Impulse Control

Getting off the treadmill, Dawson retrieved a towel she'd left sitting on top of her arm chair and rubbed it through her shoulder-length black hair. Even when she was shutting her down, Alenia was struck by how magnetic she found Dawson's body.

"I doubt I could even keep up with whatever twisted ways people are doing it in the streets now," she went on. "Trust me when I say you deserve better than whatever an aging model like me can do for you. I'm two years from being obsolete."

Alenia had to bite one of her fingers to keep from making allusions to what she had planned. Dawson was far smarter than she let on and even a playful jab could make her suspicious. But she was definitely right that Alenia deserved the best. She was going to get the best.

She was going to get Dawson.

"I'm going to start dinner," the woman said, rolling her shoulders and heading for the kitchen. "I got more soy-chicken."

"So that's a definite no on the champagne then," Alenia asked as the detective walked by.

"I only go to one party a year," Dawson explained, "Which is where that champagne comes from. There won't be another for five months, so I don't think you'll be seeing it."

Alenia bit her finger again. We'll see about that, she thought. I'm here to stay, razorgirl.

"Don't you go to any other parties?" the elf questioned. In response Dawson spread her arms wide to refer to her apartment.

"You're looking at it," she said. "Here, the party never ends."

Alenia bit her lip to keep from laughing at Dawson's terrible joke. We'll fix that, too! she vowed. Spinning back around, she decided it was good the human was already getting used to cooking for her and now was a good time to get to work on the program she'd need to make her dreams come true. She grabbed the visor, jacked into her still-sparkling Gungir and set to work on the keys and squeeze-pads.

= = =

The daemon Alenia put together was an amalgam of more than one process that each on their own wouldn't have been useful for what she needed it for. The base was a thought pattern mapper used in medical machines that just analyzed activity in whatever regions of the brain were active and displayed them. It didn't do anything else but onto this she tacked a drone communication subroutine that would serve as the line of communication between the monitored brain and whatever was on the sending side, which in theory was expected to be a rigger.

If Dawson had a datajack somewhere on her body, that would have been it--Alenia could have plugged a cord into both of them and then gone to war against her tech's intrusion countermeasures, and if she beat them deliver her daemon into her head and wash down her dinner with the detective's dessert. When she considered that Alenia realized it was probably a good thing Dawson didn't have a datajack because if she did her tech would probably be state-of-the-art delta stuff not even on the market yet and it would have been like the elf trying to fist-fight the human, just in digital form.

But because she didn't, Alenia had to get more creative. She spent her puny 1200 nuyen on a piece of psychotropic black IC from a friend on the matrix (PLZ sell to me, gonna make it up to you later THIS IS AN INVESTMENT OK) and stuck that on top of the communication subroutine. Tinkering with the IC led to unlocking the script she was looking for: positive conditioning.

Corps and demiGODs used psychotropics to screw with deckers and throw them off their game during a shadowrun, and the quality of their tech determined how much of an effect they had. Even a basic datajack would have enough anti-interference wiring to limit the effects to a minute or less. But Dawson didn't have any tech--the positive conditioning would drip right into her virgin meat-brain as easily as if Alenia was drooling words into one of her ears, delivered to her temples by the neural interface cups on the Cyclops XS.

Granted, the effects would take a while to sink in and become permanent, during which time Dawson might notice something odd about her behavior if Alenia pushed her too far too soon... and there was a chance someone else might notice something different about her too.

Alenia knew she had to be subtle. Any number of things could go wrong; if she changed how Dawson dressed or spoke, that would be a red flag to others. There was even a chance that the detective could just wake up while Alenia was trying to attach the visor to her, and like Daggey had warned she might just break her in half in that case.

With some contemplation Alenia had to admit that might not be the case. Despite her stony exterior, Dawson truly had all her essence and the genuine care she radiated in certain moments was something Alenia wanted to bask in and get tons more of, soaking up her affection like a thirsty sponge. She would be angry and definitely kick her out, but her life wasn't in danger... So that meant she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, since without Dawson all Alenia had was nothing beyond what the gang could spare for her.

Her thin moral quandaries more or less resolved, Alenia set to writing the first lines of conditioning she would try to imprint on Dawson. A flurry of ideas fought for space in her head but eventually she settled on a few things that would help ease the detective into the new normal that was on the way.

