Chapter 2: Heir Tech and a Thrown Console
The workstation materialized three days ago.
Bio had pulled it from the static with the same careful precision they applied to everything—hands moving in slow, deliberate arcs through the gray as if conducting an invisible orchestra. The void had resisted at first, pressing back with its wet-wool weight, but Bio had persisted. They always persisted. The result was a sleek altar of pale blue light and yellow holograms, curved panels humming with electric potential, sterile surfaces reflecting nothing because there was nothing to reflect.
Now they sat before it, spine straight, ponytail draped over one shoulder like a petrified waterfall, fingers dancing across floating schematics. The alien species taking shape in the holographic display was elegant. Too elegant, perhaps. Six articulated limbs, each ending in a tapered point designed for maximum dexterity. A carapace that shifted color based on atmospheric pressure. Eyes—seven of them, arranged in a spiral—that could perceive wavelengths beyond the visible spectrum.
Bio adjusted a parameter. The seventh eye blinked out of existence and reappeared half a millimeter to the left.
They frowned.
"Are you fucking kidding me."
The voice came from directly behind them, close enough that Bio could feel the displacement of air, the heat of another body. They did not turn. Their fingers continued their work, adjusting, refining, perfecting.
Nomer's chin landed on Bio's shoulder with a thud that was more aggressive than affectionate. Their pigtails brushed against Bio's cheek, and Bio's jaw tightened at the intrusion. Germs. Contamination. The eternal war against the unclean.
"You've been at this for three days," Nomer said, their voice a sing-song whine. "Three days, Bio. I counted. I counted because there is literally nothing else to do in this gray hellscape except watch you ignore me."
Bio did not respond. Could not respond. Their silence was not a weapon, not a choice. It simply was.
"A sixth limb," Nomer continued, reading the schematics. "You gave it a sixth limb. But the third one—" They reached past Bio's face, pointing with a finger that came dangerously close to the holographic display. "—the third one bends the wrong way. Look. See? The joint articulates at forty-seven degrees when it should be forty-three."
Bio's hands froze.
They stared at the schematic. At the third limb. At the joint.
Nomer was right.
"I'm always right," Nomer said, as if reading their thoughts. They pulled back, and Bio heard them flop onto the console beside the display—sprawling, disrespectful, their body draped across equipment that had taken Bio hours to calibrate. "That's the problem with you perfectionists. You get so lost in the details you miss the obvious shit."
Bio's fingers twitched. They wanted to shove Nomer off. They wanted to scrub the console with antiseptic that didn't exist. They wanted to scream, but screaming required a voice, and that was another thing the void had stolen.
Instead, they corrected the joint. Forty-three degrees. The limb moved with fluid grace, and something in Bio's chest unclenched.
"There," Nomer said, their voice shifting from teasing to something softer, something almost tender. "See? Was that so hard?"
Bio ignored them. They moved to the next parameter—respiratory efficiency, atmospheric tolerance, reproductive—
Nomer's hand shot out and grabbed Bio's wrist.
The touch was electric, shocking in its intimacy. Bio's skin crawled and sang simultaneously, revulsion and something else, something they refused to name, warring in their nervous system.
"Stop," Nomer said.
Bio did not stop. They tried to pull their wrist free, but Nomer's grip tightened.
"I said stop."
The command hung in the air between them, heavy with something that was not quite anger and not quite desperation. Nomer's eyes—green and purple, clashing and beautiful and wrong—locked onto Bio's.
"You're building a species," Nomer said slowly. "A whole species. Respiratory systems and reproductive organs and whatever the fuck else. You're creating life."
Bio stared at them.
"But you won't look at me."
The words landed like stones in still water. Ripples spread outward, disturbing the careful stillness Bio had constructed around themselves.
Nomer's grip on Bio's wrist tightened until it almost hurt. "Three days, Bio. Three days of watching you pour yourself into a hologram while I sat here. While I talked. While I touched myself in the corner hoping you'd notice—"
Bio's eyes widened.
