Work Text:
"You look like hell, V."
Leave it to Judy Alvarez to show up unannounced and strong-arm her way into your apartment, citing that she hadn't seen you in a while, then look you up and down and insult you. She really is one in a million: unafraid to tell it like it is and there when you need her most. You'd just been thinking about her, actually, so it's kind of weird how perfect her timing is.
"Thanks."
"Oh, don't give me that look; you know what I mean. Where've you been?"
"Been busy," you grunt, reaching into a pocket on the inside of your jacket to fetch a carton of smokes. You're almost out, you note, before stowing it and searching your other lapel for a light.
You plop down on your beat-up leather couch and Judy takes a seat next to you. She puts her feet up on the coffee table and you don't miss a beat as you reach over and shove them off.
She grins sheepishly. "Oops. Forgot."
"Uh huh."
"So what's got you so "busy" anyway?"
A man materializes just beyond Judy. Long-haired and grungy, he exudes an air of judgmental superiority even though his gaze is hidden behind a pair of dark shades. Busy is putting it mildly. Your hands have been very full lately.
You scowl as you light your cigarette, then take a drag. Former terrorist Johnny Silverhand is an unwanted tenant in your head and his presence during your more private affairs borders on voyeuristic. It's creepy and upsetting, but what can you do?
Judy mistakes the expression's intended target for herself. "Or don't tell me. It's all good."
Guilt fills you. You want to tell her, but you're technically not allowed to. Not that that's ever stopped you before, but your… growing attachment—something you have trouble thinking about much less admitting to—gives you pause.
Just spit it out. Be nice to brag to your best choom here.
That's not it, dumbass.
Not that your little secret isn't brag-worthy. After all, it's no small feat to bed a powerful and influential woman like Militech senior operations manager—
A loud, hard knock at your door makes you drop your cigarette. Judy gives you a look as you swear under your breath and grab her by the wrist, hauling her into the next room. Your rathole apartment is too damn small, a problem that you've managed to disregard for the most part up until this very moment when you're trying to hide someone. Judy continues to ask questions that get no answer right up until the moment you shove her into the closet and block the door handle with the back of a wooden chair. Not a moment too soon: The front door swings open to reveal a well-dressed, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length blonde hair swept back in a pompadour.
—Meredith Stout.
What the fuck is going on with your luck today? That's twice now you've thought about someone and, lo and behold, they appear on your doorstep.
Just for shits and giggles you envision your favourite celebrity, naked and inviting you to share a wild night of passion.
…
…
…
Didn't think so.
Meredith is more than able to soothe that minor disappointment as she crosses the living room, kicking the door shut behind her, to claim your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing is a relatively new part of your intimacy and, as such, it takes a frustratingly long amount of time to pull yourself away and hold her at arm's length.
"What are you doing here…?" you ask, before you're too lust-addled to do so.
Normally, Meredith would shoot you a message with an address and you'd show up as soon as physically possible. Also… you don't remember giving her the coords to your apartment. Her presence here makes your place seem even smaller and dingier.
"I'm horny," she says, her frank tone suggesting that that response should be sufficient. And it is. Kind of.
Work must be riding her ass lately because she's been riding yours a lot more frequently. She's not rough, per se, but aggressive—as though she's trying to distract herself. You want to ask, but personal inquiries run the risk of causing Meredith to shut down completely. So, in the interest of dealing with the throbbing desire between your thighs you shut the hell up and let her lead you over to your bed.
\./
Meredith is at least ten years your senior and she's aged like fine wine. The Corpo executive takes care of herself, evidenced by her tight, trim form. That isn't to say she isn't without curves; full, pillowy breasts and a shapely rear are accentuated by her typical attire—a long-sleeved blouse woven with Kevlar for a layer of protection and a long pencil skirt, both black—that soon forms a pile on the floor.
Your breath catches in your throat, but you're not given an opportunity to appreciate her naked body as she grasps a fistful of your hair and pushes you lower. It's a not-so subtle hint and you obediently begin kissing a trail down the flat expanse of her stomach. The blonde shivers under your touch as you stroke slow circles over her hip and plant a kiss on her mons. She's clean-shaven in contrast to your untamed bush, her labia flush with arousal. Meredith's legs part, inviting you lower, and you grip her thighs, lifting them over your shoulders while you bury your face between them.
