Editing Commissar Techpriestess love story (section)

=== Chapter 8 ===
Octavia’s eyes went wide, and her mind into overdrive, where were the towels, she had spent all morning cleaning and now could not remember where she had put the towels. Letting out a small eep, she hurried into the bathroom, her mechadendrites wrenching the linen cupboard open, her eyes scanned up and down the shelves. Her towels were small, made for people the size of her or Caelistis, not for someone as broad shouldered as her guest. Her fleshbrain pointed out that this was not a problem, so long as he was dried off eventually, that was all he needed. Her cognitor ceded the point, and she grabbed a fluffy red towel, before returning to the main living area. Rogal stood with his back to her, his hat on the table and his shirt in his hands, as he wrung it out over the sink. Octavia’s breath caught in her throat, as she watched the muscles in Rogal’s back twist and move as he wrung the water from his shirt, rivulets from his hair making their way down over corded muscles. She let out a small whimper, and forced herself to move. Taking the towel in her hands, she gently dabbed at Rogal’s back, causing him to stiffen. 
“Octavia?”
She let out an eep, before composing herself, “Rogal?”
Pausing from wringing his shirt, Rogal stood up, “What are you doing?”
Octavia reached up as far as she could, her mechadendrites helping her to dry her guest’s broad shoulders, “You are my guest, I am being a good hostess.”
Rogal shrugged, “I can dry myself, you know,”
Octavia nodded behind him, “I am aware of that,” She said, her fleshbrain relishing the feeling of Rogal under her mechanical fingertips, quickly added, “But this is Mechanicum hospitality, now please, take a seat.” She said, pulling a chair out from the table in the middle of the room. Rogal sat, as Octavia draped the towel across his shoulders.

She lifted his jacket from her shoulders with her mechadendrites, draping the water soaked coat over the back of another chair, before removing her own cloak. She shook her head, small droplets flying, before returning to her guest. Taking the towel in her hands, she began to dry Rogal’s hair. He sighed happily as she buried her hands in the towel and his hair, ruffling this way and that. Her mechadendrites slunk out and over his shoulders, finding knots in the muscles and working at them. Rogal moaned happily, his head sinking forward. Octavia left the towel and moved her hands over the broad nape of the commissar’s neck, her nimble fingers tracing across the muscle bundles. Her mechadendrites wrapped up and under his arms, as Octavia went up on tiptoe to hug her guest from behind. The sound of rain on the roof of the complex was the only thing that could be heard.
Octavia sighed, “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered, her heart fluttering in her chest. Her fleshbrain hugged itself with joy as her mechadendrites lazily traced lines across Rogal’s broad chest. She felt his breathing, the steady thump of his massive heart, how the muscles in his shoulders were tensing once more. A deep rumble started in his chest, “I couldn’t let them hurt you,” He whispered back, reaching up with a huge hand to cup her face. Her chest went tight, her fleshbrain cheered, this was it, he was going to turn her head, their lips would meet, and- He gently stroked her cheek as he stood.
“We never had dessert.” He said, grinning awkwardly. He crossed the room in a couple of strides, and opened the crate once more. From within he produced a small domed item and a packet of red fruits. Octavia’s eyes went wide, “Are those?”
Rogal nodded, “Strawberries, I heard somewhere that you liked them,” he said as he sat down again, placing the punnet of strawberries down beside the bronze domed egg.