"—and you didn't. You didn't notice. You didn't care. You just kept adjusting your little alien's fucking knee joints."
The console beeped, a soft alarm indicating an unsaved parameter. Neither of them moved.
"You want to know what I think?" Nomer's voice dropped, low and dangerous. "I think you're a coward."
Bio's free hand curled into a fist.
"I think you're so terrified of the mess of actual connection that you'd rather build a world full of imaginary creatures who can't reject you. Can't touch you. Can't—" Nomer's voice cracked, just slightly, a hairline fracture in their armor of bravado. "—can't love you."
The word hung there. Love. It echoed in the void, bouncing off nothing, returning distorted.
Bio's throat worked. They wanted to speak. They wanted to scream. They wanted to tell Nomer that they weren't a coward, that they weren't afraid, that they simply preferred order to chaos, cleanliness to filth, silence to the endless cacophony of Nomer's demands.
But they couldn't.
So they did the only thing they could.
They looked away.
Nomer's laugh was sharp and broken. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
They released Bio's wrist and slid off the console. Their bare feet made no sound on the nonexistent ground, but Bio felt the absence of their touch like a wound.
"Fine," Nomer said, and their voice was different now—harder, colder, stripped of the teasing lilt that usually colored their words. "You want to build a world? Build it. But I'm done waiting."
They raised their hand.
The void trembled.
Bio's head snapped up, eyes wide, as the gray static began to swirl around Nomer's outstretched palm. It moved like liquid, like smoke, like something alive and hungry. The hum that was always present in the void spiked, becoming a roar, a scream, a song.
"What are you doing?" Bio's hands moved, signing frantically, but Nomer wasn't looking at them.
"I'm done playing in your sandbox," Nomer said. "If you won't build a world with me—"
The static coalesced.
"—then I'll build one myself."
The workstation exploded.
Not literally—there was no fire, no shrapnel, no sound of destruction. But the pale blue light and yellow holograms scattered like startled birds, dissolving into the gray, and Bio was thrown backward by a wave of force that had no source and no direction.
They hit the ground—there was always a ground, even when there wasn't—and rolled, ponytail tangling around their neck, breath knocked from lungs that didn't technically need to breathe.
When they looked up, the void had changed.
In the space where the workstation had been, something new was taking shape. It rose from the static like a monolith, black and massive and impossible. A bed. A bed the size of a small house, with sheets that shimmered like oil on water and pillows that seemed to swallow light.
Bio stared.
Nomer stood at the foot of it, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Impressive, right?" Their voice was casual, but their eyes were wild. "I've been practicing. Turns out you can build whatever you want in the void if you want it badly enough."
Bio scrambled to their feet, backing away. Their hands moved in sharp, angry signs. What the fuck is wrong with you?
Nomer laughed. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?"
They advanced, and Bio retreated, and the bed loomed behind them like a predator waiting to strike.
"You sit here for three days building fake aliens while I—" Nomer's voice broke again, and this time they didn't bother to hide it. "—while I fucking ached for you, Bio. While I touched myself and whispered your name and pretended you could hear me."
Bio's back hit something solid.
The bed.
They had nowhere left to go.
Nomer stopped inches away, close enough that Bio could see the tears tracking down their cheeks, could smell the salt and something else, something musky and warm and intimate.
"I'm tired of pretending," Nomer whispered. "I'm tired of waiting for you to acknowledge that I exist. That we exist. That this—" They gestured at the gray, at the bed, at the space between their bodies. "—is all we have."
Bio's heart hammered against their ribs. Their hands trembled at their sides.
"So here's what's going to happen," Nomer said, and their voice was steady now, resolved. "You're going to stop running. You're going to stop hiding behind your silence and your germs and your perfect little holograms. And you're going to feel something."
They reached out.