You're enveloped in the musky scent of feminine arousal and the warmth of her body as you kiss her lower lips. She makes an impatient sound, her hips twitching, and you toy with the idea of teasing her. Deciding it's not worth the backlash, you begin licking Meredith Stout's cunt with long, lingering swipes of your tongue. Her taste is faintly bitter, its familiarity causing your own sex to ache longingly.
You're eager to please her, the throaty sounds she makes guiding your tongue as you explore her folds. Meredith writhes beneath you, dancing lewdly on the tip of your tongue as you thrust it as deep as it will go. Her fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as she groans, and you focus your attention on the sensitive bundle of nerves above her slit. You flick your tongue across it rapidly, urging her towards orgasm, and you can tell by the pitch of her moans that she's close.
When Meredith climaxes, pale thighs clamp down on either side of your head, muffling her cries as she shudders bodily. You continue to lick her, sending a second shockwave of ecstasy rippling through her before the first has died out. When at last you stop and observe your handiwork, blonde hair is mussed and blue eyes are unfocused. You hide a smirk by wiping your hand across your mouth and the back of it is shiny with feminine excitement.
Meredith pulls herself together rather quickly. She doesn't say anything as she helps herself to the cigarette box on your nightstand—a bad habit she's picked up from you—and lights it. A satisfied sigh accompanies her exhale as the nicotine rush compounds her post-coital endorphins.
"That was excellent." It feels more like an assessment handed down from a boss to an employee than a compliment. Meredith has a talent for making things feel transactional. She continues to smoke even when you straddle her lap and spares you a glance that is difficult to read. You clear your throat impatiently, anxious, horny energy humming through your frame. It's been too long for your liking and, per her instructions, you haven't taken care of yourself either. If she leaves you like this, you're going to lose your shit.
A full 120 seconds pass before she's finished. Meredith flicks the cigarette butt aside—on the floor, like your place is no better than the streets of Night City. Before you can complain, she kisses you deeply and the transgression is immediately forgotten. You can taste the smoke on her breath as your tongues twist against each other and she reaches between your bodies. Your breath hitches when her fingers find purchase in wet heat.
She wastes no time sinking three fingers into your sex, up to the third knuckle, and you grit your teeth as your inner muscles stretch to accommodate them. She swallows your whimpers as you adjust and begin to bounce your hips to meet her thrusts. Her pace quickens, focusing mercilessly on a spot deep within that makes your knees weak, and you cry out hoarsely. You don't want to cum yet, relishing in the incredible sensations that wash over you, but you're given little option as Meredith wriggles the pads of her fingers powerfully against your inner walls.
Orgasm is swift and all-encompassing: your mind goes blank as your inner muscles clench spasmodically. Your euphoria is short-lived, your sexual appetite demanding further gratification. Meredith pulls her fingers free and you don't miss a beat when she lifts them to your mouth, your own taste coating your tongue as you lick them clean. The submissiveness of the task turns you on and, when you sneak a glance at Meredith's face, you realize she's likewise affected.
"On all fours."
You nearly trip over yourself in your haste to get into position, your heart racing. Your senses are on high alert as you listen to the bedsprings creak as Meredith leaves the bed and then the rustling of fabric. You're not even sure how she concealed it on her person, but when you glance over her shoulder, Meredith is attaching a cybernetic cock to herself. The chrome implant that juts from her pelvis boasts a hyperrealistic design and many features—the most important of which is its neural connectivity which allows the wearer to feel sensation as though the member is their own flesh and blood. It must have cost a small fortune and Meredith has definitely been making sure she's getting her money's worth.
She gets on the bed behind you, lining the toy up with your entrance. Then, the thick mushroom head forces you open, the penetration aided by just how wet you are, and your eyes roll back as you raise your hips. The angle causes the toy to slide deeper, coming to a stop once Meredith's pelvis meets your buttocks, and the sensation of fullness is incredible. You shiver and squirm, your inner walls throbbing with the desire for friction.
"God, you're tight," Meredith grunts, her palm coming into firm contact with the curve of your ass with a loud 'slap!'
