Interlewd Five

Interlewd Five

Delilah was somewhere approaching exhausted when she arrived at… home?

She wasn’t sure if the place was home yet.

She flew the Fury around the building a couple of times, idly watching the fading sunlight play across the silvery cat sitting atop the skyscraper. It was… extremely gaudy. Cheesy, even. But also very Cat, and very samurai.

Most corps shied away from anything this overt. That was asking for trouble. Cat didn’t seem to even have a second to spare to wonder about her appearance when it came to this kind of thing. Which was one of the big reasons why Delilah… Gomorrah, chose to make this place her home.

It was an overt declaration. ‘A samurai lives here. Don’t mess with it.’ And she liked that.

Driving the Fury around, she slid into the parking garage and into her slot. Soon she’d have a parking spot for the Fury in her part of the building, but for now this place was private and secure enough.

She wasn’t impressed with Cat’s security so far. It was lackadaisical. Some turrets tucked away on the outside of the building, none hard enough to break through the armour of a flying APC. It was enough to deter civilians, maybe, but that was it. She was working on upgrades, which started with the suite of flamethrowers tucked into the roof of the elevators. Anyone riding it with ill intent would reach their destined floor as char.

She’d be adding more, of course. Scanners, and security drones on patrol routes. Some flamer turrets here and there. Maybe some missile pods hidden in the walls able to fire out of the building?

She didn’t plan on turning it into a fortress… just a place that would be so costly to attack that it wasn’t worth it.

Her home, when it became home, would be safe. For her, and for…

For Franny.

Delilah swallowed. She’d gone a whole ten minutes without thinking of Franny. Almost a record.

She had no idea what Franny was to her at the moment. A girlfriend? Maybe? She hoped.

They certainly kissed like girlfriends did.

They were getting better at it. No more clicking teeth together, no more bruised noses. Though… the fumbling early stuff had been nice too, in a way. Inexperience and awkwardness all led to something that was as funny as it was… hot.

Delilah found herself licking her lips. She wanted that taste again.

Franny liked a particular brand of lip balm. It was minty.

Delilah wasn’t a big fan of mint anything. From cookies to toothpaste, she found the taste too strong.

She loved it on Franny’s lips.

The elevator opened so suddenly that Delilah jumped a little. Atyacus sent her augs a silent report from the house. There wasn’t much to report, really. Everything was still under construction.

She stepped out and took it all in. More walls had been added, but they were unpainted and rough still. The construction drones were deeper in, moving at a snail’s pace as they lifted a precut piece of metal and then bolted it into place on some framing.

Her home wouldn’t have anything flammable in it. That meant metal walls and tile floors. It would be tricky to decorate, but that would come in time.

“Oh.”

Delilah turned, then paused to take in Franny. She was standing there, out of her habit. Instead, Franny was in tattered, very tight jeans, with a belt that looked like it had little bullet casings all around it. Her shirt was a size too small. Maybe two, judging by the amount of stomach it left exposed, and the way it clung around her chest.

“Hi,” Delilah said as her brain engaged. She blinked as she finally noticed Franny’s hair. Or one lock of it, in any case. It was a bright, almost neon blue. It clashed hard with Franny’s natural, orange-y hair.

“Welcome home,” Franny said with a grin. She was blushing a little. It was always very obvious with her, her skin was too pale to hide it, and her freckles stood out whenever that line of red blossomed across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah,” Delilah said. “It’s nice to be back. Did… did you need a ride back, or something?”

It was getting kind of late. Delilah wouldn’t mind driving Franny back though.

“I thought I’d stay the night,” Franny said.

“Oh,” Delilah replied. She could feel the blood rushing up to her face, but she willed it away. “Is the guest bedroom done?”

“No,” Franny said matter-of-factly.

Delilah started jumping to conclusions. “Oh,” she repeated. Then she cleared her throat and pushed on. This wasn’t the first time she was tongue-tied, but it used to be a rare occurrence. She’d always prided herself on having a good demeanour, on being stable and level-headed. Recently, that had been harder, and not because she was frequently facing off against hordes of ravenous aliens.

It was her ravenous maybe-probably-girlfriend that was a bigger threat in Delilah’s mind.

“I’m starving,” Delilah said. “Do you want to order something?”

“Yeah, sure!” Franny said. “The kitchen’s not ready, but there’s an island to eat at, and I found a couple of stools we can use.”

“Alright,” Delilah said.

So they ambled over to the kitchen while Franny talked about food. Delilah only glanced down at Franny’s rear once. A quick peek which still made her feel impossibly guilty. It was wrong. She needed to have better control over herself.

They ordered from a place nearby, just a building over, in fact, and Delilah abused her control over the few drones she had on security duty to have one waiting in the parking garage for the food.

By the time they were sitting next to each other in the barren kitchen, the food was already being cooked up in some little kitchen somewhere.

They started talking about furniture. “We’ll have to decide what you want to buy for points, and what we’ll buy for credits,” Franny said.

“It feels almost sacrilegious to spend points on something like a couch,” Delilah said, and she was happy to see Franny nodding.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Yeah. Probably ninety-nine percent buy the old fashioned way. We need a fridge, some cabinets, couches, seats.” Franny patted the stool between her legs. She always sat inappropriately, knees apart. It was distracting.

“I think we can manage that,” Delilah said.

“But some things we should get protector-made,” Franny said.

“The doors,” Delilah replied instantly. “I want them to be safe.”

“And the bed.”