Intimacy and the Lack Thereof

by Jixie

Borderlands © Gearbox Software

"…and meantime, I can't get properly laid, because I keep leaching my partners to death. So yeah, that's my 'thing'."

Troy cut the feed and gave her an amused look. "I TOLD you, just get a sex robot already."

"That's not a thing," Tyreen replied, rolling her eyes.

"It is a thing. It's totally a thing."

She pouted, crossing her arms as she slouched in her seat.

"Is not. And besides, even if it was, I don't… that's not how I get down." After a slight pause, she started muttering under her breath. "I don't know how it would— how can— I'd end up getting ruptured for crying out loud."

"Nah, you'll be fine. It's no different than jerkin' off with your metal hand—"

"NOOOOOOOOO!" she cried, clapping her hands over her ears. "UGH! Troy! How dare you!" Turning her head slightly, Tyreen pantomimed gagging and vomiting. "Uuuugh, I could've lived withOUT that mental image, thank you very much!"

"You're welcome," he replied, equally sarcastic.

She leaned forward, sagging, shoulders hunched and arms hanging, fingers almost brushing the ground.

"I hate you. I hate you, you disgusting bastard." Then she glanced up, look of consternation on her face. "How the hell do you even do that without— ugh— without accidentally ripping it off?"

Troy knew it was a rhetorical question, and knew that he shouldn't answer… but he couldn't help himself. With one brow arched and a crooked grin, he held up his index finger— on his cybernetic right hand, naturally— and said: "Very carefully."

She groaned and facepalmed.

"Who wants to fuck each other silly for your God-Queen's entertainment?"

Every hand in the vicinity shot up. She didn't even have to use her influence on them. They'd just as eagerly throw themselves into a running grinder for her. Tyreen's face twisted in deep contemplation as she reviewed her options. One thing she'd give them— as badly as eridium exposure has deformed most of them, the bandits of Pandora keep themselves in remarkable physical shape. A few were a little spongy around the middle, some rocking spare tires, but most were lean and toned.

"You," she said, pointing to an especially cut psycho. There was no telling if he had a decent mug or not, but it didn't matter— with abs like those, he could keep the mask on. "And you." A wild-eyed, busty zealot. "Aaaaand… hmmm… you." This one was a beefy bruiser, with a derrière that he could crack a walnut between his cheeks.

They followed her into one of her private rooms and began to undress.

"So, guys, how about you introduce yourselves?"

The zealot started talking before she even finished. "Buzz Kill!"

"I'm sorry… 'Buzz Kill'?"

"Yeah!" She nodded, a broad grin plastered across her face as she peeled off her shirt. Bingo! "It's short for 'Buzzsaw Killer', my two favorite words!"

"Oh… well… okay then." Tyreen glanced at the next volunteer.

"TAZERFACE!" He was attempting to pull his pants off over his shoes, and stumbled.

There was an uneasy silence, and Tyreen blinked in surprise. Then blinked again.

"Alriiiiight." She clasped her hands together. "New names for everyone!"

"Didn't you want to hear mine?" the bruiser asked.

"Nope!" Tyreen glanced from one to the other and started to point. "Fabio," she told the psycho. "Umm… Peaches, aka Titty Monster." She christened the zealot. Then she paused at the bruiser and drew in a sharp breath. "And holy cow, that thing's like a foot long."

"'That Thing's Like a Foot Long' is a bit of a mouthful…"

"I'll say. No, but seriously, let's call you, um, yikes, uh…" There were so many options. Bologna Poney? King Bullymong? Rock-Hard Kielbasa?

"M-meat! Meat Bicycle!" Fabio suggested.

"The Conductor!" said Peaches.

"Let me guess." Tyreen pinched the bridge of her nose. "'The Conductor… of the poop train'?"

Peaches squealed and clapped. "Yes, yes!"

"Nnnnno. Ugh. Okay, Rakkman."

"Oh! Rakkman is my favorite superhero!"

'Superhero' was not an appropriate description of Rakkman, but whatever.

"No wait. Bone Crusher!" This seemed to go over well. "Now we've got that out the way, let's talk ground rules. Safewords: There are none. Anything goes."

"Even killing? Like with a buzzsaw axe?" ̶B̶u̶z̶z̶ ̶K̶i̶l̶l̶ Peaches asked.

"Yes, but—" Tyreen pounded her fist into her other hand. "That's not what you're here for. And right now, there is a decided lack of holes being filled, guys. C'mon. Chop chop."

They delivered, and did not disappoint. As always, she took care of herself.

Tyreen was on the cusp of ecstasy when her echo came on.

"Hey Ty, just a heads up—"

"Not now, Troy!"

"—the Vault Thieves are—"

"I SAID NOT NOW!"

Her brother huffed in frustration before cutting off the echo transmission.

It was too late, the disruption had completely killed her mood. Furious, Tyreen screamed and flung the toy she'd been using.

…Accidentally whacking Fabio right in the head with the vibrator.

Peaches and Bone Crusher took it as a sign to start attacking. Within minutes, the hapless psycho was reduced to a quivering heap of meat and viscera.

"For our Queen Tyreen! For the twin gods!"

"Enough. That's— that's enough. Go. Scram."

She wanted to roll around on the ground and throw a screaming tantrum, but Fabio— or Tazerface, whatever— was still bleeding life. There was no point in letting him go to waste. Tyreen approached, placed a gentle hand on his head, and drained him dry.

A/N: Guardians of the Galaxy jokes? In my Borderlands fanfic? Ah, heck.