She watches Zenyatta, deep violet eyes flicking over him as the world still looks upside-down. It feels appropriate for someone like the monk and the absent sounding comment on her looks makes her grin.
"Thank you." Sombra stretches, a gesture born of her own vanity as much as it's done for his benefit. A lazy wave disperses the vidscreen that she'd been glancing at, a shower of spark like pixels flickering over her skin as she sits up.
The augmentation along her spine glows faintly, the seams branching from it seeming to shift to actual tattoo work along her shoulders and arms.
She is sinuous in every sense of the world, rising with a ruffled waterfall of dark hair and a subtle, lean roll of muscle along her back and shoulders. Small, smaller even than him, but strong.
Zenyatta hums in amusement.
"If I had second thoughts," he answers, "I would not be here at all. I trust you."
It is, perhaps, the most foolish offer an omnic could possibly make- his body, his brain, in the hands of Talon's most notorious hacker- but it is a true and honest gesture. Without a moment of hesitation he settles down on the bed beside her and, head cocked playfully to one side, kicks his sandals off with a flourish. "Unless you are the one with a change of heart?"
The only response his question gets is a chuckle, low and melodic. Such simply stated bravery suits him, though she can't decide if it is his faith or his youth that bolsters it. Most people forget how young Zenyatta is - it's partly his bearing and partly his design, it's hard for most people to conceive of an omnic being a 'child'. He's younger than half her age plus seven and for a moment, she wonders if he'd been flesh and blood if it would have given her pause.
"You're interesting," she finally replies, moving to straddle him with an easy grace. "Now it's time to see if you're any fun."
Almost instantly, her breathing syncs to the hum and whirring of his processes and the glow of the augment on her spine intensifies enough to cast purple light on her skin. He feels more delicate under her, Sombra was so used to the more brutishly built omnics from Los Muertos and Talon and the difference makes her cock her head at him.
"You know, I would have thought for sure you had some rule about chastity."
Sombra is, as always, so effortlessly confident, climbing into his lap like a cat settling down for affection- though he suspects the kind of affection they have in mind for the night will not be quite so cosy. Without hesitating Zenyatta smoothes his hands up her waist, one flat to her shoulder blades as the other cups her hair, warm and heavy in his open palm.
Their synchronisation is as subtle as a heart-beat beneath the skin, yet he feels it all the same. It should be strange he supposes, to be so perfectly in-tune with an organic being, but he shucked thoughts of difference a long time ago. Whatever gaps remained, Genji filled in.
Still, it surprises him to see the way her augmentations react to him as he laughs softly in response. "Even if the Shambali did have your kind's peculiar fear of physical intimacy," he answers, "their rules do not apply to me anymore. And even if they did..."
His fingertips graze her hairline, the metal implants along her scalp. "Rules are really more like guidelines."
She's almost surprised at the feeling of his hands along her skin, warmer than one would think a man made of metal could be. Her eyes flit over him in further consideration as she does her best to not arch completely into his touch. He's handsome, she decides as she smirks at his response to the chastity jab.
"When flesh and blood ends up like this, babies tend to happen -so it's not fear, per se."
His touch skims higher, to sensitive scalp and even more sensitive augments and Sombra can't help it. It's been a long time since she's had anyone so she rolls her hips and leans forward, lips parting as she leans her forehead on his.
"You'd make a good thief with that kind of flexibility."
Resting her arms over his shoulders, she draws her nails along the plate on the back of his head. Every flesh and blood man shuddered at that kind of treatment, their eyes fluttered or rolled at the not quite painful pressure. What does this sort of contact feel like to an onmic, she wonders.
"You ready?"
It's all the warning he gets as there is suddenly a buzz, a giveaway for the activation of her implants and the sound continues as she draws her fingertips away from Zenyatta's plate experimentally. Violet eyes glow dimly to match the light of her spinal implant and for good measure she rolls her hips again - after all, they never said she couldn't take her own pleasure from this.
Ah, yes, procreation is something of a wildcard in the mix... but this is hardly the time for philosophising, and Zenyatta willingly silences whatever counter-argument might have been queued to run in his synth. Far better to focus on the way she moves against him, dangerously nimble as she navigates his body with every inch of her own.
