[ She could so easily crush him. Pin him down and destroy him. Yet somehow, some way, he almost feels as if he's stronger than her. 9S has to wonder if she's feeling fear, if in knowing he has the upper hand, she might find suffering. Like he had. Could he crush her?
The whirlwind of anger and obsession seems to bubble and broil deep in his chest, his internals hot and nearly corroding as time passes. And it likely is. As the virus continues its way through his system, it deteriorates him. Slow and steady, likely capable of keeping him alive in agony through a slow, painful demise. But 9S doesn't care about that, nor does he even pay attention. No. No, all he can focus on now is the hunger he feels for 2B.
He loved her so much. Loved her, hated her, feared her... But he could always just focus on the love and devotion. The others seemed so far away, so easy to forget--
Ah, but he did forget, didn't he? Reformatting after reformatting, cycle after cycle, murder after murder. Everything he had centered solely around 2B would forever cause his demise. All of the feelings surge through him at ones, creating a passionate yet deadly approach towards the assumed copy below him.
The sounds forced out of 2B set his internals ablaze, nerve receptors hyper-sensitive and firing off almost too much. He's addicted to it, starved, and 9S hisses to that combined with her almost fearful manner of questioning him. Such an innocent tone, and such an extreme contrast in the way she's hot and soaked already. He can feel it radiate through him, stealing a shuddered sigh. 9S moans against her lips when she returns the gesture.
He doesn't answer her, especially when he's pried her lips open and tangles his lips with her own. 9S wants her to shut up. Stop talking as if you're her. Stop reminding him of what he lost. He takes a sharp inhale through his nose, eyes tightly shut and brow furrowed. His hands tremble, but their resolve is set when one reaches for the band of her dress, yanking it back to undo her skirt. ]
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The whirlwind of anger and obsession seems to bubble and broil deep in his chest, his internals hot and nearly corroding as time passes. And it likely is. As the virus continues its way through his system, it deteriorates him. Slow and steady, likely capable of keeping him alive in agony through a slow, painful demise. But 9S doesn't care about that, nor does he even pay attention. No. No, all he can focus on now is the hunger he feels for 2B.
He loved her so much. Loved her, hated her, feared her... But he could always just focus on the love and devotion. The others seemed so far away, so easy to forget--
Ah, but he did forget, didn't he? Reformatting after reformatting, cycle after cycle, murder after murder. Everything he had centered solely around 2B would forever cause his demise. All of the feelings surge through him at ones, creating a passionate yet deadly approach towards the assumed copy below him.
The sounds forced out of 2B set his internals ablaze, nerve receptors hyper-sensitive and firing off almost too much. He's addicted to it, starved, and 9S hisses to that combined with her almost fearful manner of questioning him. Such an innocent tone, and such an extreme contrast in the way she's hot and soaked already. He can feel it radiate through him, stealing a shuddered sigh. 9S moans against her lips when she returns the gesture.
He doesn't answer her, especially when he's pried her lips open and tangles his lips with her own. 9S wants her to shut up. Stop talking as if you're her. Stop reminding him of what he lost. He takes a sharp inhale through his nose, eyes tightly shut and brow furrowed. His hands tremble, but their resolve is set when one reaches for the band of her dress, yanking it back to undo her skirt. ]