Simulacra
a John Price story by The Californicationist for 141RECON’s Monthly Challenge: March of the Robots with original artwork by the illustrious @auberghyn
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TW: explicit sex, men whimpering, cumflation, cyborg!Price
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>UPDATE bravo-6.374 APPLIED >MEMORY CACHE DOWNLOAD COMPLETE >TACTILE SENSORS ONLINE >INSTALLATION COMPLETE >SYSTEM CALIBRATION COMPLETE >INITIALIZING…
...
The room was clean. That was always the most unsettling part of opening his eyes. The difference was staggering compared to the filth and grime that was smeared across the city and its forlorn residents outside. The oily rain never truly washed away all of the dust. He hadn’t seen a blue sky in months. Outside these walls, all of Earth’s gifts had been washed away in the name of progress and replaced with decay and filth. But, John didn't fret about losing the past. It wasn't something he would ever find again, so he put it from his mind. Eyes front, soldier.
As John looked around the room at the gleaming steel floor, galvanized and polished to a high shine, at the sparkling tiles that lay in little rows along the walls, each one reflecting the harsh overhead lighting in its polished surface, he wondered if he would ever get used to the sterility.
“Bravo-6,” the computer spoke to him, her artificially-crafted voice tinny and weak, “Run update diagnostic.”
“Diagnostic complete,” he replied, his voice a perfect replication of his scruffy Scouse dialect. He hadn’t had lungs in fifty years, but it still sounded like he smoked. When they’d offered to install a modulator, he’d refused. He had asked them to keep his voice just as it was, and they’d let him. There was a sort of comfort in that, he supposed.
Running the diagnostic hadn’t taken any time. He barely controlled systems like that in a conscious way anymore. In the early days, it would have been a chore. And in the beginning, it would have been painful, excruciatingly so. But now, it was nothing.
“Report received,” the computer acknowledged him, taking her data and flitting away like an invisible bird with a fresh worm between her beak, devouring and ever-hungry.
“Good morning, John,” a familiar voice greeted him, carrying through the blank room.
“Dr. Arao,” John purred as he watched the woman emerge from behind her desk.
“You’re always so formal when you wake up,” she grinned.
She was always the best part of his day. The dirty world outside of the lab couldn’t touch an elite scientist like her. Her straight, black hair was cut in a chin-length bob, and she used a shampoo that smelled like toasted coconut and vanilla cream. Expensive. Her teeth were sharp and white, and her bright eyes held two beautiful, pitch-dark pools that rested beneath hooded lids. A round nose sat just above a set of full, pouting lips, and although her smile did not come easy to others, it did for him.
He tried to ignore the other information his body seemed to deliver about her. Pulse rate at seventy-five beats per minute, body temperature holding at exactly thirty-seven degrees centigrade. Beyond the delightful coconut scent, he could smell coffee and mint toothpaste mixing together in a discordant mess in her mouth. He could just pick out the tell-tale synthetic wheat on her breath as she unhooked him from the diagnostic cables. She’d had toast this morning.
“Any pain?” She asked. She always asked, and his answer was always the same:
“No.”
She smiled as she looked down at her datapad,
“Well, perhaps that will change,” then, she shook her head, correcting herself, “No, wait. Sorry, I don’t want you to be in pain. I just meant –”
“It’s alright, love,” John stepped down from the heavy steel frame that had been cradling his body, standing beside her now, dwarfing her with his height and size, “I understand.”
“These new tactile sensors have been very promising in our tests. Temperature, pressure, vibration; it’s all on-boarded with the updated interface. You should be able to feel someone breathe from across the room with how high they’ve cranked these settings.”
“Mm,” John hummed non-commitally. He knew that these updates were not for his benefit, so he was reticent to enjoy them.
The doctor finally looked up from her datapad, compassion flashing through her eyes. She reached out to touch his arm, and for the first time in ages, he could feel the heat in her fingertips as she made contact with his synthetic skin. He looked down at her touch, surprised, and she bit the inside of her lip, watching him experience it,
“Do you want to run some tests?” Her tone was that of an explorer setting out on their maiden voyage, full of excitement and something near to hope.
“Whatever you need, Doct–”
“I told you before,” she interrupted him, waving her hand as if to cleanse the air of his words, “It’s Tala. Please.”
“Tala,” he felt her name fill his mouth, noting how the sound waves vibrated in his throat.