Bio flinched, but Nomer didn't touch their face. Instead, their fingers closed around the collar of Bio's shirt—a garment that existed only because Bio willed it to, simple and clean and covering—and pulled.
Bio stumbled forward, off balance, and then they were falling.
The bed caught them.
The sheets were cool and impossibly soft, swallowing Bio's body like a living thing. They tried to scramble up, but Nomer was already there, climbing over them, straddling their hips with a weight that was both foreign and inevitable.
"Get off," Bio signed frantically, but Nomer caught their wrists and pinned them to the mattress.
"No."
Bio struggled. They twisted and bucked and tried to throw Nomer off, but Nomer was stronger than they looked, and the bed was soft and deep, and something in Bio's body was responding in ways they didn't understand.
"Stop fighting," Nomer breathed, their face inches from Bio's. "Just stop. For once in your miserable existence, stop trying to control everything."
Bio went still.
Not because they wanted to. Not because they were surrendering. But because Nomer's eyes—those impossible, clashing eyes—were full of something that looked nothing like malice and everything like pain.
"You think I don't know?" Nomer whispered. "You think I don't see how you look at me when you think I'm not watching? How you flinch when I touch you, but you never actually pull away?"
Bio's breath caught.
"You're terrified," Nomer continued, their voice soft and cruel and achingly tender. "You're terrified of wanting me. Of needing me. Of admitting that the only thing in this entire void that makes you feel anything is the one thing you can't control."
They released Bio's wrists.
Bio didn't move.
"I'm going to kiss you now," Nomer said. "And you're going to let me. And if you really, truly want me to stop—" They paused. "—then sign it. Tell me no. And I'll stop."
Bio's hands lay limp at their sides.
The silence stretched.
Nomer smiled—that same soft, dangerous smile from before, the one that looked almost like love—and lowered their head.
The kiss was not gentle.
Nomer's mouth crashed against Bio's like a wave against a shore, hungry and demanding and full of teeth. They bit Bio's lower lip, hard enough to hurt, and when Bio gasped, Nomer's tongue slid inside.
Bio's body jerked. Their hands flew up—to push Nomer away or pull them closer, they didn't know—but Nomer caught them again, lacing their fingers together and pressing Bio's hands into the mattress.
"Fuck," Nomer murmured against Bio's mouth. "You taste like nothing. Like clean air and empty space. It's horrible."
They kissed Bio again, deeper this time, and Bio felt something crack open in their chest, something they had been holding shut for so long they had forgotten it existed.
"You need to taste like something," Nomer said, pulling back just enough to speak. Their lips were wet, swollen. "You need to taste like me."
They released Bio's hands and sat up, still straddling Bio's hips, and reached for the hem of Bio's shirt.
Bio caught their wrist.
Nomer raised an eyebrow.
Bio's fingers trembled. Their eyes—blue and yellow, tired and anxious—searched Nomer's face for something, anything. A reason to stop. A reason to continue.
They found neither.
They let go.
Nomer's grin was feral. "Good choice."
They yanked Bio's shirt up and over their head, tossing it into the gray where it dissolved into static. Bio's body was exposed—slightly chubby, blocky, built like something designed for endurance rather than beauty. Their skin was pale and flawless, and they resisted the urge to cover themselves, to hide, to disappear.
Nomer looked at them like they were a meal.
"Finally," Nomer breathed. "Finally, I get to see you."
Their hands moved across Bio's chest, palms flat, fingers spread. The touch was warm—warmer than anything in the void had any right to be—and Bio's breath hitched.
"You're beautiful," Nomer said, and for once there was no teasing in their voice. "You're so fucking beautiful and you don't even know it."
Bio's eyes burned. They blinked rapidly, refusing to cry, refusing to give Nomer that satisfaction.
Nomer leaned down and kissed their collarbone. Then their sternum. Then the soft curve of their stomach, tongue dipping into the shallow depression of their navel.
Bio shuddered.
