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Arousal Level: Maximum

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“Good morning, Ptilo.” You yawn, stretching yourself out in your bedding. Yes, it was a good morning whenever you see the lithe, naked frame of your beloved assistant lazily sprawled out on top of you.

Ptilopsis rouses as well, lifting herself from your shaft as your juices dribbles down from her leg. Without another word, she goes to her next procedure, sliding those small but supple breasts down your chest as her head makes its way down to your crotch. Her tongue waggles on its approach, anticipating cleaning your length when your morning alarm goes off with a sobering racket; a fresh wave of panic when you realize that it was the third and final alarm of the morning.

“Not enough time.” You grunt, giving Ptilopsis’ soft ear tufts a gentle stroke before you slide out of bed. With a half-cocked spear waggling as you go, you rush to the shower. Morning meeting before the teams depart, and you were late yesterday because of this exact same situation.

“Doctor, Ptilopsis arousal still above operational threshold.” Ptilopsis says as she joins you beneath the relaxing stream of warm water. 

“I’m sorry, Ptilo, but you’ll have to wait until after the meeting.” You try an assuage her with a pat on her cute little butt, but that only makes Ptilopsis grab hold of your shaft and gently pump it.

“Ptilopsis can achieve maximum internal release in seven minutes and thirty-two seconds.” She says, looking up at you, “Five minutes and ten-seconds, if Doctor’s application of force is adequate.” She continues to pump you even as she turns to face the wall. Her unblinking amber eyes look back at you as she presses herself against the wall and sticks her butt out that little bit more.

“Ptilo-” you groan. It’s a damn tempting offer…

A rough hammering on the door to your dorm room, loud enough that you can hear it in the bathroom.

“Oi! Oi Doctor you better not be late this time!” Gavial shouts through the doors. It would have been Ptilopsis’ job to fetch you, but obviously no one could find her either. Clearly Gavial was already upset at this inconvenience to her day, and didn’t want you messing it up more.

“I’m sorry, Ptilo.” You apologetically give the back of her slender neck a kiss before you hastily finish scrubbing and rinsing. She’s still standing in the shower, the warm water running down in glistening streams that highlight the curves of her beautifully naked body. She watches as you dress, no doubt timing your every movements, calculating on if you really did have enough time to fuck her thoroughly. Your hand hesitates over the handle to your door as you look back to Ptilopsis.

“After the meeting we’ll have all the time in the world.” You promise, trying to keep down that uncomfortable guilt of leaving her hanging. Though she was expressionless, it didn’t mean she was emotionless, and something about seeing Ptilopsis standing there felt… like you were the bad guy here.

But what could be done? You both knew your duties, and even when you would sneak off to indulge in one another, you still always had to come back to your daily reality.

Today’s reality keeps you achingly separated, despite your promise to her. She was meant to assist Doctor Silence with Ifrit, and you had the coming operation prep to do. The team meetings were over in a flash, making you regret not indulging in your Liberi assistant. You could use some daydream material for the coming paperwork you had waiting for you in the office.

You sigh, sitting back into your office chair, not even wanting to open your eyes and see the stacks of papers waiting. When you roll into place, your knees bump into something beneath your desk. Odd, considering how you normally fit just fine. When you take a peek to see what the obstruction is, a pair of wide, dilated amber eyes stare back at you from the dark.

“Arousal level, one-hundred percent. Skipping dialogue options.” Ptilopsis, already on her knees, begins diligently undoing your pants before you even have a chance to register what the hell was going on.

“Ptilo- can’t it wait until after hours?”

“Negative. Ptilopsis has already waited the prerequisite amount of time.” Ptilopsis pulls your rapidly stiffening member free from your pants, giving it a wiggle as if to say “See?”

With perfect precision, Ptilopsis forms a ring around the base of your shaft with her thumb and forefinger, adjusting the pressure like it were a fine instrument, until it feels just right. Her breath on your sensitive tip is hot, and the gentle softness of her tongue as it glides against your glans makes you shiver with anticipation. Ptilopsis opens wide, her tongue out and ready like a red carpet reception. Her eyes unblinking, waiting for your reaction as she takes your length into her hot, moist mouth.

You try and stifle the involuntary groan as Ptilopsis’ head begins to bob gently, her tongue running down the length of your shaft until it meets the ring of her fingers then back up again. You feel your cock twitch in her mouth, and its her sign to move onto the second phase. The next time her tongue meets her fingers, she pulls that carefully calibrated pressure up the trail of sloppy saliva until her lips are on your tip and her fingers tight around your glans. It’s a distinct feeling, tightness of her fingers, then the soft puff of her lips, and finally that wiggling tongue. You wouldn’t deign to compare it to her wonderfully soft and burningly intimate lips between her legs, but this certainly is the closest thing you could vulgarly call a “mouth pussy.” 