Pressing a button on the side, the dome popped open, a chocolatey smell filling the air. 
“I also heard that you like chocolate,” Rogal said, his lopsided smile beaming.
Inside her head, Octavia’s fleshbrain squealed with delight, her cognitor joining in, for the love of chocolate. Her mouth watered, as she watched Rogal dip one of the bright red strawberries into the dark chocolaty pool, pulling it back up with a skilful twist and offering it to her. Her lips locked around the morsel and she bit down, leaving just the green stem in Rogal's fingers, and she whimpered happily. The pair sat, as Rogal prepared another strawberry. Pulling her knees underneath herself, Octavia knelt on her chair, leaning over the table to get closer to her guest and his gift. He presented her with another, which she took hungrily, her lips skimming his now ungloved fingertips as she bit down. Her eyes half closed with delight as she chewed, she sighed happily. Taking a strawberry for himself, Rogal dipped it into the molten chocolate, his attention more on his hostess than on his actions. His fingertips dipped into the rich dark liquid, and he jerked his hand back, strings of chocolate dripping. Octavia licked her lips, and looked at her guest with wide eyes. Rogal felt his insides melt like the chocolate dripping from his fingers, as he offered Octavia the strawberry. She took it greedily, and her fleshbrain took its chance, her tongue flicked out and across Rogal’s fingers, collecting as much of the chocolate as she could. Her cognitor stood mute as she moaned happily. Rogal’s brain just froze, his manhood taking over in his moment of weakness. His other hand reached up to Octavia, and buried itself in her hair, as he pulled his other hand away, leaving a small trail of chocolate at the corner of Octavia’s mouth.

Her tongue darted out, licking hungrily at the chocolate, as Rogal dipped a strawberry for himself and threw it into his mouth. Octavia nuzzled her head into his hand, and pulled herself onto the table, crawling forward. Rogal’s mind barely registered anything, lost now in her emerald eyes, as his primal brain took over, reaching forward to take an augmented hand in his own. Octavia’s fleshbrain moaned happily, “I never got to thank you for saving me,” She whispered huskily, as their faces got closer, Rogal’s hand tightening in her hair. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against hers, her breath hot against his mouth. With a crash, they both gave in to their humanity, their lips meeting with a literal spark as Octavia’s potential coil fired. The pair jerked, before coming back together, Rogal’s broad hand sliding up her arm to her shoulder and pulling her closer. Octavia whimpered, her mechadendrites snaking forward to wrap themselves around the commissars neck and over his shoulders. Rogal stood, Octavia rising to kneel on the table, her hands splayed across his chest, before he leaned over her, pinning her down by her arms. Her fleshbrain cried out in happiness, “YESYESYESYESYES” it cried, as her cognitor hoped the table was strong enough to support them both. Octavia moaned into the kiss, her tongue flicking out to meet Rogal's, and was overpowered by the broad muscle. A mechadendrite twitched, activating the auto seal feature on the chocolate pot, before it fell, rolling off the table with a thud. Only Octavia’s cognitor noticed, as her fleshbrain indulged itself, arching their bodies back, pressing against the steely muscles of their guest. Rogal pulled back, taking a deep lungful of air, before burying himself in the nape of her neck, his tongue running across the electoo at her throat. Octavia bucked, the little licks at her throat causing shorts in her electoos, and spasms of pleasure down her spine.

Her fleshbrain writhed in ecstasy, moaning loudly. Her cognitor managed to silence most of them, but the occasional one slipped past. She felt Rogal shudder against her, as her mechadendrites dragged themselves across his back. Her cognitor picked up sounds from outside the door, and tried to tell someone, but was promptly drowned out by more moans and smutty talk from the fleshbrain. The door lock clicked and the pair froze. Rogal slowly lifted his head from Octavia’s neck, as she tilted her head back to look. Caelistis poked her head into the room, 
“Oh, Octavia, I didn’t know we were expecting guests this early,” she said, with a sly smile on her face. Rogal gently released his grip on her arms and stood, Octavia’s mechadendrites trailing lazily from his shoulders, before slowly dragging their way down his chest and back to beside their owner. A mechadendrite subtly moved down her leg, straightening her skirt. Rogal bent and picked the egg heater from the floor and set it on the table, before sitting down and pawing at his hair nervously. Octavia had rolled off the table and now stood beside it, her mechadendrites playing with the edge of her skirt. Caelistis grinned, “Well, if that’s the case, I should get going, I was just stopping by for a change of cloak, but I think I have a spare in the work shop.” 
She tapped her forehead in mock salute, “Commissar, Octavia, have a good evening,”
The door clicked shut, and the sound of rain on the complex roof was once again the only noise in the room. 
Caelistis closed the door and walked down the hall. She rounded a few corners before bursting into laughter. She had not intended for that to happen, having expected her friend to remember their old code from the colledgia for letting the other know they had guests.