"A thief," he muses aloud. "I have never heard that one before. I prefer to think of myself as open-minded."
And he is. Must be, if he is letting Sombra draw those clever nails along the back of his head, tracing the seams of plating and wires beneath. Even if she did not in all likelihood know his model by heart, she could still rip them out as she saw fit and disable him.
But that is part of the fun, isn't it? The risk? It's why he simply nods to her question and, as she pierces the veil of his consciousness, waves away every last warning that flashes up in his HUD.
There's a sound, like static but sharper as the hack begins.
It's like diving, swimming - his protection suites are fairly sophisticated, if she had to wager, the escalation seems more like the adrenal system in humans over anything she's seen in a computer. It's smooth until she begins to hit the programs responsible for his functionality; the entire feeling shifts. She's not supposed to be here and the feeling of the information is tense, like his systems know she's not supposed to be there.
There is another experimental flick of fingers,another static filled whine when she gets the first bit of subconscious resistance. It's his stimuli response suite, or at least she would guess that it is, as she inputs the first phantom touch - fingers tracing down his spine.
He can feel Sombra reading between the lines of him as intimately as if he were guiding her character by character, weaving herself into his very coding; how many times has she done this before, he wonders? How many partners has she opened wide as a book?
It seems pointless to ask, when the immediate reality of her presence is so demanding. Something slips within him, and his spine jerks into a sharp arch, a gasp pulled from his synth with sudden, shivering input in his back.
"C-clever! Very clever!" In spite of himself Zenyatta is laughing. Of what he is only half certain is his own accord, he wraps the woman lightly in his arms, one long, spindly hand coming to rest on the shelf of her hip where it remains, caressing the curve of her ass through the lace.
Sombra's laughing too, pleased at how beautifully his systems mesh. It's a discovery that makes her grin, threatens to make her shiver as his touch drifts over her curves. She'd expected lag or some sort of hesitation at foreign stimuli - but he arched and gasped so prettily, she might as well have touched him herself.
"Oh, you haven't seen clever..." her tone is proud and far too amused as she rolls her hips again. "But I can definitely show you."
Now that she can manipulate his responses, she starts with another tease; nails drawing gently along the plates of his body, starting at his neck and swirling in random patterns all over.
Sombra grinds down on him as if he were little more than a charming object for her personal gratification, and perhaps to some extent she is right to do so; with time to delve deep enough Zenyatta suspects that she could root herself into every part of his memory and make him dance like a puppet on a string. He might never be the same again.
Yet strangely, and maybe foolishly, he trusts her.
"Show me," he says, and his voice glitches with thwarted expectations as the touch multiplies and crawls like a spider across his sensors, ghosting along every inch of him, just beneat the threshold of frustration.
Twitching, his hand clenches, squeezing its warm, yielding handful, she is so small and yet so demanding in her own ways, fuller here than he was anticipating- "O-oh. That is v-ery nice," he admits, staticky. Of their own accord his hips jump against the soft place between Sombra's legs.
It's so easy to tease someone so honest, though the static in his voice is a nice little surprise. And it's her turn to be so easily read, grinning before she leans forward pressing every available inch of skin she can to his body.
And perhaps Zenyatta is glad to make it easy for her, charmed as he is by the light, playful way she ribs him, made all the better by the knowledge that at any moment she could land an altogether crueler blow.
Could. But will not.
Sombra's body is warm and soft and so unexpectedly real amongst the chaos of input, close enough now to mist chrome with her breath, breasts crushed to his chestplate.
"Please." He nuzzles into the nape of her neck; kisses are beyond him, but perhaps she will appreciate a buzz of omnic energy along her skin. "If you will indulge me."
Sombra hums quietly, lifting her head to let him access her neck further. Faintly, she wishes he could kiss and her imagination does most of the hard work for her as she feels his energy make the hairs on the nape of her neck stand.
Would he tease her with his tongue along her throat? Or maybe with a graze of teeth at the edge of her jaw. In fact she never considers that he isn't a tease. Not with that sense of humor or ~open-mindedness~.