The tufts of her ears twitch, hearing something that you can’t quite. Her eyes dart back, despite seeing only desk, but the action is clear. The door to your office- the scanner-pad was green... you hadn't thought to lock it!

The door slides open, and in the doorway stand Blue Poison, a bit surprised but still delighted to see you.

“Doctor! You’re in!” Blue Poison is holding her hands behind her back as she looks to you for permission to enter. You’re about to turn her away when you shiver with pleasure, Ptilopsis gliding her mouth-pussy down your cock once more.

“Doctor, are you okay? You seemed distracted during the meeting.”

“I’m fine!” You manage to squeak out as Ptilopsis squeezes the ring of her fingers that much tighter as she continues to bob her head slowly and agonizingly up and down the entirety of your shaft.

“You seem out of breath.” Blue Poison tilts her head, taking a step into your office. You try to move, to scoot more of your lap underneath the cover of your desk, but Ptilopsis wraps her other arm around your leg, holding you firmly in place so that she can work her precise, rhythmic blowjob.

“Just -ugh- ” you twitch, “Uncomfortable. Pinched nerve.” 

Blue Poison gives you a pitiable frown before perking up once again. She blushes slightly, her body language all the more shy as she walks to the foot of your desk. How she doesn’t hear the wet, sinful slather of your cock gliding into Ptilopsis’ mouth, you’ll never know, but she remains ignorant.

“I baked this for you because you seemed down, Doctor.” Blue Poison brightens up with the most adorable smile as she reveals a sickly pale, blue-frosting cupcake from behind her back. It’s even topped with a off-colored violet cherry, like she had tried injecting it with food coloring to keep with the color palette.

“T-thank YOU!” You shiver when you feel Ptilopsis tease your glans more with slow caress of her tongue. Blue Poison frowns slightly before looking to her cupcake expectantly. Of course you don’t care what it looks like, or frankly what it tastes like, you just need a distraction, need some way of playing off what was going on beneath the desk.

You take a bite.

And Ptilopsis takes as much of you into her mouth as she can, gently but vigorously pumping that which she can’t fit. She knows what is about to happen when your cock swells and twitches and her tongue eagerly teases you for the cream. 

You moan in the most unbecoming way as you take a second, hasty bite, hiding the fact that your fertile icing is pumping into Ptilopsis’ mouth.

“D-doctor? It’s… um that good?” Blue Poison blushes deeply, trying to avert her eyes as you gasp.

“Yes.” You breathily hiss through clenched teeth, trying to fight off both the wonderful pleasure of the sweetest desert and the sinful act below, nearly collapsing onto your desk. It’s enough of a scene for Blue Poison to quickly excuse herself, a squeal of delight escaping her as your office door closes shut behind her.

“Ptilo-” you groan, grabbing hold of the back of her head and trying to shove the frisky owl down more onto it as punishment. You can feel her throat working, taking deep hard gulps of your sticky icing until you feel her tongue working to clean up the rest off of your rod. Only then do you release her, scooting your chair back so that she can crawl out.

Of course, there's no look of shame or coyness on her face as she wipes the slobber and overflowed icing from her chin. In fact, there isn’t much of any expression on her face, as usual. Ptilopsis straightens out her skirt and fixes her shawl before staring at you.

“Ptilopsis arousal levels are at maximum. It is suggested that the Doctor and Ptilopsis retire to the dormitory for treatment immediately.”

“Agreeable course of action, Ptilopsis.” You say, pulling your pants back up. She still blankly stares at you, but you can feel the weight of her gaze, the arousal and the happiness beneath. No one stops you in the hall, seeing you follow diligently behind your personal assistant as she hastily moves, clipboard held against her breasts. They most likely thought it urgent Rhode Island administrative work- well, in your defense it certainly was urgent work.

You reach the Rhine Labs common room before taking a hasty turn to Ptilopsis’ room. It’s pristine white, cleanly organized and sectioned off like the medical operator herself… but you know you’re about to upturn something in here. Would it be the bed today, or perhaps her desk? Her chair looks particularly sturdy…

The door closes and bolts behind you, a hint to anyone who might have seen or heard you enter to what was about to occur. Neither of you are in a particular rush yet- this is how it always it. Methodological, procedural, at least until Ptilopsis is on the bed and you get her properly writhing, but for now, just polite pleasantries while the arousal simmers.

Ptilopsis bends over to remove her shoes when she suddenly collapses face first. At once you are at her side in a panic. Luckily she didn’t fall very far this time, and onto carpet as well. Her breathing is deep and steady, one of her narcolepsy spells. You can’t help but feel a bit deflated, who knows how long she’ll be out this time around, and if she’ll still be ready and rearing to go when she does wake up.