It's okay if Alenia wants to be naked. Her body doesn't bother me and I even like to check her out, and let her see me doing it.

I should get Alenia anything she needs to help her with decking, or anything else. And I better get the good stuff! It could be me she saves with it.

It's fine if Alenia wants to sleep in my bed with me. I should let her cuddle up close and nuzzle with me so she sleeps more soundly.

Even these basic suggestions were enough to get Alenia panting and salivating at the thought of Dawson acting on them. She had to play it safe and act like all these things were normal, if she tweaked out and requested something wild Dawson would know immediately that something was wrong with her behavior.

The scent of hot synthetic meat made Alenia sniff loudly. Flipping up the visor she saw Dawson sitting down in the armchair across the table with a plate like the one she'd just set in front of the elf while she was authoring Dawson's subversion.

"You're drooling again," the human observed. "Did it smell that good while it was cooking?"

"Bluuhuhh," Alenia said. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and her eyes were bleary; the Cyclops XS didn't go easy on the senses and she guessed it had about 75% or so of the same data integrity as regular datajack. That would be more than enough to warp Dawson into her rubbing post for life.

Removing the visor and detaching her cable, Alenia turned her attention to the food Dawson had made. Soy-chicken, though fresher than what she'd had last night, along with something green and something yellow. None of it looked anything like the soy-cubes she usually ate but it smelled a hundred times better, so she opened her mouth and started inhaling it. When that wasn't enough to get it all the way in her mouth she used her hands.

Dawson watched her as she ate, more slowly and making far less of a mess. "Do you see that piece of hard plastic to the left of your plate, with the three points? It's called a fork, you should give it a try."

"Nuh," Alenia said dismissively with her mouth full, "Tastes better like this."

"I'm surprised you can taste it at all," came her retort.

In just a few minutes Alenia's plate was empty and her stomach was full. She sprawled out on the couch and groaned in delight, feeling better fed in the moment than she could ever remember.

"My plan," Dawson said, "Is going off without a hitch. Two more meals and you won't fit through the door."

Alenia stuck her tongue halfway out through her teeth and laughed around it. Soon I won't need to, she thought to herself. I'm here to stay, razorgirl!

= = =

Dawson spent some time communicating with someone from Lone Star and then let Alenia know that they hadn't sighted Pickers yet. The slug was deep in hiding after knocking over the lab and killing the accountant and likely wouldn't rear his head for at least a few more days. That was good news for Alenia--she and Dawson needed private time to get to know each other.

All her strenuous exercise made Dawson tired not too long into the evening and it wasn't long before she headed off for bed. Alenia nervously spent another hour tinkering with her daemon, which she cleverly (so she believed) called Impulse Control, making sure she hadn't gotten any spelling errors or bad values in the coding.

With all the lights in the apartment off, Alenia took the visor and crept up the stairs to where her future chow ticket was sleeping. Dawson didn't seem to snore and the serenity she showed lying on her back made the decker nervous.

She moved on all fours across the upper area and climbed onto the bed with all the elven grace she could muster, making barely any noise beyond the bouncing of the springs as she did so. Dawson didn't stir, which was a good sign. To make sure it wasn't a ploy, Alenia gently touched Dawson on the throat, which would be enough to warrant a response from anyone who was only lightly asleep. When she still didn't respond, Alenia leaned forward and gently kissed Dawson on the cheek noiselessly, hovering close to her for several seconds afterward.

No response was forthcoming. That running and lifting had tuckered her out and now she was easy prey. Alenia brought up the visor and spread it a little wider to accommodate the shape of Dawson's head, then more carefully than she'd ever done anything else in her life she affixed the circuit-cups to the woman's temples, right beside her eyes. At being activated the visor darkened and ran Impulse Control on 'user' mode, as she'd set it to before coming up.

Dawson shifted her head slightly and exhaled, but otherwise didn't move or respond. The visor's side-light blinked every few seconds to indicate that data was being loaded into the wearer's brain. Her suggestions were being fed to Dawson's sleeping mind and by morning would have started to take root. She was really doing it--it was working!!

