The groggy, disorienting haze of waking up in the dimly lit back booth of the Afterlife? It enveloped V like a comforting yet insistent embrace from an old lover, warm and familiar but laced with the subtle ache of a body pushed to its limits the night before. She let out a deep, drawn-out yawn, her crimson lips parting wide as she stretched her arms above her head, the soft blanket that had been draped over her shifting slightly with the motion. Underneath, her voluptuous body came alive in that lazy, human way—her full, heavy breasts rising and falling prominently against the thin, sweat-damp fabric of her black tank top, the material clinging just enough to outline their perfect, rounded shape and the faint outline of her nipples perking up in the cool, recycled air of the bar. The booth's low, ambient lights cast gentle shadows across her pale skin, highlighting the subtle glow of her subdermal tattoos that flickered like distant cherry blossoms when her adrenaline had spiked during dreams of the previous day's chaos. V's narrow waist twisted slightly as she arched her back, feeling the human stiffness from crashing out on the worn cushions, while her wide, hypnotic hips settled more comfortably, her ass—firm and sculpted from endless rooftop chases and merc gigs—pressing into the seat with a soft give that made her sigh. God, mornings like this reminded her of her humanity in a city that tried to strip it away piece by piece; no chrome could fully erase that groggy vulnerability, the way her long ebony hair tumbled messily over her shoulders, framing her face with those high cheekbones and piercing green eyes hidden behind sleepy lids.
She blinked slowly, her Kiroshi optics humming faintly to life with that familiar blue glow, adjusting to the low light as they reflected off the small table in front of her. There, waiting like a thoughtful gesture from a partner who knew her routines inside out, was a steaming mug of coffee—black as the void, strong enough to kickstart a dead engine, just how she preferred it to chase away the fog of sleep. The aroma wafted up, bitter and grounding, cutting through the lingering scents of stale smoke and spilled booze that permeated the Afterlife's air. Across from her in the booth, Rogue Amendiares lounged with that effortless fixer queen poise, her silver hair tousled in a way that screamed late-night dealings or perhaps a quick tumble with some contact—V couldn't be sure, but it added to her allure. Rogue's lean, battle-hardened body was clad in a simple top that hugged her firm breasts and scarred abs, paired with pants that clung to her toned legs, her cybernetic eye whirring softly as she scrolled through a data shard on her deck. Seeing Rogue there, so composed and watchful, stirred something deep in V's chest—a flicker of human contentment, that rare sense of being cared for in a sprawl where everyone was out for their own eddies. But beneath it, the worry from Misty's rescue still gnawed at her like a persistent virus, a reminder that friends in this city were fragile treasures, and last night's free gig had left her emotionally drained, her body craving rest even as her mind geared up for whatever came next.
V sat up more fully now, the blanket pooling around her waist like a discarded lover's sheet, exposing more of her voluptuous form to the booth's intimate confines—the tank top riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of her toned midriff, her jeans from the night before hugging her thighs like they were molded to her skin, the fabric worn soft from countless rides and fights. She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, feeling the subtle tension there from sleeping awkwardly on the couch, a human stiffness that no amount of chrome upgrades could fully erase. Another yawn escaped her, stretching her features and making her crimson lips part again, before she reached for the coffee mug, wrapping her fingers around it and taking a slow, savoring sip. The burn was perfect, hot and bitter, jolting her system awake and chasing away the remnants of sleep's fog. Her long ebony hair fell in those messy waves, brushing her shoulders as she tilted her head, framing her face in a way that made her look both vulnerable and fiercely beautiful. "Mornin', fixer queen," V murmured, her voice coming out husky and low from the night's rest, laced with that modulated purr her vocal enhancer added for extra allure, even when she wasn't trying. She set the mug down with a soft clink, her optics fully online now, scanning Rogue's face with a mix of affection and curiosity.
