artist outfit, leaving just the cloth and fabric parts. Many hands caressed my body as even more undid my robes, and I let myself be handled with such gentle love and care. I shook my arms free of its sleeves and shimmied out of my pants when needed, and soon I was left in only my underwear. It was rather plain given I wasn’t expecting sex when the day started, but I doubted Hera would’ve found conventional lingerie sexy the same way a human would. An image of me in multi-dimensional lingerie came to mind, and a giggle pried its way out of my lips.
Hera paused, confusion and a small bit of apprehension over our link, and I smiled reassuringly at her as I sent that intrusive image of myself to her as context. She untensed slightly, and I received the mental equivalent of a scoff as well as a full breakdown of the flaws in my lingerie design and a schematic of a completely reworked version that would probably only be fully appreciated if you could see in at least four dimensions at once.
A full laugh broke out of me as I wrapped my arms around her neck. “Never change,” I said with as much fondness I could imbue while surreptitiously filing that design away as a little surprise of my own later.
Interruption over, her hands continued to run over my body, tracing muscles and abs earned from years of hard training, and a few groped my covered breasts. When remaking my body in Soulfire advancing to Underlord, I erred towards more conservative than unattainable supermodel, but I still indulged in C cups rather than the borderline A cups that haunted my teenaged self’s poor self-esteem.
A fact I was absolutely not regretting as Hera squeezed them, drawing a moan out of me. A deft movement that could only be accomplished with four hands that could occupy the same space later, and my boobs were free, nipples already hard from her firm ministrations. Soon after, the boxer-like garment I had below was removed as well, leaving my vagina free to the cool air.
Hera pulled back a bit, taking in my nude form for a moment as I let my arms fall beside me. A brief flash of embarrassment was smothered; it wasn’t like Hera had never seen me naked before, given she was there whenever I showered or bathed or changed clothes, but somehow this felt different.
[PERFECTION]
From anyone else, I probably would have rolled my eyes even if internally, since of course my body would appear flawless. Remaking one’s body in soulfire often had scars and other such blemishes removed, and while I avoided going the bombshell route, I also indulged in flawless skin and slightly more idealized curves.
But Hera went beyond that. I would never tell her to avoid feeding her ego too much, but one of the elegant things about shardspeak was how almost every meaning you could ever want to put into a message could be shared in a single package. And thanks to her sense of artistry I nurtured, the message she sent was pure poetry in the way only a shard could make.
She loved my creativity and ruthlessness. She loved every way I pushed my powers beyond even her wildest simulations. How I flourished whenever the odds were so stacked against me, pulling out a win whenever it seemed hopeless. How, even though it cost so much, I accomplished what she thought was impossible and rebelled against Scion and the central hub successfully.
She loved how I never let my successes hold back my continual improvement. Especially when we came to Cradle. Hera may have given me an edge with multitasking and my living madra, but I was the one who kept pushing the envelope to find new ways to use my abilities. Each new technique, each new facet of existing ones, they were all me. I was the one who truly reached out first, to turn our relationship from host and passive facilitator to a true partnership.
It was me who learned how to communicate with her in her own language, something her species thought humans incapable of. It was me who taught Hera emotions, to have her own true opinions and self-determination. It was me who explored the Way and the underpinnings of reality with her, discovering new and novel ways to bend reality to our will, and solving the problem her species had been struggling with for eons.
It was me she fell in love with, the one being she could call an equal.
My body was almost an afterthought by comparison, and even then she praised its form, aesthetically pleasing (for something in only three dimensions) and in the case of my hair, how I also turned its form into function—exploiting its curls to hold bugs—while compromising neither. Just another example of how I was the perfect host, and now was her perfect partner.
I was hers, and she was mine.
Each and every sentiment was tinged with the emotions and memories she had of us, deep and lovingly assembled, a far cry from the first time we communicated with each other and a clear marker of just how much she’s grown with me. A single tear formed in the corner of my eye. I felt more naked under her gaze even beyond my physical state, bared fully towards someone else in a way I always had trouble with. I found I was very much fine with it, if it was her.