The pleasant sting only makes you tighter and Meredith definitely notices because she groans. That's all the warning you get before she starts fucking you with hard, fast thrusts. It's almost as though the synthetic cock is made especially for you: its length, girth, and even the slight curve of the shaft are perfectly suited to driving you wild with pleasure. You bounce your hips to meet Meredith's thrusts, the two of you moving in tandem as only compatible lovers can. It's a glorious give-and-take that satisfies both parties in equal measure as orgasm approaches and your moans fill the room in a throaty chorus.
You're the first to succumb to the deluge of pleasure, a hoarse cry leaving you as you buck and shudder. Meredith doesn't let up, grunting with exertion as she hammers into you, and you bury your head in the pillows as your moans escalate in pitch and frequency. You can feel another orgasm approaching and try your best to make sure Meredith is right there with you as you clench down tightly around the synthetic cock and roll your hips. She rewards your efforts with a spanking and each strike, alternating cheeks, causes your pussy to twitch.
"I'm gonna—" you gasp.
Meredith pulls out all the way, the head of the cock leaving with an audible 'pop!', and then buries herself to the hilt in your ass with a single powerful stroke. You cum immediately, the white hot intensity of your orgasm sweeping through you in a tsunami of ecstasy. You arch, choking out a wordless cry as you claw at the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself. You're vaguely aware of Meredith's nails digging into your hip as her thrusts become uncoordinated, her own orgasm rippling through her as your inner muscles milk her cock for all it's worth.
By the time Meredith untangles herself from you, you're both sweaty and exhausted. She takes a quick shower, an activity during which she prefers solitude, as you have learned, and you stare up at the ceiling. You glance over when the water stops and watch as the blonde woman dresses herself. Gone is the lusty Corpo mature who entered your apartment; Meredith is all business as she nods a farewell and turns to leave.
"When can I see you again?" It's out of your mouth before you can stop yourself and you groan inwardly. Why'd you have to go and ask something like that, you gonk?
Meredith blinks and you can't tell if she's surprised by the question or perturbed by its significance. From the get-go, she's maintained that these trysts are nothing more than two people taking care of their needs. How would she respond if you told her that your needs have changed?
Finally, she says, "I'll be in touch."
And then she's gone.
You sprawl out on your bed, your ass and pussy aching in the best of ways, and your chest tight. The sheets are twisted up and halfway off the bed, damp with a mixture of sweat and arousal. Your combined scents fill you with an odd mixture of longing and despondency.
Shouldn't you be experiencing a little post-nut clarity right now? Johnny Silverhand asks.
Huh? You look up to see he's leaning next to the bedroom window. Neon light filters in through the grimy glass, making it difficult to tell what time of day it is. What are you talking about?
He smirks and, naturally, instead of clarifying, he asks another question: Weren't you doing something before your lady friend barged in?
It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to understand what he means as your brain operates sluggishly beneath a thick haze of lust. When realization strikes, it's like you've been socked in the gut: You'd forgotten about Judy.
… shit.
With a weary sigh, you cross the room to let her out of the closet. You really hope this isn't going to be painfully awkward, but given the circumstances that's not possible. When the dark-haired BD engineer steps out of the cramped space, looking everywhere but you, you sigh again and return to your bed to give her some space. It feels like a crime scene now with the way Judy moves around warily, hesitant to touch anything.
"Was that who I think it was?" she asks at last.
Meredith's face has been all over the news of late thanks to Militech's recent acquisition of some smaller arms-dealing megacorp. Plus… you're pretty sure you called out her name in the throes of passion at least half a dozen times. There's no doubt Judy knows exactly who was just in your bed.
"Yup."
You locate your last cigarette and light it—only to scowl when Judy swipes it. After a long drag, she breathes out and smoke spills from between pursed lips. Her doing so sends your mind back to your recent encounter with Meredith and that makes things even more awkward, if that's possible.
"Damn…" Finally, Judy looks you in the face. For a moment, you mistake her slack-jawed, wide-eyed look as astonishment, but then her eyes sparkle and you realize what you're seeing is admiration… and perhaps a little bit of arousal? "That shit was hot ."