It took all of Alenia's effort to still her breathing as she sat on the bed, keeping her right hand close to Dawson's head in case she started to wake up and the visor needed to be pulled off quickly. The elf's left hand was in the shorts she was wearing, rubbing insistently at her soaking cunt with four fingers, teetering on the edge of a screaming orgasm that would ruin everything. Just a few nights... Just a few nights of Impulse Control and then she and Dawson would be trading tongues between lips and legs alike. Alenia would be living the sweet life and no longer be a burden on her gang. Instead they'd come to her place to party and enjoy the perks of having friends in high places and Dawson would be too busy getting her jam hole eaten to notice things had changed for the better.

Just a few nights... Just a few nights...

Dawson didn't wake up in the night and laid there peacefully accepting Alenia's first wave of suggestions for close to 6 hours while Alenia herself sat there drooling and fingering herself, always close to climax but never slipping over the edge for fear of disturbing her new girlfriend. The constant masturbation eroded Alenia's already questionable discipline as well as her energy and when her vision started to blur she shakily removed the visor from Dawson's head and slipped off the bed.

Creeping back downstairs, Alenia felt her entire body tremble with every movement. Had she done that? Had it... had it worked? The thought gave her a rush, and a new fresh thrill in her sore, dripping gash.

Stretching out on the couch, Alenia pulled Dawson's shorts off of her and buried four fingers into herself up to the second knuckle. Her other hand went up the shirt on her chest and pulled at her nipples while she hissed rapidly through her teeth. She bucked, squirmed, threw her head back and curled her toes, felt her eyes rolling, her hair and her shaved side alike rubbing against the soft quality pillow from Dawson's bed.

This would be the only night she had to sleep on the couch. Tomorrow night she'd be back in bed... beside Dawson.

Her cunt exploded and her breath came out in a strangled shudder; her eyes were watering and her legs were quivering, on the verge of cramping. Her sodden hand came up to her face and she stuffed her fingers in her mouth, silencing her moans and at the same time giving her hungry tongue something to occupy itself while she thought of Dawson, of her strong arms enfolding her body and... and handling her...

Alenia fell asleep in that position, splayed out half-naked on the touch, groin pointed towards the window and three fingers in her mouth, leaving herself in such a state that a skilled detective would have no problem figuring out what she was doing before she fell asleep, with the visor on the floor in front of the couch and the deck lying on the table.

= = =

Alenia stirred awake to the sound of something frying. The scent of food floated in the air and she realized she'd never really smelled food until she'd been in Dawson's apartment, which unlike the street and the run-down crash pads the Ancients squatted in was clean and well-ventilated, air always in motion and thus scents reaching across open spaces easily.

Her fingers had slipped out of her mouth in her sleep to land on her neck, probably because she'd drooled around them to the point of no resistance. Her body below the chin had been covered with the plain blanket Dawson had given her to sleep on the couch--the detective must have tucked her in shortly after waking up. Was it because she was still put off by Alenia's nudity? Or was it just her caring behavior making sure she slept comfortably? The growling of her stomach and the lingering ache between her legs motivated her to find out for certain.

Wriggling her way free of the cover Alenia stood up and stretched her back and arms, feeling a few pops and clicks in her body. Fucking couch! But it was fine; if her daemon had worked, she'd never have to sleep on it again. She looked down at herself, noting that she was still wearing Dawson's shirt from the previous day but not the shorts. That was perfect for testing the new temperature of the water with Dawson...

Though it went against her nature when she wasn't drunk Alenia put on as much confidence as she could muster and strolled towards the kitchen. Dawson noticed her approach and looked her way once, eyes passing over the fullness of Alenia's body once--including her bare legs and visible mound--and then, to the sudden hammering of Alenia's heart, went back to cooking entirely unbothered.

"Good morning," the detective offered. "You're up a little earlier than I expected. I was getting accustomed to waking you up by waving things under your nose."

Alenia sucked in a quick breath to stop her salivating, the foremost thought in her mind being that's not all you're going to get used to razorgirl but cleared her throat with a cough and tried her hardest to act natural. None of this would work if Alenia went crazy too soon.

