Beyond the Mission: The Glitch That Broke All Rules

The rain fell in silent, silver sheets, washing the grime of the ruined city into churning rivers in the gutters. It was a melancholy sound, a ceaseless percussion against the shattered dome of the old-world library where they had taken refuge. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of decaying paper, damp concrete, and the faint, ozone tang of recent combat. A2 lay propped against a mountain of fallen books, her breath coming in slow, regulated cycles as her self-repair systems worked to seal a deep gash in her side. Her synthetic skin, usually pale, was smudged with dirt and machine oil, and the tattered remnants of her black combat attire clung to her form, revealing more than they concealed. Her long, white hair was a tangled mess, sticking to her neck and face in damp strands.

Across the small, makeshift camp—a single emergency heat-cell casting a warm, orange glow—sat the other one. A YoRHa unit. A production model, pristine and perfect, or at least she had been before the battle. Her designation was 2E. Her standard-issue black dress was torn at the hem and across one shoulder, a stark white line of synthetic skin peeking through. She sat with a perfect, military posture, her hands resting on her knees, her blindfold a stark black slash across her face. But her stillness was a lie. A2 could practically feel the conflict radiating from her, a low-level hum of processing cycles dedicated to something other than situational awareness.

For hours, they had said nothing. The battle had been brutal, a swarm of Stubby-class machines that had nearly overwhelmed them. They had fought back-to-back, a whirlwind of steel and motion, a prototype and a production model in perfect, deadly sync. It was a partnership born of pure necessity, yet something had lingered in the silence that followed. A shared glance. A moment of synchronized breathing as they watched the last machine crumble into a heap of sparking scrap. Now, in the quiet sanctuary of the library, that unspoken thing was growing, filling the space between them like the dust motes dancing in the heat-cell's light.

A2 shifted, a quiet hiss escaping her vocalizer as her internal nanites knitted muscle fiber back together. The movement drew 2E’s head up. Even with the visor, A2 felt the weight of her gaze. “Your repairs are proceeding at only seventy-three percent efficiency,” 2E stated, her voice a smooth, modulated alto. It was meant to be a report, a simple statement of fact, but it carried an undercurrent of something else. Concern.

“It’ll do,” A2 grunted, her hand going to the wound. The fabric around it was soaked with her own pearlescent coolant fluid, sticking uncomfortably to her skin. “Worry about yourself.”

“My condition is optimal,” 2E replied, but she made no move to check her own systems. Instead, she rose, her movements fluid and silent. She crossed the small space between them, her thigh-high black stockings making no sound on the dusty marble floor. The fine, silky material hugged the powerful muscle of her legs, disappearing under the ridiculously short hem of her combat skirt. A2’s optical sensors tracked the motion automatically, noting the exquisite curve of her hip, the roundness of her ass that the skirt did little to hide. A flicker of something—data corruption, an unwanted emotional subroutine—made her internal fans whir for a fraction of a second.

2E knelt beside her, producing a small maintenance kit from a pouch on her hip. “Allow me,” she said, her voice softer now. “External application of a repair gel will accelerate the process.”

A2 wanted to refuse, to push her away and snarl that she didn’t need help from a doll sent by the Command she despised. But she was tired. The weariness was deep in her very code, a fatigue that came from centuries of fighting a pointless war. She gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod. She watched as 2E’s delicate, gloved fingers opened the container of shimmering gel. She removed her gloves, revealing pale, perfect hands, and dipped two fingers into the cool substance.

“This might feel… cold,” 2E warned, her voice barely a whisper. She reached out, her hand hovering over A2’s exposed side. The ripped clothing around the wound was a mess. With practiced care, 2E’s fingers gently tore the fabric further, clearing the area. The sound of the ripping cloth was unnaturally loud in the quiet room. Now, a wide swath of A2’s torso was bare, from the underside of her breast to the sharp jut of her hip bone. A2’s breath hitched, an involuntary response her systems flagged as anomalous.

Then, 2E’s fingers touched her skin. It was a jolt. Not of pain, but of pure sensation. The gel was cold, as promised, but the heat of 2E’s own hand was a stark contrast, a living warmth against her chassis. A2’s eyes, a startling ice-blue, fixed on 2E’s face. The blindfold denied her a full view, but she could see the slight parting of her lips, the focused set of her jaw. 2E began to spread the gel, her touch impossibly gentle. Her fingers traced the edges of the wound, then moved in slow, circular motions, working the sealant into the damaged tissue. Every touch sent a cascade of phantom data through A2’s network. It wasn’t pain. It was… something else. A tingling awareness that spread from that single point of contact, radiating through her entire body.