[GRATITUDE]
I felt almost pithy in my response, so taken aback by the sheer sincerity and love in her message. Still, I did my best; the emotions of every moment she’s been with me and all the memories I had of us together, from the battles we’ve been in, to the work and learning we’ve done, to the quiet moments we shared, just the two of us. The pride and joy I felt seeing her learn humanity while remaining herself, the trust I had that she would always have my back, and the love I felt for her ever since I realized I wanted to be more than just a host to her; that I wanted to be the one she looked to when she unraveled the secrets of the Way.
[ACKNOWLEDGEMENT]
Hera’s response of course was very her. Of course I would love her that much; I was her perfect partner, so of course I would understand how perfect she was. I snorted a laugh, sending the mental equivalent of a playful shove.
“Come on, don’t ruin the mood,” I admonished, a smile still on my face.
She leaned back towards me again in unspoken agreement, bending so her masked face leaned against my forehead and her heavy breasts, soft and malleable in a way real crystal wouldn’t be, pressed against my much smaller pair. Even discounting that they were larger on account of her taller frame, proportionally they were still huge, and each one was the size of my head, to my amusement. While she was technically clothed on account of her toga, it was made out of the same crystal of her body, and she didn’t bother modeling anything beyond a doll’s anatomy.
Still, as she continued to run her hands along my body, feeling every curve and muscle, I put my hands to feel her breasts. The crystal bent under my hands as real flesh did, and while I doubted she got the same sort of pleasure a human would, she still sent me a feeling of contentment as I did.
Several of her hands pried my thighs further apart, and I could feel some tracing their way up my inner thighs. My breath hitched as I felt them brush my labia, my anticipation spiking. A couple more traced their way down from my abs, brushing past the tightly trimmed bush I allowed myself to have. A barest flick of one of her fingers flitted across the hood of my clit, and I gasped. Her many hands firmly holding my legs open were more than enough to keep them from twitching close out of reflex.
The teasing continued for some time, the barest of touches to my sex stealing my breath and drawing out my anticipation, all the while so many other hands caressed and held me still in equal measure. It was even more effective for how little I expected it out of Hera; I wasn’t sure what I was expecting really when she proposed to gratify me sexually—perhaps something more mechanical or rote—but this sort of light edging was certainly not it. By the time she decided she was done toying with me I was already soaking the sheets with how wet I was, heart pounding a flush to my cheeks.
A hand snaked down cupping my mons, two fingers on each side of my labia, while another hand’s two fingers gently stroked up and down my slit, drawing out a soft moan from me. I gasped as her first hand’s fingers then spread my lower lips, exposing my pink folds to the air just as the second set of fingers flicked upwards on my clit on an upward stroke.
I felt her prod my opening with two more of her fingers, and I bit my lip as I just started to fully appreciate just how large her fingers were, feeling myself stretch all too pleasurably around them, my body welcoming her in so readily. I couldn’t help but moan, toes flexing and breath stuttering as she pushed in so easily to the first knuckle, then the second, and then bottoming out with almost no resistance, no thanks to how Hera wound me up like a spring earlier.
She didn’t stop there, as she slowly but steadily began pumping her fingers in and out, in and out. She sent a little check-in through our link, and I affirmed almost instantly, eagerness and affection bleeding into it readily as I moaned my appreciation. A thumb started pressing on my clit, rubbing in firm circles that sent my toes curling. My own hands moved to wrap around Hera’s neck, pulling her in so I could press my lips against her smooth mask. For a moment I wished she had a mouth, but I instead sent a burst of love and desire as a mental kiss, which she reciprocated to my delight. I felt some of her hands, none of which had stopped their ministrations of my body, slide upwards to grope at my breasts again, cupping them and running thumbs over my nipples. She curled her fingers against my walls, catching on a certain spot inside, and I let out a stuttered, “A-aah—!” at the spike of pleasure.
I let my normally fully composed expressions crumble under her attention, allowing myself to pant, to moan, to scrunch my face up in the pleasure my Hera was giving me. There was no reprieve in my swarm, no hiding my reactions. It felt freeing, to let go of the control that I had sought after my whole life in the arms of the one who loved me so dearly. All the while Hera stared down, irises in the shape of galaxies taking in every single expression I made and almost certainly filing it away for her own purposes.