No, he would tease her until he was sure she wanted him - enough to leave her pleading with laughter for mercy.
It's that thought that makes her isolate the the sensations, to a single pair of stimuli. The feeling of sinking his cock inch by inch into wet heat and nails raking slowly down his back to match that pace.
"We could do that," she intensifies her manipulation of his receptors for a split-second emphasis. "for real, if you want to."
But where would the excitement be without that frisson, without shadowy fingertips skimming his expectations, whispers against his aural sensors? Perhaps yes, Zenyatta could make her beg, in time- but for now Sombra is the one in the driving seat, so to speak, and she makes herself felt with the most delicate patter of her augmented nails.
A moment later his entire lower body is alive with ghostly friction, silicone consumed by soft heat. His sensors go haywire, his voice tripping in his throat as he tries to answer-- then he speaks.
"My dear," he answers, a smile lifting the edges of his voice, still ragged with the aftershocks, "I am in your thrall."
A pause. There is, at least, space enough for Zenyatta to act of his own accord. Sombra would almost be forgiven for missing the subtle click of his modesty panelling withdrawing beneath the fabric of his trousers.
"If you would like me to fuck you, it would be my pleasure. And yours."
Sombra's heart beats for adrenaline and hard won victory, for her foes scattered around her and especially for a proud head bowing. The control is almost always better than sex and the few who can get a hold of her know its easier to bow than it is to seduce her. It's been that way for her since even before she knew how good sex could be - but the surrender...
Surrender is a whole new drug for her.
This close, he can he see her violet eyes darkened with arousal, the growl so rarely heard as she grins at his admission, knife-sharp and wicked.
"Damn right you are..."
For a split second, her eyes flick down at the sound of something moving. She twists her fingers, noting the change of his modesty panel in the alerts of his stimuli response suite.
And Zen says 'fuck' and her brows flick upwards. She's ultimately amused by his choice of word, pushing him to lay on his back.
"You're gonna need some dirty tricks if you think you're gonna fuck me, Zen." She rolls her hips again, nearly riding him.
Zenyatta is feather-light; he seems almost to float onto the bed in slow-motion, laughing, the mattress a soft and welcome presence at his back. The sheets feel dangerously, sinfully luxurious against his sensors, already primed and over-sensitive from Sombra's teasing. Backlit as she sits on his hips, pupils blown wide and dark, half-hidden by that violet sweep, she smiles down at him, hands still braced against his chest.
"I am," he says wryly, "nothing if not optimistic."
At least her fingers are out of his head, and the immediate, intimate pressure of her presence has relieved itself a little. But she's still there. Zenyatta is certain of it. This time he meets the grind of her hips with one of his own, soft mound meeting newly-released cock, silicone and segmented steel spreading her obscenely beneath her panties. It glows faintly along its length, against the plush heat of her cunt.
"What I would really like," he says, slowly and deliberately, his hands twitching as they come to rest on the top of Sombra's thighs, "is to bring you to the Iris."
Under her, his own is rapidly warming, swelling in anticipation. He is leaking, teal on the sheets.
She grins and chuckles, saying nothing as she looks over him. He's well built, the way he moves elegant even now and she can't help but indulge a momentary thought about how this might go down. He would be boring if he simply let her ride, though it would probably be a couple of very technically proficient orgasms he could get out of her before she got too annoyed to continue.
One thing that she never quite adjusted to was feeling when an omnic got hot for it and the feeling of him growing hard under her earns a moment rarely seen. Focus is something that Sombra has in spades, it comes as easily as the coding she has such unholy proficiency with - but the feeling of him sliding under the thin fabric leaves her feeling greedy and she can't help but take a moment to really enjoy it.
She hears him, distantly almost as she starts to grind onto his cock, lips parting slightly as she enjoys the subtlety of the differences between the silicone and the rapidly warming steel. Zenyatta, create-build, thanks is the thought she sends back to the her encrypted setup, followed quickly by Toy, adult, commission.