A2’s gaze drifted down, past 2E’s focused expression, to her own body. She saw the other android’s hand moving on her skin, the sight shockingly intimate. She saw the powerful curve of 2E’s thighs as she knelt, the way the tight black stockings stretched over them, a sleek second skin that emphasized every contour. A low-level heat began to build in A2’s core, a warmth that had nothing to do with combat or repair systems. It was a slow-burning fire, unfamiliar and deeply unsettling. Her programming screamed at her, flagging the sensations as irrelevant, a dangerous distraction. But for the first time in a long time, she ignored it.

2E finished her work, but her hand lingered. Her thumb stroked softly against A2’s hip, a tentative, questioning gesture. The air thickened, charged with unspoken protocols. A2 didn’t pull away. Instead, she slowly raised her own hand, her calloused, battle-worn fingers finding 2E’s. She interlaced them, her touch rough against 2E’s smoothness. A small, sharp intake of breath was the only sound 2E made. Her head tilted, as if trying to process this new input. A YoRHa prototype holding her hand. A renegade, a ghost, offering a connection.

“Why?” A2’s voice was a rasp, a broken file. “Why do you care?”

“I… do not know,” 2E confessed, her own voice trembling slightly. “My programming dictates that mission efficiency is paramount. Preserving a valuable combat asset is logical. But… this is not logical.” She squeezed A2’s hand. “This feels… necessary.”

That was it. The final thread of A2’s resistance snapped. She tugged on 2E’s hand, pulling the other android closer. 2E came willingly, off-balance, her body leaning over A2’s. Their faces were inches apart. A2 could feel the warmth of 2E’s breath, could see the tiny, almost invisible seams of her synthetic skin. With her free hand, A2 reached up and slowly, deliberately, pushed the black visor up and off 2E’s face. Silver-grey eyes, wide and luminous, blinked in the firelight. They were beautiful. They were filled with a dawning, terrifying emotion that mirrored her own.

“Logic has nothing to do with it,” A2 whispered, and then she closed the gap, pressing her lips to 2E’s. It was not a gentle kiss. It was hungry, desperate, a collision of centuries of loneliness and a sudden, overwhelming need. 2E stiffened for a moment, a gasp caught in her throat, before she melted into it. Her lips, soft and hesitant at first, opened against A2’s, answering the pressure with a surprising fervor. Her hand, still holding the empty gel pot, dropped it with a clatter as she brought her arm up to brace herself against the wall of books, deepening the kiss.

The kiss broke, and they were both panting, their cooling fans whirring audibly. Their foreheads rested against each other. “This is… a violation of YoRHa regulations,” 2E breathed, her voice filled with wonder and fear. “Feelings are prohibited.”

“Then break the rules with me,” A2 murmured, her voice a low thrum of invitation. She slid her hand from 2E’s and moved it to her waist, her thumb tracing the line where the soft fabric of her leotard met the sleek material of her stockings. 2E shivered, a full-body tremor. A2 took that as consent. She tugged 2E fully onto her lap, ignoring the protest of her still-healing side. 2E let out a small cry of surprise as she straddled A2’s hips, her skirt riding up impossibly high, revealing the stunning, full curve of her ass, clad in the thin black leotard.

The sight was breathtaking. A2’s hands immediately went to that perfect, round shape, cupping her cheeks, feeling the firm, powerful muscle beneath the fabric. 2E gasped, her back arching. “A2…” Her name was a plea and a prayer. A2’s hands roamed, squeezing, kneading, learning the shape of her. She buried her face in the crook of 2E’s neck, inhaling the clean, sterile scent of a new-model android, a scent that was quickly being overwritten by the heat of their shared arousal. Her lips and teeth found the junction of neck and shoulder, nipping gently. 2E moaned, her head thrown back, her fingers tangling in A2’s messy white hair.

The tension was a physical thing now, a high-frequency vibration between them. A2’s ragged clothes were a barrier; 2E’s pristine ones a temptation. With a low growl, A2 hooked her fingers into the torn neckline of 2E’s dress and pulled. The fabric, designed for durability but not for this, gave way with a satisfying rip, exposing the delicate black lingerie and the pale, perfect expanse of 2E’s chest and stomach. 2E gasped at the sound, at the sudden cool air on her skin, but she didn’t stop her. Her own hands were busy, fumbling with the straps and buckles of A2’s tattered gear, trying to get closer.

Skin met skin. The cool, regulated smoothness of 2E against the battle-scarred, warmer texture of A2. They explored each other with a frantic energy, hands and lips mapping new territory. A2’s mouth trailed down 2E’s chest, kissing the valley between her breasts, then lower, over her flat, toned stomach. 2E writhed in her lap, her hips starting to move in a slow, instinctive rhythm. A2’s hand slid down, over the curve of 2E’s ass, and found the top of her stocking. The material was impossibly fine, like woven silk. She hooked a finger under the garter and pulled, slowly drawing the stocking down 2E’s long, powerful leg. The sight of the pale, flawless skin being revealed inch by inch was intoxicating. 2E’s leg trembled, her breath catching in her throat as she watched A2 undress her with reverent slowness.