Her face pressed slovenly into the ground, her dainty ass sticking up in the air, that little bit of soft white fabric flashing just beneath her skirt. It gives you reminders of this morning, and just like that, you are hard again.

“Ptilo.” You give her a gentle shake, but the Liberi doesn’t budge. You contemplate picking her up and laying her on her bed...

But there’s something so sinfully alluring to the way that she is so involuntarily inviting. 

You run your hand up the back of her legs and get no reaction. Even as you cup one of her fine delicate cheeks and give it a squeeze, Ptilopsis neither budges nor quietly moans like how she normally would. There’s heat there though, her body still aroused despite the sudden slumber. You press your fingertips against the pure-white panties, tracing her heated lips just beneath the thin piece of modesty.

“Ptilo,” you moan lightly, “Ptilo wake up.”

It’s more a plea than anything else. You have a throbbing urge, and seeing your assistant in such a vulnerable position... well its certainly not respectful to partake, even if you do have her utmost trust and consent.

“Ptilo.” You try one more time as your fingertips press more into her. You can see her juices beginning to stain through, can feel her warm honey on your fingertips. Still, she doesn’t wake, her breaths still the gentle, steady rhythm of deep slumber. 

You watch her face as your fingers slip under her panties, touching her soft, soaked lips, tracing the inside of that precious slit and feeling just how silky smooth her nectar makes it feel. That desire is building up, shoving more and more of your self-control to the wayside as your fingers come up trailing with her sweet honey. In your unobstructed depravity, you lick it from your fingertips, delighting in that distinct sharp sweetness you know so well.

That was the last shackle of restraint you had left. You pull Ptilopsis’ panties down to her knees, taking your position behind her.

“Ptilo, wake up.” You make one last desperate plea for your sanity’s sake, and receive only a stifled snooze in response. All sense of restraint and dignity gone, you grab hold of Ptilopsis’ ass and press your tip gently into her flooded folds. There’s still no reaction, no moans or sighs as you glide into Ptilopsis’ very depths. You’re no stranger to her tightness, to her heat, but right now while she’s sleeping, it feels slightly different. There’s a tightness to her stillness. An unconscious, unfettered reaction when there wasn’t the frantic burning lust of when you usually partake of each other's bodies.

You take a short, gentle pump, testing the waters, but Ptilopsis is still fast asleep. Your second is a little bit more, about half of your length gliding out then in. Still nothing but the unconscious coiling of her insides around you. The next stroke is your full length, slow and tantalizing, delighting in the feeling of every fold, every bump that Ptilopsis’ tightness gives you. A wet squelch when you bottom out into her the only acknowledgement of your sinning.

And so you pump into her unconscious body, slow and steady, fascinated by the cream that smears your cock and the gentle jiggling of her ass when you thrust up into her.

“Ptilo…” You groan your unconscious lover’s name. You want her to wake up now, you want to see if your taboo changes that normally blank, robotic expression. If your fucking won’t wake her, perhaps something more depraved will. You take a scoop of her cream that you have freshly churned with your thrusting and smear it against her soft, plump lips.

And they part for a moment, a soft sigh escaping Ptilopsis before your finger wiggles into mouth. Her tongue slowly and lazily probes the intruder, tasting it. Feeling her drunkenly dance it around your digit like she would on your cock sends the shiver of thrill down your spine and right into your hips as you buck that little bit harder. It forces some air from her, a cute little grunt. You scoop another sinful dollop of Ptilopsis cream and put it up to her lips again. 

This time her tongue reacts to the warm mixture on her lips, lacksidazily licking the light whippings from your finger before she closes her lips around the tip, sucking gently. Gods even when you raise the seductive bar, she still finds a way to top you. You clench your eyes shut, trying to shut out the tantalizing sight you just witnessed lest it push you over the edge. You want to keep savoring this vulnerability, this total control… and when you open your eyes you see Ptilopsis’ bright orange irises staring back at you.

“Assessment; Doctor’s arousal levels far exceeded his common sense.” Ptilopsis says flatly, “Ptilopsis did not anticipate the Doctor’s dignity threshold to be so low.”

Her words would be harsh if it weren’t for the Oripathy leveling out her tone… or perhaps if she weren’t quietly enjoying it all the while. Ptilopsis remains face-down, uncomfortably craning her neck to be able to watch your every thrust into her, but you can feel the subtle swaying of her rear as she pushes it on you every time you throw your hips forward.

“That’s rich, coming from the woman who blew me as I was talking to another operator.” You grin, giving her a good deep thrust that makes her suck in whatever retort she had waiting.