Rogue looked up from her shard, that sly, predatory smirk curving her lips in a way that always sent a little thrill racing down V's spine—human desire bubbling up unbidden, mixing with the casual bond they shared. Her gravelly voice, roughened by years of barking orders and whispering deals, dripped with flirtation as she leaned forward across the table, setting the shard down with a deliberate motion. "Mornin' yourself, marked one," she replied, her eyes tracing V's form with unabashed appreciation, lingering on the way the tank top clung to her ample cleavage, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing making those full breasts shift enticingly. "You snore like a revved-up Quadra engine when you're out cold, but damn if you don't look absolutely edible all rumpled and sleepy like that. Makes a woman want to drag you back under the blanket for a proper wake-up call." The words hung in the air, charged with that playful lust, Rogue's cyber eye whirring as it zoomed in slightly, drinking in every detail—the faint glow of V's subdermal tattoos, the way her wide hips filled out the jeans, her ass curving perfectly against the seat. It was their thing, this casual heat—no strings, just mutual fire that flared when it suited them—but in moments like this, it felt almost tender, a human connection in a city that devoured such things.
V felt a flush creep up her neck, that human warmth spreading through her as she met Rogue's gaze, her own lips quirking into a small smile despite the lingering exhaustion. But business beckoned, and she nodded toward the shard on the table. "What's the news cycle saying? Militech still scrambling?" Rogue pushed the device across, the holo-news interface flickering to life with a soft hum, projecting headlines that screamed across the air in bold, glowing letters: "Militech Mega Hack: Black-Site Breach Blamed on Rogue Employee and Mysterious Fire!" Footage played in loops—drones capturing the Badlands facility smoldering under a hazy sky, corpo security teams swarming like ants, execs in tailored suits barking into comms as they spun the narrative. The story painted it as an inside job gone wrong: some low-level tech supposedly torching the place and bolting with prototype data on neural-linked drones and AVs, eddies vanishing into the net. V's name? Buried deep, nowhere in the feeds—her clean getaway holding strong, no traces leading back to her seductive play with Meredith Stout or the framed gonk who'd take the fall. But V knew better; she quickhacked a side channel on her agent, pulling up a discreet feed on Stout herself. The acquisitions higher-up was fine, pacing a boardroom in some gleaming tower, her sharp features set in that ice-cold determination, barking orders without a hint of the vulnerability V had exploited during those wild, intimate nights. No suspicion on her—Stout's secret weakness for curves like V's remained locked away, her rep intact. A wave of human satisfaction washed over V, pride mixing with relief; in this city, pulling off a gig like that without blowback was rarer than real booze
"Well, good results huh, Rogue?" V said, setting the mug down with a clink, her voice laced with that cocky edge she reserved for moments of victory, her breasts shifting as she leaned back in the booth, the tank top stretching taut over them in a way that drew Rogue's eyes like magnets. The fixer queen's smirk widened, her gaze darkening with a hunger that was as familiar as it was electric, and before V could say another word, Rogue closed the gap across the table—her lips crashing onto V's in a fierce, possessive kiss that ignited like a plasma round. It was instant heat, Rogue's hands sliding up V's arms with urgent need, fingers digging into her shoulders as their tongues tangled hot and urgent, exploring with that passionate familiarity they'd built through their casual trysts. V moaned softly into the kiss, arching closer without thinking, her heavy breasts pressing firmly against Rogue's chest, nipples hardening through the thin fabric as the sensation sent jolts of pleasure racing through her core. Rogue's cyber-enhanced hand cupped V's face, thumb tracing her jawline with a tenderness that contrasted the roughness, while her other hand groped lower—sliding around to squeeze V's ass through the jeans, fingers kneading the firm, rounded flesh with proprietary hunger, pulling her half onto the table as if the booth's privacy was all the permission they needed.
