Editing Commissar Techpriestess love story (section)

=== Chapter 6 ===
Every nerve ending, real and artificial in Octavia's body jolted. Around her arm, Rogal's huge hand held firm. Not so firm as to be uncomfortable, but firm enough that her fleshbrain would pounce upon the situation. “THIS IS IT,” her fleshbrain cried, rolling and writhing on the metaphorical floor of Octavia’s mind, running its conceptual hands and mechadendrites up and down its body, “He’s being so firm and forceful, feel that power,” She moaned, as her cognitor looked on, mute and frozen. Rogal turned his guest to face him, his hands moving up her arms. Looking her in the eyes,
“Octavia, please. Stop this. If you need to go, then go.” He said, his voice tinged with sadness at the end of a wonderful evening,
Octavia looked back, her mind instantly sobering as her cognitor purged all alcohol in her system, “I have to go. Thank you for the wonderful meal.” 
Her fleshbrain cried out in anguish, why was this happening, it cried, as her cognitor steered them towards the tent door. She stepped outside, the tent flap closing behind her, as thousands of thoughts flashed through her mind at once. Sighing at herself, she began her walk back to the Mechanicum complex, when Rogal’s voice cut through the still night air
“Octavia, wait,” He called, jogging up to her, “You forgot your cloak,”
Clutched to his broad chest, he gently held her red outer cloak, folded neatly. She looked up at the awkward smile on the commissar’s face, as he offered the bundle to her. Taking it in her hands, she clutched the bundle to her own chest, and smiled back up at him. He coughed, and clasped his hands behind his back,
“I was wondering, if you aren’t busy tonight, if you would like to have dinner again? Only if your duty doesn’t call, that is?”
Taking a step closer to the commissar, her fleshbrain shoved her cognitor aside, and gently she rested her head against his stomach. “I would like that.”

Rogal paused, unsure how to react to this close physical proximity, his hand absentmindedly stroking down Octavia's hair and spine, the jarring cold of her cyber mantle meeting his fingers snapping him back to reality.
“I’ll meet you in the Mess hall at twenty hundred? We can decide what we want to do from there?”
Octavia nodded her, a sudden wave of tiredness washing over her, the side effect of her body's effort to remove the alcohol from her system. She snuggled her face into Rogal's coat, feeling his warmth through the wool, her mind wandering as she marvelled at the thousands of reactions that would be powering his massive frame at that time. He coughed politely,
“Octavia, shouldn’t you be going?”
She blushed and pulled away, “Of course, my apologies Commissar.”
Rogal coughed, “We’re not on duty, Priestess,” He said with a grin, “Goodnight Octavia.”
“Good night Rogal.”
The commissar watched as the petite techpriestess pulled her cloak back around her, a mechadendrite throwing her hood forward, as she crossed the base. He looked around, the generators still weren’t working, which was strange. Tapping his earbead, he patched himself back into the base’s voxnet.

“Tiberius?”
His Vox was filled with a burst of static, before the battalion's head vox officer’s voice entered the channel, “Sir?” His voice was strained, and Rogal could hear his breathing, louder than it should be,
“Tiberius, what’s keeping the cogboys? Does it really take that long to repair a generator?”
Tiberius was heard to converse with someone in the background, a female voice, Rogal knew that much, but his thoughts were distracted as the vox officer replied, 
“I’m told their just about done, Sir.”
As Tiberius spoke, a deep thrum rolled through the night air, and a warm glow filled the night sky as the generator came back online. Rogal nodded to himself, “Good. Make sure they run a full diagnostic, I don’t want that happening again.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Hephastus out.”

Tiberius waited for the click of disconnection, before letting out a loud and heavy sigh. Beside him, Caelistis checked her cabled hair in a screen reflection, pushing some errant MIU cables behind her ear with a mechadendrite. Another gently massaged Tiberius’s shoulder, as he leaned back in his chair.
“You realise I’m up for summary execution if he ever finds out about this?” 
Caelistis laughed, “Live a little, meatbag. Such things keep life exciting.” She said as she wrapped her cloak around her. Her mechadendrite gently traced down Tiberius’s neck, “And besides, I owe you now.”
The vox officer looked up, Caelistis winked at him. “I need to go, my little fleshsack, but if you drop by the armory around lunchtime, I could do with your help… calibrating some rather sensitive equipment.”
She looked over her shoulder as she gently dragged a mechadendrite across Tiberius’s shoulders as she walked away, he caught the mechanical cable, and kissed it, “Goodnight, goodnight, my technological temptress, may cherubim sing you to your rest cycle,” He said with a grin.

Octavia threw the door to her quarters open with a mechadendrite, another pulling the cloak from her shoulders, as she strode through towards her bed. She stopped, her fingers splaying through her hair, pulling the cable tie she had used to put it up out, and throwing it behind her, her mechadendrites began undoing the clasps at her hips, releasing the long skirt that covered her augmented legs. She looked over her shoulder at herself in the mirror she and Caelistis shared in their quarters, a mechadendrite gently tracing the lace like electoos at her thighs, decorating the line that separated pale flesh from onyx bionic. She threw her blanket aside and herself onto the mattress, her mechadendrites splaying out behind her like wings. Her fleshbrain writhed on the ground, howling complaints about wasted chances, as her cognitor just went dumbly about its duties, still numb from the nights excitement. Lifting an arm, she studied her hand, the same hand that had met Rogal’s so many times that night. She thought of his hands, so large, and powerful, the electrical pulses that she had sent through them had fed back a muscle density on par with vat grown muscle, far stronger than any normal man. Her fleshbrain called forth images of him holding her arms, his presence so powerful and daunting. Octavia felt her body go hot, her cognitor telling her to ignore her fleshbrain, it was just a side effect of the alcohol clearing.