"What can I say," she said cautiously, "Maybe you're having a good effect on me, yeah?" It was followed by a smile she realized after adopting it looked unbelievably nervous. Yet Dawson seemed to find it charming since she smiled back in a way that gave Alenia those butterflies in her belly again.

"Sure I am," Dawson said. "Food'll be ready in a moment. I hope you like soy-ham omelettes."

A sudden need to be helpful overtook Alenia and she reached out towards one of the empty plates with a fist still clumsy from sleep. "Is there anything I can do to--" was as far as she got before her awkward reach knocked the plate off the counter.

With one hand still on a spatula, Dawson leaned to her right and caught the plate by the edge before it could reach the ground. The fork on top of it slid over her fingers and clattered to the kitchen floor below.

"Drek!" Alenia blurted. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..." She did her best to mitigate her shame by going around the counter and bending forward to retrieve the fork while Dawson set the plate back in place.

When she stood back up and turned around, she noticed Dawson's eyes lingering in the region of her legs. She'd taken the opportunity to inspect Alenia's ass while the elf was bent over and everything was on display. The slow rise of her grey gaze back to meeting Alenia's melon-green eyes conveyed that she'd spent the whole time looking and she didn't mind if Alenia knew it.

Her heart hammered in her chest almost audibly as Dawson reached out and took the fork from her hand. After setting it back on the plate she reached up and cupped the side of Alenia's face, making her thighs squeeze together suddenly.

"It's alright," Dawson said softly, "I've got it under control. Go sit down, I'll bring you some soykaf in a minute."

"Okay," Alenia replied breathily. Dawson had touched her, right on the face. That was just one step below Dawson putting her arm inside of her, or so Alenia's suddenly slickening cunt was convinced.

She half-walked, half-waddled back to the couch and sat down in the same mess she'd fallen asleep in last night. The couch smelled like her now, as did the clothes she'd looted... that meant a change of bedding and a change of outfits was in order.

Dawson set down a cup of soykaf in front of her and without thinking Alenia seized it and started slurping from the cup. Just as her heart rate was beginning to calm down, Dawson set her palm on top of Alenia's head and spoke. "You're welcome." The words should have made Alenia feel vile but her fond tone and the slight curl at the corners of her mouth twisted something in the elf's belly, not mere butterflies but the wrenching of a gear that previously hadn't been engaged.

She likes this! She likes looking after me! She needs someone to take care of just as much as I need someone to take care of me!

What few shards of guilt had been lingering in Alenia's mind eroded in a new wave of wetness between her thighs. Don't worry, razorgirl, you're gonna be stuck with me forever! This thought kept her even warmer than the soykaf she was gulping down, which she imagined was Dawson's cunt--soon to be her personal pacifier and bi-hourly snack.

Her indulgent fantasy was interrupted by the appearance of real food in front of her, the presence of which made her discard her empty cup and begin vacuuming it into her face. She was halfway done before Dawson even sat down on the other side of the table.

"One more meal to go," the detective said darkly. Alenia snorted so hard a section of egg escaped out of her nose. At that, Dawson's feigned insidiousness departed and she laughed too.

The commpad beside Dawson's plate beeped and she set her fork down to interact with it. One of her thin black eyebrows went up in response to what she was reading.

"Good news?" Alenia asked through a mouthful of synthetic ham. Her idea of good news would be to hear that Aztechnology had gone bankrupt and ceased to exist, and took Japan with it.

"Sokoth is asking me if I think Pickers has the orichalcum from Applied Reactions. It only took him a night to connect the two things, which is impressive. Normally I solve the case before he even bothers to start putting the pieces together. Someone high-up must be pressuring him to resolve this quickly."

Alenia swallowed loudly and rubbed her chin with one palm. "What are you gonna tell him?"

Tapping the top of the commpad for a moment in thought, Dawson inclined her head and began typing. "I'm going to tell him I think Pickers was the one who robbed the lab and possibly killed the accountant, but I'm not going to mention the masked rep. This will let Sokoth tell his boss that he has a suspect in mind for the robbery and for the murder, but it won't attract any attention from the powers that be. If I tell him everything I know now, someone will shut down the entire investigation to avoid litigation with Aztechnology. It is in fact cheaper to let someone die and have it go unpunished than risk a visible lawsuit for slander."