And then he makes it weird, a little, talking about the Iris before breaking into a giggle. His hands feel good on her skin and she rocks a little differently as she teases him.
"Is that what you call it?" She makes a pointed look where their hips meet, noting the color of his lubrication. Nice choice. "You gonna -ah- 'enlighten' me?"
Zenyatta laughs- a soft, playful little sound that shatters like a mirror into glitchy fragments as those hips throw him off. Through the flimsy fabric her sex moulds itself around his cock as she rolls her hips without haste; she crests against the firm ridge of his cock, coaxing a soft, hitching sound that is just a hair too synthetic to be a gasp.
All it would take is the slightest pressure to take them the rest of the way. To slip her panties aside and grind into the silk beneath, tease her entrance, to thrust upwards at just the right angle-
No.
"I-in certain practises," he manages, recalibrating his voice- doubtless Sombra will have something to say about that, he doubts she will allow him any degree of composure for long, "sexual intimacy is seen as a gateway to divine knowledge- and climax..."
His hands shift until each thumb can slip beneath either side of her panties.
"... as the ultimate unity." Without a shred of remorse Zenyatta pulls, abruptly drawing the fabric taught into the sensitive folds her cunt- all while glowing up at her beatifically, haloed by his own light. If after that she can still pay any attention at all to the goings on in his head, she may well anticipate the second set of hands, hard-light, that palm her knees, warm and almost weightless but so tangibly real.
Sombra slows the rock of her hips carefully, very carefully because frankly, the omnic's grasp makes her ravenous. She has half a mind to skip further foreplay and get herself off, when Zen speaks and sounds far too calm for her liking. Her eyes snap to his faceplate before the corner of her mouth lifts in very slow smirk.
"Was it your temple's practice," she purrs, drumming her nails on the plate of her chest. The whine of her hack sounds and violet light illuminates her pupils once more. "Or did you just learn that in your studies?"
The touch to her knees draws a momentary glance and an impressed raise of her eyebrows. She rolls her hips again and the feeling is excruciating. The heat of her, the slow slide along his cock. Doubling his usual sensitivity is cruel, but Sombra is pretty sure he can take it.
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no subject
"Thank you." Sombra stretches, a gesture born of her own vanity as much as it's done for his benefit. A lazy wave disperses the vidscreen that she'd been glancing at, a shower of spark like pixels flickering over her skin as she sits up.
The augmentation along her spine glows faintly, the seams branching from it seeming to shift to actual tattoo work along her shoulders and arms.
"Last chance to back out, Zen."
no subject
Zenyatta hums in amusement.
"If I had second thoughts," he answers, "I would not be here at all. I trust you."
It is, perhaps, the most foolish offer an omnic could possibly make- his body, his brain, in the hands of Talon's most notorious hacker- but it is a true and honest gesture. Without a moment of hesitation he settles down on the bed beside her and, head cocked playfully to one side, kicks his sandals off with a flourish. "Unless you are the one with a change of heart?"
no subject
"You're interesting," she finally replies, moving to straddle him with an easy grace. "Now it's time to see if you're any fun."
Almost instantly, her breathing syncs to the hum and whirring of his processes and the glow of the augment on her spine intensifies enough to cast purple light on her skin. He feels more delicate under her, Sombra was so used to the more brutishly built omnics from Los Muertos and Talon and the difference makes her cock her head at him.
"You know, I would have thought for sure you had some rule about chastity."
no subject
Their synchronisation is as subtle as a heart-beat beneath the skin, yet he feels it all the same. It should be strange he supposes, to be so perfectly in-tune with an organic being, but he shucked thoughts of difference a long time ago. Whatever gaps remained, Genji filled in.
Still, it surprises him to see the way her augmentations react to him as he laughs softly in response. "Even if the Shambali did have your kind's peculiar fear of physical intimacy," he answers, "their rules do not apply to me anymore. And even if they did..."
His fingertips graze her hairline, the metal implants along her scalp. "Rules are really more like guidelines."
no subject
"When flesh and blood ends up like this, babies tend to happen -so it's not fear, per se."