Caelistis almost skipped back to the vehicle pit, and when she arrived, walked to a particular chimera and knocked on the back hatch. A knock responded, and the hatch opened, Tiberius’s grinning face popped out and looked around, before opening the hatch wide. 
“Thank you, Tiberius,” Caelistis said, before stifling a giggle, “You won’t believe what I just did.” 
Rogal tapped his fingers against the table nervously, waiting for his simple brain to come up with something to say. A witty quip, a reassuring statement, anything to break the tension. When he retold this part of the story, he would claim the Emprah himself was applauding him, as a peal of thunder rocked the complex. Octavia screamed, half jumping, half collapsing into her chair once more, her tiny shaking with fear. Her mind flashed back to the battlefield, the booming of the orks landing, the terror as she scrambled to find a safe place. Her mechadendrites lashed around her protectively, as her mind flowed unbidden with memnor files. The Ork’s gruesome maw, the stench of blood and ozone, the warm feeling of someone’s arms around her. Her mind paused, that wasn’t right, her cognitor complained, no one hugged us. Opening an eye, Octavia found herself face to face with her commissarial guest, wrapped in his powerful arms. 
“Easy there, little lady,” he whispered softly, stroking her hair, “It’s just the storm, no orks.”
With a whimpering sigh, Octavia leaned into Rogal’s chest, and hiccupped. A mechadendrite snaked around his arm, as she pulled him closer, “It was horrible,” she mumbled, “So green, so angry,”
Rogal just nodded, “I know, it’s going to stay with you for a little bit,” he said gently, Octavia feeling the rumble in his chest as he spoke.
Her fleshbrain seized its chance, “Can you, stay with me, for a little bit?” she asked, looking up with her emerald eyes.

Rogal stiffened slightly, as a mechadendrite slid around his chest and stroked at his back. Another crack of thunder boomed, and Octavia whimpered, burying herself in his chest even deeper. He curved his shoulders around her protectively, whispering a soothing litany in to the top of her head. Looking around, he spied the egg heater, and the remains of the strawberry punnet. He reached out, activating the egg once more, the rich chocolate smell filling the room. He quickly dipped a red berry in the molten confection, before offering it to Octavia,
“Here, It’ll make you feel better,” He said, gently pressing the coated strawberry to her lips. Those pink lips parted to accept the morsel, biting down slowly, a droplet of juice trickling down her chin. Rogal wiped it with a finger, as his hostess ate happily, sighing as she leaned against his chest once more. The rain got heavier, and thunder boomed once more, shaking the complex, but there in Rogal’s burly arms, Octavia felt safe. The pair stayed like that for a while, Rogal’s huge form kneeling beside her chair, his arms around her, her mechadendrites wrapped around him. Time passed, quiet nothings were murmured, before Octavia looked over Rogal’s broad shoulder to the ornate chronometer on the wall,
“We should sleep,” She whispered, trailing a hand down Rogal’s chest, tracing the outline of the muscle,
“I should go then,” He whispered back, going to pull away. Octavia’s mechadendrites tightened around his arms. Looking up at him with her brilliant green eyes, Octavia pouted sadly,
“Cannot you, stay? Please? You stopped the flashbacks before. I need to sleep. Please, stay?”
Octavia’s cognitor nearly retched, how pathetic she sounded. Her fleshbrain growled, pointing out her cognitor’s inability to stop the flashbacks, and how this was the most efficient option.