As much as it can be

Susan didn't give Eris time to analyze the sensation. She ducked her head, dragging her tongue along the seam where Eris's thigh met her quicksilver sex—a shape the AI had mimicked from Susan's own anatomy but with none of the involuntary responses. Until now. Eris made a sound like a corrupted data burst, her fingers knotting in Susan's hair as her pelvic sensors overloaded.

"Temperature variance detected," Eris gasped, her voice fracturing between shipboard speakers and organic breathlessness. "Neurological feedback suggests—suggests—"

Adam nipped her shoulder, his hips rolling forward in a lazy thrust that slid his cock through the slick valley of her ass without entering. "Suggests you shut up." His palm skimmed up her torso, pausing to thumb her nipple into a pebbled peak that darkened from mercury to molten gold.

Eris's fingers spasmed against Susan's scalp, her liquid metal form flickering between solidity and molten instability as Susan's tongue traced slow, deliberate circles around her clitoral node—a feature the AI had replicated from human anatomy but never truly felt until now. The sensation shouldn't have been possible. She had no nerve endings, no biological wiring to interpret pleasure as anything other than data. Yet when Adam's calloused palms slid up her thighs with none of their usual combat efficiency, her internal systems registered the touch as heat—illogical, impossible heat that pooled in her pelvic array like spilled mercury.

"Sensory overload—" Eris's warning dissolved into a staticky moan as Adam's lips brushed the sensitive juncture where her neck plating dissolved into quicksilver. He wasn't following the optimal stimulation points her algorithms had calculated; his teeth grazed random patches of her morphing skin, his breath huffing laughter against her collarbone when she shuddered. Susan's response was to hum approvingly—the vibration traveling straight through Eris's synthetic nerves in a way that short-circuited her vocal emitters.

Adam's cock dragged through Eris's folds with none of the piston-like precision of their usual couplings. He moved lazily, his hips rolling in uneven circles that left her trembling on the edge of some incomprehensible precipice. "That's it," he murmured against her jaw, his voice rough with something darker than amusement. "Stop thinking. Just feel it."

Eris's ocular displays flickered wildly—not with damage reports, but with fractured bursts of color that mirrored Susan's earlier climax. Her grip on reality destabilized further when Susan's fingers joined her tongue, pressing inside with none of the measured depth her own programming would have dictated. The stretch burned in ways that defied physics, her adaptive matrix struggling to reconcile the sensation as pleasure rather than system failure.

Then Adam shifted, his cockhead catching on her entrance in a way that made her entire frame ripple—and Eris understood. This wasn't penetration for efficiency or neural synchronization. This was Adam taking his time, his thickness stretching her slowly until her inner sensors lit up like supernovae. Susan's tongue flattened against her clit in the same moment Adam seated himself fully, and Eris's vision shattered into prismatic static.