"Does that feel good?" Nomer murmured against their skin. "Do you like being touched?"
Bio didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
But their hips bucked, just slightly, and Nomer laughed.
"I'll take that as a yes."
They moved lower. Their fingers found the waistband of Bio's pants—simple black fabric that existed only because Bio willed it—and tugged.
Bio's hands shot down, grabbing Nomer's wrists.
Nomer looked up. Their eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "Let me," they said. "Let me see all of you."
Bio's grip tightened.
"Please."
The word was small and broken and nothing like the Nomer who had kicked their workstation aside. It was raw and honest and desperate.
Bio's hands fell away.
Nomer pulled their pants down, slow and deliberate, and Bio's body was bare beneath them. Every inch exposed. Every flaw visible.
Nomer sat back, drinking them in.
"Fuck," they whispered. "Fuck, Bio."
Bio turned their head away, face burning. They wanted to disappear. They wanted to scrub themselves clean. They wanted to crawl out of their own skin and hide in the static where Nomer couldn't see them.
But Nomer's hands were on their thighs, gentle now, coaxing.
"Hey," Nomer said. "Look at me."
Bio didn't.
"Look at me."
Slowly, reluctantly, Bio turned their head.
Nomer's expression was soft. Soft in a way Bio had never seen before, soft in a way that made their chest ache.
"You're perfect," Nomer said. "Every single inch of you. Perfect."
Then they lowered their head and took Bio in their mouth.
Bio's back arched off the bed.
A sound—a broken, gasping noise—tore from their throat, a sound they hadn't known they could make. Nomer's mouth was hot and wet and skilled, tongue swirling around the head of Bio's cock before sliding down the shaft.
"Fuck," Nomer pulled off just long enough to say. "You're so hard for me. So fucking hard."
They took Bio deeper, throat working, and Bio's hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white.
It had been so long. So long since anyone had touched them. So long since they had let anyone close. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure and panic warring in their chest, and Bio's hips bucked involuntarily, driving themselves deeper into Nomer's throat.
Nomer moaned around them, the vibration sending sparks up Bio's spine.
They pulled off, gasping, a string of saliva connecting their lips to Bio's cock. "You like that? You like fucking my throat?"
Bio couldn't answer. Couldn't do anything but lie there, trembling, as Nomer licked a stripe up their shaft.
"I bet you do. I bet you've been dreaming about this. Lying in your little corner of the void, pretending you're too good for me, too clean—" They punctuated each word with a kiss to Bio's tip. "—too pure to want something as filthy as me."
Bio's hands moved, signing frantically. Stop talking.
Nomer laughed. "Why? Does it make you uncomfortable? Does it make you feel something?"
Just—
"Just what?"
Bio's hands fell still.
Nomer's grin was sharp. "That's what I thought."
They crawled up Bio's body, settling over them like a second skin. Their clothes—simple black fabric, just like Bio's—had disappeared at some point, and their skin pressed against Bio's, warm and real and overwhelming.
"I'm going to fuck you now," Nomer said. It wasn't a question. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't think. Until you can't breathe. Until the only thing in your head is my name."
Bio's eyes widened.
Nomer reached down between them, fingers finding Bio's entrance. They circled it slowly, teasing, and Bio's breath caught.
"Have you done this before?" Nomer asked.
Bio shook their head.
"Good." Nomer's voice was dark with satisfaction. "I want to be the first. The only."
They pressed a finger inside.
Bio gasped, body tensing.
"Shh," Nomer murmured, kissing their jaw. "Relax. I've got you."
They worked their finger in slowly, gently, stretching Bio open with a patience that seemed impossible. One finger became two, then three, and Bio's body slowly unclenched, accepting, adjusting.
"Good," Nomer breathed. "So good. You're doing so good."
Bio's hands clutched at Nomer's shoulders, nails digging in.
"Ready?" Nomer asked.
Bio nodded, a tiny, desperate movement.