“Ptilopsis… was merely…” 

“Merely what?” You draw all the way out until only Ptilopsis’ innermost mouth clings greedily to your cock’s head. You run a finger down the top of your shaft, taking as much of Ptilopsis’ churned honey onto your finger as you can.

“Ptilopsis… was merely…” She rolls over her words, the thought skipping like a scratched record as you take a lick of her cream. She loses focus, staring at your fingertip when you hold it out in offering. When she says nothing, you slowly place it up to her lips.

She’s unblinking, her eyes frantically darting to where your cock practically hangs from her, to your grinning face, then to your cream-and-honey-covered fingertip, over and over, unable to focus on any one as her arousal takes over. You wordlessly offer your ultimatum- you’ll keep fucking her like she wants, all she needs do is give into it again.

And Ptilopsis takes your finger into her mouth, her tongue frantically working to clean it, to massage it, to express what her words and tone are incapable of. With your other hand you grab hold of her slender waist, and she tightens in eager anticipation.

Your pelvis claps against her ass, making those amber orbs of hers flutter in delight. Over and over, the wet slaps and your grunts the only audible evidence of your lovemaking, but beneath the surface, Ptilopsis’ walls clench and write around you, her tongue frantically dancing over your finger, wordlessly begging you to keep going.

“Error.” Ptilopsis manages to squeak between ploughing thrusts that drives her cheek into the floor. “Error. Ptilopsis… arousal… beyond-”

Hearing her near-breathless monotone, her struggling to objectively state fact only drives you to try and force her to break habit.

“Ptilo!” You grunt her name, bending completely over Ptilopsis to fuck her like an animal now. You nuzzle her even as you continue to rut deep, feeling the softness of her ear tufts against your face, delighting in the warm smell of her lily-scented shampoo that clings to her still slightly damp hair.

“Error!” Ptilopsis breaths just the bit more frantically. The programming her Oripathy infection enslaves her with begins to crack beneath the weighty combination of your lusts. You’re not even thrusting now, just rolling your hips together with hot, wet squelches, trying to work your shape into Ptilopsis as best you can.

 “Ptilopsis is…Doctor, I’m- I’m!!!” Ptilopsis’ voice begins to crack. Her breathing is erratic, just like usual when she's about to orgasm, but there is something new, something exciting to this lovemaking that neither of you have experienced before.

Ptilopsis is smiling.

She closes her eyes, the pleasure etched on her face clearer than it has ever been. She half-giggles, half-cries from happiness before she reaches back to stroke your cheek. The desire, the joy glowing in her eyes… the fact that it is you who bore witness to the real Ptilopsis beneath only heightens the feeling of her intimate walls clinging so desperately to you.

“Doctor. I’m coming- I’m -mmnnnn!- ” Ptilopsis gasps, frantically running her hand through you hair, pressing her rear against you, trying to meld into you as best she can as her insides quake harder than when a land-ship rumbles to life. Her very walls writhe around you, massage you, wordlessly begging you for your release as well. 

“Doctor. I...! I…!” Ptilopsis gasps desperately, trying to force her words out before it all came crashing down again. 

You cling onto her, wrapping your arms around her chest to hold her tight as you give one final push into her deepest reaches. You shudder as you plant your seed into Ptilopsis, flooding her innermost chamber with everything you can give. She screams in delight, her whole body shivering with yours.

“It’s so warm. Doctor.” Ptilopsis coos, placing one hand over yours, the other gently massaging her lower abdomen, right above where you still sit inside of her. “I’m so… happy.” She whispers as you flop to the side, taking her with you as your little spoon. She makes no attempt to separate from you, no sense of urgency or obligation as you bask in one another’s happiness and pleasure. 

Eventually though, Ptilopsis sits up suddenly, her eyes wide and darting to every feature she can trace of you. You prop yourself up, just the slightest bit worried at her sudden shift. Before you can ask what is wrong, Ptilopsis leans down and kisses you gently- something that she very rarely did on her own.

“Affection levels for the Doctor… exceeding heart’s capacity.” Ptilopsis blushes, standing and gently tugging on your sleeve, pulling you towards her bed. “Does the Doctor… accept Ptilopsis’ invitation to spend the day here?”

“Ptilo.” You whisper affectionately, letting the Rhine Lab data analyst pull you down into her pristine sheets. You wrap your arms around her, a loving, protective blanket from the cold that was creeping back into her. There, nuzzled up next to you, she holds on tight, melting against you as you whisper into her ear, “I promise, we’ll find a cure for you together.”

“Ptilopsis would love that as… as much as… as much as... I do you, Doctor.” Her words have cooled once again, her expression once again relaxing into that neutral mask… but you know deep down that she will always show you the love and warmth you give her in her own little ways until the day she is finally cured. For now, the rest of the day be damned, you were going to spend it in the arms with the woman who loves you; she deserves it.