More and more, his body was delivering new sensory feedback from the update. He was beginning to see just how much had changed.
Tala motioned for him to sit in a cushioned, elevated chair, and she used the knobs to lean him back until he was suspended in front of her. His pretty doctor pulled up a chair next to him and attached her datapad to its receiver, watching as the data points began to populate the screen.
“Alright,” she slid up beside his shoulder and straightened her lab coat, “This code takes time to become established. We couldn’t make clear neural connections in our modelling because models don’t have memories. But,” she smiled smugly, “You do. Can you remember a feeling for me?”
John furrowed his brow,
“What sort of feeling?”
Tala sighed, twisting her mouth for a moment, thinking. Then, she shrugged,
“You used to smoke cigars, right? That was in your file. How did they feel?”
John thought for a moment, and he tried to recall the ritual. He could pull up plenty of information about how it should feel. The tobacco leaves should be moistened by his mouth, soft between his lips. The burning embers should feel warm as he pulled smoke across his palate. But, these were theoreticals fed to him by his system’s computer. He wasn’t remembering so much as he was knowing.
He sighed, trying to recall it for her,
“I’m sorry… I can’t –”
“Can you feel this?” Tala reached out to touch his hand, resting her fingers gently in the center of his wrist.
John stared down at her contact, focusing on the inputs he was now receiving in his head. She was touching him as if taking his pulse, or where his pulse would be if he had one anymore.
When he died, John had been stitched back together as a part of a secret program named Knightfall. It was a Lazarus protocol that took unthinkable measures in order to bring soldiers back from the dead, only to load them up with experimental drugs and implants, trying to improve on the original design.
That program had been replaced by four others in the years that passed, but each time, Knightfall kept him around, using him like a prototype, a guinea pig for them to run their tests and see what happened. He’d visited his gravestone, a little concrete pillar in the churchyard of St. Vincent’s. His fingers had traced over his name – Captain John Price, devoted soldier, 1985-2030 – and that had been the end of his human life. He belonged to the government now, blood and bone replaced bit by bit with oil and steel. Then, they had begun replacing that, too.
He should’ve died permanently in that explosion. Instead, they had puzzled him back together like a metal monster, replacing bone with titanium alloy, flesh with synthetic weave, and his ruined left eye had been carved out and updated with a digital interface. When he’d lost the right one on another assignment, he’d insisted that its robotic replacement be the same color. He didn’t want another steel marble rolling around in his synthetic orbital socket. He wanted to see himself when he looked in his reflection. Or at least some version of himself. Whatever that meant.
They’d replaced his limbs with bionic machines, strong enough to crush tank treads without really trying. His organs had begun to fail back in the ‘50s, and slowly, like Thesus’ ship, he’d changed into something else. Parts of his brain were still there, but how much of him was truly left? Did a soul remain trapped inside of him somewhere?
Now, in the long-stretched year of 2089, he was being touched by the only human that mattered to him anymore. Beneath Tala’s lithe fingers, she should feel the pounding of his heartbeat, the warmth of his recycled blood. Yet, none of it was there for her. He was a vampire, cursed like Cain. He could kill; he just couldn’t die.
“Yeah…” He nodded, “Feels warm, I think.”
“Warm?” She asked softly, curious, but not in the way that a scientist should be, “And this? Can you feel the pressure?”
Her small hand wrapped itself around his palm, her thumb pressing into the meat of his hand, and yes, he could feel the tension of it. John wanted to squeeze her back. He wanted to hold her hand in his and pull her into him. Such an impulse hadn’t come over him in so long, he wondered at first if it was violence before realizing that it was lust.
“Yes.” His answer was short, ironically robotic, and he fought to regain some semblance of control.
When Knightfall had first reconstructed him, they had spoken of him in utilitarian terms: Asset. Platform. Unit. They had not spoken of sensation except as it related to combat feedback, the necessary inputs required to execute violence efficiently. To crush. To burn. Tactile sensitivity had once been deemed an inefficiency, a liability. Pain was dulled. Temperature was moderated. Pleasure was irrelevant.
Now, standing in the long shadow of that decision, he wondered if what they had removed from him had been more than nerves. It felt that she had given it back to him.
“And this?” She whispered, no longer curious. Now, she was testing him. But, she didn’t record any data. Tala didn’t even glance over at her screens. No. She was more interested in the quick, darting movement of his eyes, the slight shock that rushed over his brow, the tightness of his mouth.