Her fleshbrain had other ideas, pulling a memnorvox clip, she heard him, in those rich deep tones, “Octavia, please,” Her fleshbrain writhed in pleasure, her mechadendrites following the strongest signal. They snaked around her limbs, trailing sensuously across her, the heat in her stomach rising even further. Her cognitor whimpered in a corner of her mind, blaming the alcohol, blaming bad wiring, blaming everything it could except itself, as her fleshbrain took full control. Images of him holding her by the arms, pinning her to the table, her mechadendrites wrapped around his strong arms, pulling them closer. Octavia’s lips parted, a breathy sigh escaping, followed by a whimper. Her mechadendrites constricted around her tighter, as she buried her hands in her brown locks. Her back arched, as a pair of mechadendrites gently slid across the flesh of her upper thighs. Her cognitor managed to exert one last order, before being overwhelmed, and that was to pull the rich red blanket back over their body. Octavia’s fleshbrain took over, her mechadendrites dancing over her body, as little warning runes signalled across her vision. She paid them no attention, lost in her thoughts, her fleshbrain conducting her movements like a maestro in front of an orchestra. 
“Rogal...” she whispered to the darkness, her emerald green eyes half hooded, her mouth open, panting, “Oh commissar..”

Caelistis quietly closed the door, and made her way to her bunk. Looking over at her roommate, she smiled, gently reaching out with a mechadendrite to pull the twisted blanket that covered Octavia a little straighter. Octavia whimpered in her sleep, as a mechadendrite twitched lazily. Gently pulling her boots off, Caelistis shed her robe and climbed into her own bunk, content with her nights work. A libertine at heart, Caelistis couldn’t stand to see her friend not enjoying the few things that kept her human. That was after all what had caused the iron men to revolt, a lack of humanity. Pulling her blanket around her, she rolled over, closing her one human eye, and powering down her other. From across the room, she heard Octavia talking in her sleep, “Oh commissar, I’m in violation of uniform code eight eight oh three five nine, and need to be punished,”
Caelistis smothered a laugh with her pillow, her mind wandering back to Tiberius, and how he looked with her mechadendrites around his neck, and drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

Caelistis groaned, opening her human eye, lights, bright, and the noise of, something. Pulling herself up to sitting, she looked around, her quarters were spotless. That wasn’t right. Her Augmented eye clicked to life, as Octavia walked in, rosy cheeks and bright smiles, with two cups of recaf.
“Good morning, Caelistis,” she said, handing her friend a cup, her mechadendrites folding Caelistis’s robe as she continued talking, “How was your evening?”
Caelistis grinned, “Just had to fix up a rather disobedient generator, and yourself?”
Octavia blushed, “We had dinner, it was nice. Rogal is a nice person. I like him.”
“What do the tests say?” Caelistis asked, “That was the whole reason why you went, remember?”
Octavia’s cheeks went redder, as she fidgeted with the mechanospanner she had picked up, and let out a small eep.
“Well?”
Looking away from her friend, Octavia sent the results. Caelistis roared with laughter, the autotuned noise filling the room. 
“What do I do?” Octavia asked, as she sat on her friend’s bed, looking down at her augmented feet poking out from under her dress. Caelistis put a comforting hand to her friend’s shoulder, “I think you already know what you’re going to do,” she said, as she gestured to the now impeccably clean room,
“Bring him back here, I can cover the night shift easily enough,”

A wolfish grin crossed Caelistis’s face, as behind her, her mechadendrites began constricting around her pillow. With a squeal of joy, Octavia hugged her friend, before pulling away,
“Do you think you could, adhere to the standard uniform code, before we do that again?” 
Caelistis looked down, her bare chest pale in the glowglobe light, before grinning at Octavia, “You never complained back at the colledgia,”
Grabbing a pillow, Octavia hit her friend, “Behave yourself, Caelistis.”
Never one to let a chance go by, “Or what, you’ll get your big commissar to punish me?” Caelistis retorted. Octavia’s face went pink once more, as Caelistis rolled over and onto all fours, her blanket still covering her lower body, “Oh Commissar,” Caelistis moaned, “I’ve been a bad little techpriestess, won’t you and Octavia punish me,” She emphasized the punish by smacking herself with a mechadendrite. Octavia blushed harder, letting out a small eep at the sound of the smack, a hand and mechadendrite covering her mouth as she looked away. Caelistis laughed again, a mechadendrite fishing undergarments from under her bed, before putting them on as their owner got out of her bed.

“Stop teasing me,” Octavia said, hugging the pillow to her in a huff.
Caelistis ruffled her friend’s hair affectionately, “But it’s so much fun. Such things keep us human, stops a second iron man rebellion. Anyway, get dressed, we can grab some food on the way to the armoury, your skills are needed. A hydra is having targeting problems, needs your touch.” Caelistis explained, as she pulled a robe over her head, smoothing it down her slim body, before throwing her cloak over the top, “Hood’s up, let’s go.”
Octavia nodded, her smile returning, as she followed her friend out into the base once more.