"Fuck, you're so hot, V," Rogue growled against her lips, her voice rough and breathy, biting V's lower lip hard enough to sting and draw a sharp gasp that only fueled the fire. The kiss deepened, tongues battling with wild passion, Rogue's mouth tasting of coffee and smoke as she nipped at V's neck, leaving red marks that would bruise later. V's body responded in kind, that casual fire they shared flaring bright—her hands roaming Rogue's back, nails raking lightly through the top, pulling her closer as she felt the heat pool between her legs, her wide hips grinding subtly against the table's edge for friction. Rogue's groping grew bolder, one hand slipping under V's tank to cup a breast directly, squeezing the soft, heavy weight, thumb rolling the nipple until it ached deliciously, making V whimper into the kiss. "Your efficiency, that confidence... it makes me want to hump you right here, bend you over this booth and pound you senseless with everything I've got," Rogue whispered, her breath hot on V's ear, the words sending shivers down her spine as the fixer's free hand dipped lower, fingers tracing the seam of V's jeans between her thighs, pressing just enough to tease the growing wetness there.
V's pulse raced, that human desire surging—god, Rogue knew how to push her buttons, turning a simple kiss into a prelude to something wild and intimate. She bit back, nipping Rogue's earlobe, her own hand sliding under the fixer's top to grope her firm breast, pinching the pierced nipple in retaliation, drawing a low growl from Rogue that vibrated through them both. The booth felt too small, too public, but that only added to the thrill, V's curves heaving with each ragged breath, her ass flexing as she shifted closer, imagining Rogue flipping her over right there, jeans yanked down, that strap from their last hookup pounding deep and rough. But the gig loomed, that practical merc side kicking in amid the passion; V pulled back breathlessly, cheeks flushed pink, her breasts heaving with the motion as she straightened her tank, nipples still hard and visible through the fabric. "Tempting as hell... but business first. Who's this mystery client shelling out big eddies for a week of bodyguard duty? Can't keep 'em waiting if they're paying premium."
Rogue chuckled low in her throat, reluctant but respecting the shift in V's tone, her hand lingering on V's thigh for one last squeeze before withdrawing, fingers brushing the inner seam of her jeans in a teasing farewell that made V's core clench with unfulfilled want. "Always the pro, huh? Alright, firecracker—here's the file." She slid a encrypted data shard across the table, the surface glowing faintly with locked info: no name attached, just coordinates for a mid-tier apartment building in Westbrook, the kind of place that screamed discreet but secure, no flashy corpo towers but solid enough to keep low-level gonks out. "Paid upfront in clean eddies, no questions from my end. High roller type, wants total discretion—bodyguard for a week, keep threats at bay. Figured it'd suit your style; you're reliable, deadly, and let's be honest, that body of yours could distract a whole gang while you blade the rest. Might even turn into some fun on the side if the client's your type."
V pocketed the shard, feeling that buzz of anticipation mix with her human curiosity—what kind of client drops big creds for a merc like her without showing their face? It smelled of secrets, the kind that could lead to eddies or trouble, but after the Militech clean sweep, she was riding high on confidence. "Alright, I'm in. Catch you later—owe you for the blanket tuck last night, and maybe more if this gig wraps quick." She stood with that signature sway of her hips, the jeans hugging every curve of her ass as she grabbed her leather jacket from the booth's hook, slinging it over her shoulder. Rogue's eyes followed her every move, that appreciative gaze like a physical caress, making V's skin tingle with the promise of later passions. Out into the sprawl she went, the Afterlife's bass fading behind her as she mounted her ARCH Nazaré, the bike roaring to life between her thighs like a mechanical lover, wind whipping her hair as she tore toward her apartment for a quick gear-up.
Back in her Heywood hole-in-the-wall, V shed the night-before clothes with a sigh, her naked body a masterpiece in the mirror: those full, heavy breasts hanging free and swaying with her movements, nipples still sensitive from Rogue's earlier tease, her narrow waist leading to wide hips that flared out invitingly, her ass round and firm as she bent to grab fresh gear. The human ritual of changing grounded her—slipping into a simple top that hugged her curves like a second skin, the fabric stretching taut over her ample bosom, making her breasts look even more pronounced as she adjusted the neckline. Black jeans next, tight and flexible, clinging to her legs and ass like they were custom-fitted, the material worn soft from use but durable for whatever came. Leather jacket over it all, heavy and protective, with pockets for her Malorian and extra shards. Sneakers for practicality—no heels today; she needed mobility if this gig turned sideways. As she dressed, her mind wandered—that lingering heat from Rogue's kiss still simmering low in her belly, a human ache for more, but the mystery client called, stirring that thrill of the unknown. Who pays top eddie for a week's watch without a name? It could be a trap, or it could be easy creds—either way, V's rep was climbing, and she felt that cocky edge sharpen her focus.