Her hand brushed John’s cheek, and he couldn’t help but lean into her heat. It had been so many years since someone had touched him in a way that was not painful or medicinal. As he turned his face to meet her touch, he felt her heart rate spike. It beat inside of her like a drum, and he wondered why.
Was it fear?
His hand came up to cup hers, holding it to his cheekbone reverently. Then, he heard her take in a sharp breath through her nose. Nervousness. Uncertainty.
John let her go.
“Yes.” He nodded, watching her hand drop away from his synthetic flesh.
Tala looked at him with that intense sharpness that he’d come to so deeply admire, and her lips curled into a very tentative smirk. She looked like she was breaking a rule, and he was more than happy to aid her in whatever rebellion she had planned. At this point, the outline of her palm against his cheek was throbbing like a burn in his memory, and he forced his onboard computer to enhance the feedback, pumping the memory to stay alive.
“Can you remember your first kiss?”
John heard himself let out a breath and a short laugh, shaking his head,
“I dunno, love. That was ages ago.”
He lied.
Of course he could remember it.
John had been hiding in the gymnasium after class, avoiding the mass exodus of his peers, all bubbling and roiling and ready for summer holiday. He wouldn’t be going off to uni with them. He’d enlisted, and he hadn’t told anyone.
But, Saoirse had found out. John never figured out how, but she’d discovered his secret. She knew where he was hiding, too. Never could keep anything from her. She had turned out to be the only real friend he’d had back then. Both of them from Merseyside. Both of them looking for somewhere to be that wasn’t home. Both of them desperate for a way out.
He thought she would understand that.
“John?” Her voice had echoed in the empty, hollow gym. “I know you’re here, you bloody coward.”
He’d stepped out of the shadows, then, glaring at her.
“Coward? Wha-”
“Thought you’d disappear, didn’t ya?” She shoved him on both of his shoulders, harder than he’d expected, knocking him off-balance, her auburn braid flopping over her shoulder, frizzy from the windy day. “You’d leave without sayin’ goodbye. Mister toy soldier, innit? How dare you!”
She’d hit him, then. Right in the chest. Her little fist had done no real damage to anything but his feelings.
“How dare you, you bastard!”
Her lashes were wet, the lids rimmed red and her green eyes gleamed in the dim light of the room.
“You can’t! You can’t leave me here! You…”
She was angry, but there was something else. Something that, at the time, his sixteen-year-old self couldn’t understand.
“Saoirse…” He begged her, “Please.”
“You, please! You bloody please! I…” Her lip trembled, and all of her words got trapped in her throat. She swallowed and swallowed, trying to speak, but nothing could escape.
And so he had kissed her. He didn’t know why he thought that would work. That it would fix anything. He’d pressed his mouth to hers, unmoving. When his lips touched her lips, he immediately regretted it. Hers were so soft. Too soft. It was as if he was touching the clouds. Like he was the sun, and his lips were the burning rays, and he was punishing her for being in his presence. Touching something that he wasn’t allowed to feel. Taking something he wasn’t allowed to have.
At once, he pulled back. But, almost as quickly, she’d followed him, her lips covering his own, moving against him in a strange, wet dance. He tried to learn the way. He chased her tongue with his own, he touched her body with his hands. She let him. No matter how clumsy he was, she let him be that way.
“You remember,” Tala recognized his expressions, pleased with her new discovery.
John fixed his face, and he shrugged,
“It’s… murky.”
“What was it like?” She asked, stepping closer to his metal throne, approaching him cautiously, as if he might flee from her. As if he had anywhere else he would go.
“Not good,” he gave her the truth with a soft smile. “I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do.”
Then, Tala leaned forward, her straight hair falling against her cheek, brushing his neck. Her nose fit against the side of his, and he could taste her mint toothpaste in his own mouth as she breathed against him. Her hand returned to his cheek, searing itself across the same place he’d felt it before. Finally, with her heart banging in his sensitive ears, she bent her mouth down and kissed him.
That same forbidden softness returned to him in a maddening crash. Tala’s full lips swept across his, fervent and searching. But, this time, he was not an ignorant lad. He moved his jaw against hers with the same desire, the same fire, taking her kiss and giving her his own. He fed her his tongue, taking her own into his mouth and sucking on her soft flesh like she was a dark, ripened fruit. His hands moved to her waist, feeling her body beneath his grasp, mindful of his power as he greedily squeezed her supple curves. The fabric of her blouse gave way against his fingers, and her shirt came untucked so that he could feel the heat of her skin.