A third finger joined its fellows inside me, and I let out a gasp. Hera then began to scissor her fingers, pushing against my slick walls in alternating patterns, drawing yet more involuntary sounds from me. Even so I craved more, and Hera obliged; a fourth, fifth, even sixth finger pushing inside from another hand she slipped down there, intersecting the first in ways that were impossible without more than three dimensions. My pussy was stretched deliciously, forcing a keening moan out of me. In and out they pumped, dragging along my inner walls and pressing against weak spots that I didn’t know I had.
My body was hot all over, flushed with arousal and want. The schlick-schlick-schlick of my lower lips was a constant backdrop to my meaningless babble above, a parade of “yes,” “more,” “Hera,” “love you,” and all sorts of fragmentory expressions. I wished I could share some of this with her, and I blamed my current state for why I almost forgot I could. With her approval, I opened our link wider, stopping just before our thoughts would truly blend together.
Hera felt every ounce of pleasure she gave me, every inch of skin caressed and held by firm hands and fingers held, carrying the overwhelming feeling of safety in the arms of the one I wanted in my life the most. She felt how much my body craved how much she stretched me open, how my walls clenched with every flex of her impossibly dextrous fingers, how every time she toyed with that little button above a spark of pleasure jolted through me, the way my toes curled as she squeezed my breasts and toyed with my nipples. The love and desire roiling from my core to my chest to my head and toes. Of how every sense was narrowing down to just her, my partner, my Hera.
And from her, I could feel how she truly felt about going three knuckles deep in me. As I suspected she was indifferent at best to the acts themselves; for her it was no different from operating machinery. But to call her interest clinical was a gross misunderstanding; all her interest was entirely because of me.
I was her puzzle. Every shudder, every twitch, every moan, every gasp, every clench of my pussy was just another piece, another button, another lever to pull and dial to tweak with my climax being the final prize. That it was my climax was why she was invested; that it was her that brought me from the aloof and all-seeing heir apparent to the Spider to a squirming, panting, flushed mess of a woman. I could feel how delighted she was seeing each and every reaction she drove out of me, each new facet of Akura Taylor Hebert she lit up. I felt her satisfaction that only she could see me like this, that this part of me was something that only she could bring out.
She would never care about sex the same way a human would, no matter how much closer to humanity she became. But she learned to care about me, and so she would learn how to cater to any sexual needs I had as best she could. Because she loved me.
This was what pushed me to the edge. This devotion from her. How she gave of herself for my pleasure when she wouldn’t receive the exact same in return, knowing I would do the same for her if I could.
“H-Hera!” I gasped out. I could feel the knot of pleasure in my core reaching a peak, my limbs going taut under her firm hands. Her spiral eyes stared straight into mine, a swirling galaxy of stars that swallowed my whole world. “I’m, I’m going to—!”
Hera sent only a single message.
[LOVE]
I came.
My vision whited out for a brief moment, my breath hitching out a gasp, my body seizing as my walls clenched hard around Hera’s fingers, squeezing rhythmically with my heartbeat. My toes curled and flexed, my arms pulling Hera’s mask down against my face as I pressed my lips against its smooth surface instinctually. All throughout my lover never stopped pumping her fingers, taking it slower and more deliberate, riding out my orgasm with me. It felt like eternity; cresting a wave of pleasure that rolled through my body and never seemed to end.
Eventually I came down from the high. My skin was flushed and caked in sweat, my breaths were ragged pants, my limbs were jelly. A haze of contentment had settled over me, and I knew every other one of my bodies had spaced out in the meantime.
Hera’s hands still cradled me, her hold firm, warm, reassuring. Over our link she sent soothing messages and impressions of care and affection, the closest she’d get to murmuring sweet nothings into my ear. I closed my eyes and let myself bask in the afterglow as my breathing slowly evened out.
Some minutes later, Hera still kneeling over me and no more tired than she was at the start (perhaps another thing she would lord over a human body), I managed to gather myself enough to speak properly.