The ride to Westbrook was a blur of neon and traffic, V weaving her bike through the sprawl's arteries, wind biting her face and tugging at her jacket, her jeans clinging tight to her thighs as the engine vibrated between them. The building was unassuming—mid-tier corpo digs, no gangs lurking in the alleys, just the hum of drones and salarymen shuffling in and out. V parked secure, heels—wait, sneakers today—thudding softly on the pavement as she took the elevator to the top floor penthouse, her optics scanning for threats out of habit. Knocking sharp on the door, Malorian holstered but ready, she braced for anything—a shady fixer, a paranoid exec, maybe even a trap from Militech stragglers.
The door swung open, and V's optics widened in genuine surprise, a human laugh bubbling up from her chest as she took in the sight: Judy Alvarez, the Mox BD editor with her fierce spirit and tech-savvy edge, standing there still a bit roughed up from the Maelstrom kidnapping—bandages wrapped around her arm where a stun baton had left its mark, a fading bruise coloring her cheek like a shadow, but that bright, fierce smile lighting up her face like a holo-projection in the dark. Judy's lithe body was clad in a loose tank top that hinted at her modest but toned curves, shorts riding up her thighs as she leaned against the doorframe, her hair tied back in that practical style that screamed "I'm busy creating art, not posing." V felt a flutter in her chest—that human mix of relief at seeing her safe and a spark of attraction, Judy's cuteness hitting her anew with those expressive eyes and the way she held herself, bruised but unbroken.
"Judy? If you wanted the date this quick, you didn't have to pay for the job," V teased, stepping inside with a grin, her hips swaying naturally as she locked the door behind her with a firm click, the sound echoing in the entryway like a promise of privacy. The apartment was a stark contrast to the building's bland, functional exterior—nicely arranged with cozy, ambient lighting that cast warm glows over everything, walls decorated with vibrant holo-art depicting swirling braindance sequences and bold Mox graffiti tags that screamed rebellion and creativity. Shelves were crammed with modern technical equipment for her BD job: editing rigs humming softly with processing power, screens flickering with raw footage of emotional highs and lows captured in virtual glory, cables snaking like veins across desks loaded with data shards and neural interfaces. It was Judy's world—creative chaos tamed into something warm and inviting, a haven in the sprawl that made V feel oddly at home, that human sense of comfort settling in amid the tech glow.
Judy laughed, that cute flush creeping up her cheeks as she closed the distance, her eyes tracing V's form with unabashed interest—the way the simple top hugged her ample breasts, making them look even more inviting, the black jeans clinging to her wide hips and firm ass like they were made for her. "Couldn't resist the chance, chica. After you stormed in like a legend and saved my ass from those chrome-freaks? Figured a week's 'protection' was the perfect excuse to get you all to myself—paid Rogue extra to keep it discreet." She led V deeper into the apartment, her limp slight from the injuries but her spirit unbroken, that resilient fire making V's heart twinge with admiration. V's worry flared up again—that human protectiveness kicking in strong—as she scanned the space more thoroughly, checking windows for weak locks, doors for reinforced bolts, her leather jacket open to reveal the top clinging to her sweat-damp skin from the ride, breasts shifting with each step as she moved like a predator assessing her turf.
"How you holdin' up, really?" V asked, her voice softening with genuine concern, that human empathy shining through as she settled onto the plush couch, her curves sinking into the cushions, breasts bouncing slightly with the motion, the top riding up to expose a sliver of her midriff. Judy sat close beside her, their thighs brushing in a way that sent a subtle spark through V, and it was then that she noticed it fully—the subtle but unmistakable bulge in Judy's shorts, fat and intriguing, that futanari secret stirring a low, building heat in V's core. God, it made her pulse quicken, that mix of curiosity and attraction bubbling up raw and human, Judy's cuteness amplified by the vulnerability of her bandages and the way she carried her hurts like badges.