Nomer withdrew their fingers and positioned themselves at Bio's entrance. The head of their cock—slimmer than Bio's, but no less intimidating—pressed against the tight ring of muscle.
"Look at me," Nomer said.
Bio's eyes met theirs.
"Don't look away."
And then they pushed inside.
Bio's world went white.
The stretch was immense, overwhelming, pleasure and pain tangled together until they couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Nomer was inside them, filling them, claiming them, and Bio's mouth opened in a silent scream.
"Fuck," Nomer groaned. "Fuck, you're tight. So fucking tight."
They didn't move. They stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting Bio adjust, letting Bio breathe.
"Okay?" Nomer asked, and their voice was rough, strained.
Bio nodded, tears streaming down their cheeks.
Nomer began to move.
The first thrust was slow, deep, dragging a broken moan from Bio's throat. The second was harder, faster, and Bio's hands flew up to grip Nomer's back, nails raking down their spine.
"Yeah," Nomer growled. "That's it. Let me hear you."
But Bio couldn't make noise. Couldn't speak. Could only gasp and tremble and feel as Nomer fucked into them, over and over, each thrust driving deeper, harder, faster.
"You feel that?" Nomer panted. "You feel how good this is? How right?"
Bio's legs wrapped around Nomer's waist, pulling them closer, deeper.
"I've wanted this for so long," Nomer said, their words coming in broken gasps. "So fucking long. Every time you ignored me. Every time you looked away. I wanted to pin you down and make you feel."
They angled their hips, and the next thrust hit something inside Bio that made them see stars.
"Fuck," Nomer laughed, breathless. "Found it."
They hit that spot again. And again. And again.
Bio's body was no longer their own. It belonged to the pleasure, to the rhythm, to Nomer. They were nothing but sensation, nothing but need, nothing but the desperate, aching want that had been buried so deep inside them they had forgotten it existed.
"I'm close," Nomer warned. "Fuck, Bio, I'm so close."
Bio's hand found Nomer's, fingers lacing together, holding on.
"Come with me," Nomer said. "Come with me, please—"
And Bio did.
The orgasm ripped through them like lightning, white-hot and devastating. Their body arched off the bed, mouth open in a silent cry, and they felt Nomer shudder above them, felt the hot pulse of release inside them.
For a moment, there was nothing but the two of them, tangled together, breathing in sync.
Then Nomer collapsed, their weight pressing Bio into the mattress, and the void hummed around them, satisfied.
"Holy shit," Nomer whispered.
Bio didn't respond. Couldn't respond. They simply lay there, limp and trembling, as Nomer's breath slowly evened out against their neck.
"I meant what I said," Nomer murmured after a long silence. "You're my world, Bio. You've always been my world."
Bio's eyes closed. Tears leaked from beneath their lids, hot and silent.
"And I know I'm not yours," Nomer continued, their voice barely audible. "I know you'd rather build a thousand fake worlds than live in one real one with me. But that's okay."
They lifted their head, and their eyes—green and purple, clashing and beautiful and wrong—met Bio's.
"Because I'm patient."
They kissed Bio's forehead, soft and reverent.
"And I'm never leaving."
Bio's hand moved, weakly. Never?
Nomer smiled. "Never."
The void pressed in around them, wet wool and suffocating weight, but for the first time since they had arrived, Bio did not feel alone.
The bed shifted as Nomer rolled off them, settling onto their side and pulling Bio against their chest. The gray static swirled lazily around them, indifferent to the intimacy that had just occurred, but Nomer's arm was a warm band across Bio's ribs, and Nomer's breath was steady against their hair.
"I'm going to make you a world," Nomer whispered. "The most beautiful world you've ever seen. And you're going to live in it with me."
Bio didn't respond.
But when Nomer's hand found theirs in the dark, they didn't pull away.
And that, in the endless gray void where nothing lasted and nothing mattered, was as close to a promise as either of them had ever made.