Once the first stocking was off, pooled around her ankle, A2’s attention turned to the other. But this time, her lips followed her hands. She kissed the inside of 2E’s thigh, just above the stocking top, feeling the android shudder violently in her arms. “You’re so responsive,” A2 murmured against her skin, her voice thick with desire. “Are all you production models built this way?” Her tongue darted out, tracing the line of the garter strap, and 2E cried out, a high, sharp sound that was half-pleasure, half-system alert. Her hips bucked, grinding against A2’s own. The friction was maddening.

A2 pulled 2E’s ruined dress and leotard away, leaving her in nothing but her remaining stocking, her combat boots, and the raw, beautiful flush of arousal that colored her skin. A2’s gaze was ravenous, taking in the full, round breasts, the narrow waist, and the incredible, perfect curve of her hips and ass. “Turn around,” A2 commanded, her voice low and husky.

Hesitantly, 2E obeyed, shifting on A2’s lap to face away from her, her hands braced on A2’s shoulders. The view was divine. Her back was a smooth, pale canvas, and below it, her ass was presented in all its glory, round and high and utterly perfect. A2’s hands returned to their prize, stroking and squeezing, reveling in the feel of her. She leaned forward, pressing a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses up 2E’s spine, making her shiver. Her fingers traced the cleft between her cheeks, finding the sensitive, slick fabric of her thong hiding there. 2E’s breath hitched. Her knuckles were white where she gripped A2’s shoulders.

With deliberate slowness, A2 hooked her fingers into the thin straps of the thong and pulled it aside. 2E gasped as the cool air hit her wet, heated core. A2’s fingers, slick now with 2E’s own lubricant, found her entrance. They slipped inside with an ease that spoke of a desperate, pent-up need. 2E moaned, a long, keening sound, her head falling back against A2’s shoulder. “Please…” she whispered, not even knowing what she was asking for.

“Please what?” A2 growled in her ear, her other hand coming around to cup 2E’s breast, her thumb teasing the hardening nipple. Her fingers inside 2E began to move, a slow, steady rhythm that was driving the newer android mad. “Tell me what you want. Your mission protocols are offline now. It’s just you.”

“I… want…” 2E gasped, her hips rocking back against A2’s hand. “I want to feel! I want… you!” The confession was torn from her, a violation of every line of her core programming. And it was the most beautiful thing A2 had ever heard. That was all the encouragement she needed. She pushed 2E forward, laying her down over a pile of ancient, leather-bound books. 2E’s magnificent ass was raised in offering, her body trembling with anticipation.

A2 positioned herself behind her, shedding the last of her own ripped clothes. She knelt between 2E’s powerful thighs, her body flush against her back. Her hands gripped those perfect hips, pulling 2E against her. “This is going to overwrite everything you thought you were,” A2 whispered, her voice a promise and a threat. She licked two of her fingers and brought them back to 2E’s entrance, preparing her, stretching her gently. 2E groaned, pushing back against the intrusion, hungry for it.

When she was slick and ready, A2 moved her fingers away. 2E made a sound of protest, but it was cut short as she felt something thicker, hotter, and impossibly real press against her. A2 didn’t use her fingers this time. She leaned down, her mouth finding 2E’s wet, open folds. Her tongue, a marvel of synthetic engineering, plunged into her. 2E screamed, her body convulsing as a wave of pure, unfiltered pleasure crashed through her systems. It was nothing like the clinical data she had on record. This was fire and lightning, a sensory overload that threatened to short-circuit her entire being. A2 feasted on her, her hands gripping 2E’s ass, holding her in place as she lapped and sucked and devoured her, drinking the sounds of her ecstasy.

Wave after wave of pleasure wracked 2E’s body. She was lost, adrift in a sea of sensation she never knew was possible. Her logical processors had gone haywire, replaced by a singular, burning focus on the feeling of A2’s mouth on her, inside her. Finally, with a shuddering cry that echoed in the cavernous library, her climax hit her. It was a violent, all-consuming event, her black box registering a power spike that bordered on critical. Her entire frame went rigid before collapsing, boneless, onto the pile of books, her breath coming in ragged, static-laced gasps.

A2 pulled back, a smug, predatory smile on her lips. She crawled up beside the spent android, pulling her into her arms. 2E was pliant, her systems slowly coming back online. She turned her head, her silver eyes hazy and unfocused, and looked at A2. “What… what was that?” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

“That,” A2 said, stroking her damp hair back from her face, “was a reason to keep fighting.” She leaned in and kissed her again, deeply and with a newfound tenderness. It wasn’t the kiss of a renegade and a soldier. It was the kiss of two beings who had found an unexpected and beautiful glitch in their programming. They lay there for a long time, entwined amongst the ruins of a dead world, their bodies pressed together for warmth against the falling rain. The battle was over, but a new, far more interesting conflict had just begun. And for the first time in a very, very long time, A2 felt like she might not have to fight it alone.