She slowed, and he let her retreat, relaxing himself against her like willing prey. Finally, she broke their kiss, and her eyes fluttered open, staring up at him with an expression he was sure he wore on his own visage. Need.
“Was it like that?” She asked in a hushed whisper.
He shook his head, brushing her soft locks behind her ear, touching the soft shell of it with the tips of his fingers as he did,
“No.” He whispered back, “It wasn’t.”
The sound of a door closing came from the hallway, loud enough for them both to hear it. Tala moved back, but her eyes didn’t leave his. She didn’t check the lab portal. She just kept looking at him, full of something nameless.
The footsteps in the hallway disappeared away from the lab, and John tracked it as far as he could, his super-human hearing measuring every sound wave and logging it in his mind. But, it was hard to push himself to care about surveillance when his entire being wanted to track Tala’s every breath, every fierce pulse of her heart inside her breast, the specific dilation of her pupils in those bright eyes of hers.
“John… I’m sorry,” she looked away, turning her face from him suddenly, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
She stood, but John sat up, turning himself in the elevated seat toward her, grabbing her shoulder. She let him stop her retreat, turning herself towards him so that she fit between his knees.
“Why did you, Tala?” John asked her, his voice low and smoldering.
She placed a shaking hand on his chest, right over where his heart should be. She should feel the gentle flutter of his life beneath her touch, but there was nothing there. Nothing but a cold machine. And yet, her palm awakened something within him. Something he couldn’t quantify.
“Because I wanted to,” she confessed.
Another sound interrupted John’s thoughts. The same footsteps returned to the hall, and as they grew closer, he realized they were coming to the lab. In a soft but decisive shove, John pushed Tala away from him and straightened his back, returning his face to a neutral position. She sucked in a breath, confused, but when the lab door opened, she, too, changed her demeanor. A chill fell over her pretty eyes, and the gleaming life that he’d seen in them just moments before dulled into a grey shadow.
“Arao?” A voice came from the cracked door.
“Mm,” she feigned distraction, tapping on her datapad, “Oh, yes?”
“Are you running the update? Simmons told me it wouldn’t be ready for launch until Thursday night.”
The man let himself into the lab, but he lingered by the door. He was afraid of John. The stench of his anxiety flooded John’s senses, putrid and sickly.
“It’s not the update,” Tala lied, “I’m just patching these old files. What do you need, Monroe?”
John hadn’t met Monroe before, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to remember him even if he had. The man was every bit as forgettable as a range target. His skin was tanned, his eyes a matching color, and his hair was thinning and drab. He was a young man, but he was not well-muscled. A runner, John guessed, by the slowness of his heart beats and by the expensive trainers he was wearing beneath his scrubs.
“Uh, well,” Monroe spoke a little too quietly, holding back some truth. John’s ears perked up, but he stayed stock-still, trying to be every bit the machine that they assumed. The man tried on a smile, “Simmons and Khan are heading down to the pinks to get a pint or two, and we were wondering… well, I was wondering if –”
“I really need to finish this,” Tala shook her pad a bit, communicating her impatience mildly, giving Monroe a half-hearted shrug.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” He asked, stepping a little closer to her, his eyes now fixed on John’s unmoving form. “I can call the night guard down.”
“What? No,” Tala waived him off, “John’s not dangerous.”
Monroe let out a hiss coded with disbelief,
“Yeah, right. That thing’s a war machine. The T-25s still don’t have shit on this prototype. Heard it took out an entire C-block of raiders just three weeks ago.”
It was two C-blocks and a comms tower, but John didn’t open his mouth to correct him.
“He,” Tala chided, “Not it.”
“Mm… He? You spend too much time with the droids, Arao. The man he used to be is long gone,” Monroe kept his eyes on John for a moment longer, but he didn’t dare take a step closer. Instead, he sighed, and he retreated towards the lab door, “You sure about that drink?”
“I’m sure.” Her words were final, and they had a crisp, sharp edge to them. Her patience was wearing thin.
Monroe gave her an awkward sort of smile and closed the lab door behind him, his footsteps disappearing back down the long corridor.
She waited until she couldn’t hear him anymore before she spoke.