“Mmmm,” I hummed, softly caressing her mask with my right hand. “Thank you, Hera. That was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”
[SMUGNESS]
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Never a moment of humility with you, huh?” I smiled up at her, my other hand finding one of hers and interlacing our fingers. “I still stand by what I said earlier. I don’t need sex to be happy with you. Just being with you, solving the countless problems of countless iterations, and plumbing the secrets of the Way together is all I really need. But if this is the sort of performance you’re offering, well,” I grinned toothily at her. “I can’t say no to a few more special occasions like this now can I?”
I felt the love and happiness from her that matched my own, and let out an involuntary “oh!” as she pulled herself backwards to kneeling upright, her many hands pulling me up in their cradling embrace so that I was straddling her lap. Two pairs of hands groped and supported my ass in equal measure, and I could already feel several more feeling their way to my dripping lower lips once more.
[CONTINUE]
I planted another kiss on her mask, the corners of my lips quirked upwards in fond affection and my hands moving downwards to Hera’s own chest. Then I felt her spread me open, and I lost myself in her once more.
Several hours later
Mercy happily hummed as finished putting on her clothes, tying the rainbow bow Miara gifted her ages ago to bind her flowing shadowy hair into her customary ponytail. Although Monarchs were beyond such needs, her girlfriend was indulging in some sleep in their bed, and she looked too adorable for Mercy to wake.
The night before was very enjoyable. She had an inkling of one of the reasons why she had so many brothers, sisters, and siblings, but she very firmly stopped her thought process from progressing further so as to not sully her memory of her mother. Regardless, Miara and her did their best to layer the strongest veils they could on their room, so hopefully her big sister wasn’t bothered.
Speaking of, she wanted to spend some time with Taylor today, maybe an outing to another play or visiting a bookstore together; anything really, so long as her sister relaxed and had fun. As the holder of the Joy Icon, it was basically her duty to make sure of it!
A quick check in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable enough, she activated the Moonlight Bridge, teleporting near Taylor’s closest body in a flash of silver light.
“Hi Taylor! How about we watch a play and—EEEP!”
She reflexively teleported very far away, ending up in the Reaper outpost on the Rosegold continent. Her face was very, very red and bright hot under her hands, which had slapped over her eyes way too late to stop her from registering her beloved big sister as very naked and very much in the many arms of Hera. In bed.
“Hey, you hear that high-pitched sound? Does this place have a leaking pipe or something?”
“No, I think it’s coming from that lady over there.”
The parts of her that weren’t screaming internally quickly teleported her to the nearest place with more privacy, her quarters in the Reaper outpost. She quickly grabbed a soft pillow and made that screaming external.
A knock on her door made her jump nearly to the ceiling, but she managed to call out, “One moment!” somewhat evenly. Taking a quick second to school her features (very firmly shoving those images of her sister into a deep dark mental box), she opened the door and immediately cringed.
One of Taylor’s bodies was there, fully dressed in her sacred artist robes and looking awkward. “Hey Mercy,” she said with a similarly awkward smile.
“Hi Taylor!” Mercy replied, a bit higher pitched than was normal. “Why don’t you, um, come in?”
Taylor did so without further comment, closing the door and covering the room with a veil. They stared at each other for a bit, both of them clearly not knowing what to say. Mercy fidgeted.
“So, um…” Taylor started.
“C-Congratulations!” Mercy immediately blurted out, before slamming her hands over her mouth and burning bright red.
Taylor choked on what she was going to say next, coughing. “U-uh,” she managed to say. “Likewise?” No sooner did that word leave her mouth did Taylor make a full-body cringe.
Mercy’s heart dropped even as she felt her whole body flush redder than Miara’s hair, because there was only one reason why Taylor would say that. This really wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted to bond with Taylor over.
They both stood there for several extremely awkward moments, before their eyes met and a silent understanding to never ever acknowledge what happened passed between them.
“So…” Taylor started again. “You said something about a play?”
“Y-yeah,” Mercy said. “I passed along a few of those plays from Earth I remember you talking about to one of the troupes in the Grand Amethyst Theater, and they managed to make several productions…”
The last dozen minutes had ranked as one of the most horrifying events in Mercy’s life, and she had been on a battlefield with three Dreadgods, faced down the end of the world, and witnessed many other terrifying things in her career with the Reapers.
Despite that, she was proud her sister had someone she could be happy with.
She was still going to try to forget that ever happened though.