His touch skims higher, to sensitive scalp and even more sensitive augments and Sombra can't help it. It's been a long time since she's had anyone so she rolls her hips and leans forward, lips parting as she leans her forehead on his.
"You'd make a good thief with that kind of flexibility."
Resting her arms over his shoulders, she draws her nails along the plate on the back of his head. Every flesh and blood man shuddered at that kind of treatment, their eyes fluttered or rolled at the not quite painful pressure. What does this sort of contact feel like to an onmic, she wonders.
"You ready?"
It's all the warning he gets as there is suddenly a buzz, a giveaway for the activation of her implants and the sound continues as she draws her fingertips away from Zenyatta's plate experimentally. Violet eyes glow dimly to match the light of her spinal implant and for good measure she rolls her hips again - after all, they never said she couldn't take her own pleasure from this.
no subject
"A thief," he muses aloud. "I have never heard that one before. I prefer to think of myself as open-minded."
And he is. Must be, if he is letting Sombra draw those clever nails along the back of his head, tracing the seams of plating and wires beneath. Even if she did not in all likelihood know his model by heart, she could still rip them out as she saw fit and disable him.
But that is part of the fun, isn't it? The risk? It's why he simply nods to her question and, as she pierces the veil of his consciousness, waves away every last warning that flashes up in his HUD.
Ready or not, here she comes.
no subject
It's like diving, swimming - his protection suites are fairly sophisticated, if she had to wager, the escalation seems more like the adrenal system in humans over anything she's seen in a computer. It's smooth until she begins to hit the programs responsible for his functionality; the entire feeling shifts. She's not supposed to be here and the feeling of the information is tense, like his systems know she's not supposed to be there.
There is another experimental flick of fingers,another static filled whine when she gets the first bit of subconscious resistance. It's his stimuli response suite, or at least she would guess that it is, as she inputs the first phantom touch - fingers tracing down his spine.
no subject
It seems pointless to ask, when the immediate reality of her presence is so demanding. Something slips within him, and his spine jerks into a sharp arch, a gasp pulled from his synth with sudden, shivering input in his back.
"C-clever! Very clever!" In spite of himself Zenyatta is laughing. Of what he is only half certain is his own accord, he wraps the woman lightly in his arms, one long, spindly hand coming to rest on the shelf of her hip where it remains, caressing the curve of her ass through the lace.
no subject
"Oh, you haven't seen clever..." her tone is proud and far too amused as she rolls her hips again. "But I can definitely show you."
Now that she can manipulate his responses, she starts with another tease; nails drawing gently along the plates of his body, starting at his neck and swirling in random patterns all over.
no subject
Yet strangely, and maybe foolishly, he trusts her.
"Show me," he says, and his voice glitches with thwarted expectations as the touch multiplies and crawls like a spider across his sensors, ghosting along every inch of him, just beneat the threshold of frustration.
Twitching, his hand clenches, squeezing its warm, yielding handful, she is so small and yet so demanding in her own ways, fuller here than he was anticipating- "O-oh. That is v-ery nice," he admits, staticky. Of their own accord his hips jump against the soft place between Sombra's legs.
no subject
It's so easy to tease someone so honest, though the static in his voice is a nice little surprise. And it's her turn to be so easily read, grinning before she leans forward pressing every available inch of skin she can to his body.
He's warm.
"Do you want more?"
no subject
Could. But will not.
Sombra's body is warm and soft and so unexpectedly real amongst the chaos of input, close enough now to mist chrome with her breath, breasts crushed to his chestplate.
"Please." He nuzzles into the nape of her neck; kisses are beyond him, but perhaps she will appreciate a buzz of omnic energy along her skin. "If you will indulge me."
no subject
Would he tease her with his tongue along her throat? Or maybe with a graze of teeth at the edge of her jaw. In fact she never considers that he isn't a tease. Not with that sense of humor or ~open-mindedness~.
No, he would tease her until he was sure she wanted him - enough to leave her pleading with laughter for mercy.
It's that thought that makes her isolate the the sensations, to a single pair of stimuli. The feeling of sinking his cock inch by inch into wet heat and nails raking slowly down his back to match that pace.
