“Lower left. Four notches. No, wait… three.”
I turn the disc, and she takes a step back to get a better view. Her shoulder brushes against my chest for less than a second. She doesn’t seem to notice. But I do.
“That one, just a notch to the right. Yes. Now the big one in the center.”
The disc she points to is the largest one yet, positioned at the midpoint, and I grip it and slide it slowly while watching her face for confirmation.
“There. That’s it.”
She leans in closer, tracing a line with her eyes from one disc to another, and checking alignments while I shift my position to keep her within the span of my wings. She takes another step back to look, and this time, her hip bumps against my side, and she murmurs an apology.
Heat is building in me again. I try to suppress it, but my control is slipping. The arousal won’t fade, the pressure under my crotch plate is constant, and more fluid is pooling.
“I need you to lift me up,” Jessa says, turning to look at me. “I can’t see the discs at the top. The carvings are too small and too high.”
I don’t move. She looks up at me, waiting, and then she reaches her hands toward me and giggles.
“Uppity, come on. Put me on your shoulders.”
If I had teeth, I’d grit them. I can feel my cock weeping for her, and there’s no way to refuse without explaining why, so I step forward and place my hands on her waist. She’s so small that my fingers span her completely. I can feel the warmth of her body through her shirt, the softness of her flesh giving under my grip.
I lift her and position her on my shoulders. Her thighs squeeze against either side of my head, and my thoughts scatter as errors cascade faster than I can catch them and fix them. I pray that I don’t collapse, even though I know I’m incapable of structural failure. The fear is psychological. Emotional? Jessa is making me question my own artificiality.
Jessa giggles above me.
“Oh, this is unexpectedly nice. Heat exactly where you least expect it. But I don’t mind.”
She shifts to adjust her position, and her core rubs against the back of my neck. I don’t know if she realizes what she’s doing. I stand frozen while she settles herself.
I wonder… If I were a man, made of flesh and bone, would she behave the same? Sometimes, I think she sees me as a machine and treats me like one. She’s not wrong. I am a machine. But also, I’m… more?
With so many modifications done to me over the centuries, I can’t clearly define what I am anymore.
I extend my wings upward, and the steel feathers unfold and lock into position, forming a cocoon around her body. I leave gaps between the feathers so she can see, and bring her closer to the wall. My hands grip her calves to keep her steady, and my entire existence narrows to the feel of her thighs around my head and her core pressed against my steel.
Chapter Nine
Jessa
His heat makes it impossible to think.
The carved symbols on the rotating discs blur together as sweat beads on my forehead. I realize they seem more faded than the last time I attempted the puzzle. Or maybe, Castien’s body temperature is scrambling my brain so badly that I can’t focus on anything except the warmth radiating from every inch of him.
His wings wrap around me like a cocoon, trapping the heat he’s generating until the air grows thick and stifling. My shirt sticks to my back, and my cheeks start to burn. The steel between my thighs radiates warmth that seeps through my pants, and every time I shift to get a better angle, the pressure sends sparks shooting right through my ovaries.
I hum under my breath to keep myself focused, and point at the third disc from the left.
“Move that a notch down.”
Castien shifts his shoulders to reach the disc, and the movement presses him directly against the most sensitive part of me. I gasp and grab his head with both hands to steady myself as a jolt runs through my pussy, making me clench around nothing. The throb that follows is so intense I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. Wetness pools in my underwear as my body responds to the delicious pressure.
I’m trying so hard not to rub myself against him, but the heat makes everything feel hypersensitive. Every small movement he makes sends another wave of sensation through me, and I find myself gripping his head tighter than necessary, using the excuse of balance to maintain contact.
The last move is wrong, and I hear the mechanical click that means I’ve made a mistake. Darts shoot out of the walls in arapid volley, at least six of them, and I yelp as I duck low against Castien’s neck. The tiny arrows ping harmlessly off his steel body and wings, creating a metallic symphony.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice breathless.
“Yes. Areyouall right?”