"Been better, honestly—those Maelstrom fucks roughed me up good, zapped me with batons and dragged me like meat, but the bandages are holdin' and Vic patched me up quick," Judy admitted, her voice carrying that Mox edge of defiance, but her eyes softening with gratitude as she handed over a mug of coffee and a simple sandwich—thoughtful touches that made V's heart warm. Their fingers lingered on the exchange, that flirt starting slow and electric, Judy's touch sending little jolts up V's arm. They talked for hours, the conversation flowing easy and deep: Judy's passion for braindances, how she edited raw emotions into immersive art that let people feel the highs and lows of life without the risks, her voice lighting up as she described splicing neural feeds to capture that perfect moment of ecstasy or heartbreak. V shared merc tales in return—stories of close calls and victories that made Judy's eyes widen with admiration, her hand resting on V's knee, sliding up her thigh through the jeans in subtle strokes that built tension like a slow hack infiltrating a system.
"You're a badass, V—the way you stormed that factory, blades flashing, dropping those gonks like they were nothing? It was hot as hell, made me feel safe for the first time in days," Judy confessed, her flush deepening, eyes tracing V's cleavage where the top strained, that bulge in her shorts growing more pronounced as the air thickened with desire. V felt it too—that spark igniting, human and electric, Judy's cute fire drawing her in like a moth to plasma. "You're not so bad yourself," V murmured, leaning closer, their lips meeting slow and tentative at first—soft brushes that turned deeper, tongues teasing as passion built, Judy's hands groping V's breasts through the top, squeezing the heavy weight with reverent hunger, thumbs circling nipples that hardened instant under her touch.
The kiss exploded from there, Judy's mouth hungry and urgent, biting V's lower lip as her hands yanked the top off, freeing those full breasts to the air. "God, these tits... so full, so perfect," Judy whispered, mouth descending hot and wet to latch onto one peak, sucking hard while her tongue swirled circles around the nipple, teeth grazing just enough to sting and make V arch with a gasp. V moaned loud, her hands tangling in Judy's hair, pulling her closer as pleasure shot through her core, her wide hips grinding against Judy's thigh for friction. Clothes shed frantic in the frenzy: V's jeans peeled down by Judy's eager hands, exposing her slick heat, fingers dipping in to stroke slow and teasing; Judy's shorts dropped next, revealing that fat cock, thick and veined, hardening fully under V's stroke as she wrapped her hand around it, pumping slow. "Fuck, you're packing serious heat," V breathed, dropping to her knees on the carpet, taking Judy deep into her mouth—sucking slow and wet, tongue swirling the head, bobbing with rhythm as Judy bucked her hips, hands fisting in V's hair, groaning low with pleasure.
The pounding came next, wild and intimate—Judy flipping V onto the couch, spreading her wide, entering slow at first to savor the stretch, that fat length filling V completely, making her cry out as walls clenched. Then the rhythm turned rough: deep, hard thrusts that slapped skin on skin, Judy's hands groping V's ass, spanking the firm cheeks red as curves jiggled with each pound, her mouth biting down V's neck, sucking marks into the pale skin. "Take it all, V—feel how deep I go," Judy growled, one hand sliding up to squeeze a breast, pinching the nipple hard while thrusting harder, hitting spots that made V's moans echo through the apartment. V's legs wrapped around her waist, nails raking Judy's back, drawing thin lines as pleasure coiled tight, her breasts bouncing wildly with the force. Bites littered her tits—Judy's mouth latching on, sucking and biting until they ached red and sensitive, the intimacy blending with raw lust as they chased release. Climax hit like a system crash—V clenching hard around Judy, screaming her name as waves ripped through her, Judy following with a guttural moan, filling her hot and deep in shuddering pulses.
They came down slow, bodies tangled in sweat-slicked bliss, laughs mixing with pants as they cuddled close on the couch. Day faded intimate: more talks about BDs and fears, Judy's head on V's chest, feeling safe in her arms as they dozed, that new romance bubbling warm and promising, V's thoughts drifting to future nights of passion.