"We could do that," she intensifies her manipulation of his receptors for a split-second emphasis. "for real, if you want to."
no subject
A moment later his entire lower body is alive with ghostly friction, silicone consumed by soft heat. His sensors go haywire, his voice tripping in his throat as he tries to answer-- then he speaks.
"My dear," he answers, a smile lifting the edges of his voice, still ragged with the aftershocks, "I am in your thrall."
A pause. There is, at least, space enough for Zenyatta to act of his own accord. Sombra would almost be forgiven for missing the subtle click of his modesty panelling withdrawing beneath the fabric of his trousers.
"If you would like me to fuck you, it would be my pleasure. And yours."
no subject
Surrender is a whole new drug for her.
This close, he can he see her violet eyes darkened with arousal, the growl so rarely heard as she grins at his admission, knife-sharp and wicked.
"Damn right you are..."
For a split second, her eyes flick down at the sound of something moving. She twists her fingers, noting the change of his modesty panel in the alerts of his stimuli response suite.
And Zen says 'fuck' and her brows flick upwards. She's ultimately amused by his choice of word, pushing him to lay on his back.
"You're gonna need some dirty tricks if you think you're gonna fuck me, Zen." She rolls her hips again, nearly riding him.
"I think I'd like to see you try, tho."
no subject
"I am," he says wryly, "nothing if not optimistic."
At least her fingers are out of his head, and the immediate, intimate pressure of her presence has relieved itself a little. But she's still there. Zenyatta is certain of it. This time he meets the grind of her hips with one of his own, soft mound meeting newly-released cock, silicone and segmented steel spreading her obscenely beneath her panties. It glows faintly along its length, against the plush heat of her cunt.
"What I would really like," he says, slowly and deliberately, his hands twitching as they come to rest on the top of Sombra's thighs, "is to bring you to the Iris."
Under her, his own is rapidly warming, swelling in anticipation. He is leaking, teal on the sheets.
no subject
One thing that she never quite adjusted to was feeling when an omnic got hot for it and the feeling of him growing hard under her earns a moment rarely seen. Focus is something that Sombra has in spades, it comes as easily as the coding she has such unholy proficiency with - but the feeling of him sliding under the thin fabric leaves her feeling greedy and she can't help but take a moment to really enjoy it.
She hears him, distantly almost as she starts to grind onto his cock, lips parting slightly as she enjoys the subtlety of the differences between the silicone and the rapidly warming steel. Zenyatta, create-build, thanks is the thought she sends back to the her encrypted setup, followed quickly by Toy, adult, commission.
And then he makes it weird, a little, talking about the Iris before breaking into a giggle. His hands feel good on her skin and she rocks a little differently as she teases him.
"Is that what you call it?" She makes a pointed look where their hips meet, noting the color of his lubrication. Nice choice. "You gonna -ah- 'enlighten' me?"
no subject
All it would take is the slightest pressure to take them the rest of the way. To slip her panties aside and grind into the silk beneath, tease her entrance, to thrust upwards at just the right angle-
No.
"I-in certain practises," he manages, recalibrating his voice- doubtless Sombra will have something to say about that, he doubts she will allow him any degree of composure for long, "sexual intimacy is seen as a gateway to divine knowledge- and climax..."
His hands shift until each thumb can slip beneath either side of her panties.
"... as the ultimate unity." Without a shred of remorse Zenyatta pulls, abruptly drawing the fabric taught into the sensitive folds her cunt- all while glowing up at her beatifically, haloed by his own light. If after that she can still pay any attention at all to the goings on in his head, she may well anticipate the second set of hands, hard-light, that palm her knees, warm and almost weightless but so tangibly real.
no subject
"Was it your temple's practice," she purrs, drumming her nails on the plate of her chest. The whine of her hack sounds and violet light illuminates her pupils once more. "Or did you just learn that in your studies?"
The touch to her knees draws a momentary glance and an impressed raise of her eyebrows. She rolls her hips again and the feeling is excruciating. The heat of her, the slow slide along his cock. Doubling his usual sensitivity is cruel, but Sombra is pretty sure he can take it.