“John, I’m so sor–”
He put his hand up,
“Please. It’s alright.”
“It’s not,” Tala stepped closer to him, but her soft familiarity was tucked away, replaced with a professional veneer.
“He’s not wrong,” John tried to press his lips into a smile but he wasn’t sure if it worked.
“He is,” she insisted, “You’re still a man, John.”
“No heart. No bones.” John scoffed, “Barely anything left of this old brain. What else is there?”
A hard, heavy silence settled around them, but Tala didn’t retreat like her coworker had done, and in the air, John couldn’t smell fear. He only breathed in her warm, gourmandic scent, devouring her with every sensory receptor but his mouth. He dared to imagine the joy of that, too.
“Your soul,” Tala said. Her voice was so steady and clear, like she had been stating a fact instead of a fantasy.
He couldn’t help but laugh at that. But, he was quickly silenced when she put her datapad down on the desk and stepped back between his legs, placing her hands on either side of his face, one palm on his synthetic skin and the other on the gleaming titanium of his eye socket. He became mute, as if she was controlling him, rewriting his code with her touch. She looked into his eyes, one blue and one silver, studying him like an unsolved calculation. He could see the glow of the oils on her creamy, olive skin, the shine of the light against her black lashes, that writhing pink tongue as she spoke…
“When I kissed you, you kissed me back.”
“Yeah, I did,” John said, matching her low timbre.
“Why?”
Another beat of silence stretched between them like an elastic band, reaching and reaching and reaching between each second, each thud of her heart in her ribs, until it threatened to pop.
“Because I wanted to,” he repeated her own words back to her.
“Androids do not want,” she ran her thumbs over his eyes, forcing him to flutter his lids closed. Then, she brought both of them down to his jaw, tracing the frame of his robotic skeleton until she found his full mouth, settling both of her fingertips against his bottom lip. “Men do.”
John felt his hand reach for her neck, wrapping itself around her nape, cradling her spine in his palm. He brought her forward and took her mouth against his, and as he did, he realized that he hadn’t wanted anything in a very, very long time.
She kissed him back, but he pulled away, his mind working out the puzzle on his own,
“The patch…” He said, talking to her in a hushed whisper, their noses brushing against each other at their tips.
She was breathing hard, and he could smell her arousal, now. It was like a drug.
“I didn’t…” She shook her head, “I didn’t add the second half of the update. I blocked it. I revoked the sensory inhibitor.”
“Did they –”
“No,” she bit her lip, her eyes glassy, almost to the point of tears, “No, they don’t know.”
“If they find out…” John furrowed his brow, worried about the repercussions she must be facing if she were discovered tampering with Knightfall’s objectives. They might kill her.
She shrugged, smiling, rubbing her hands down his chest and arms reverently,
“You deserve to want things. You deserve a choice.”
She kissed him again, but it was chaste. Her lips sealed themselves against his so briefly, and then, she was gone. John followed her with his eyes as she backed away from him,
“I’ve got to turn in this report.” She retreated another step, almost as if to stop herself from touching him again. She shook her head and looked over at her computer screen, “They won’t find the code. You can, though. It’s a new partition. When you go into combat, you can turn it off. Avoid the pain. But, at least now, you get to decide what you feel.”
“Thank you, Tala,” John said earnestly, wishing she would come closer, wondering why he was so desperate for her touch again.
“You’re welcome, John.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
It was two days before he saw her again. He’d been sent on a mission into the F-quadrant of the city. Warehouse district. Smugglers were bringing in illegal bio-upgrades, selling them on the black market to slavers and debt collectors. Neuro-chips that would turn a human being into a mindless husk. Bio-jacking, they called it. Fifty thousand credits for a week “offline” was enough to tempt the city’s most desperate urchins. But, whether they ever came back from their trip was another story.
John was happy to kill such monsters. They weren’t easy prey, though. He’d kept his sensory inhibitor offline, and when the jagged blade of a smuggler’s knife dragged its way across his ribs, he had cried out. It had surprised the greasy criminal to hear it. Robots didn’t scream. The lowlife even took a moment to check his blade for blood before Price reached out and crushed his skull. There was plenty of blood, then.
He could’ve switched off his perception filter, or perhaps reach his mind into Tala’s partition to turn off the pain, but he didn’t. In fact, he burrowed into his gear vest with his opposite hand and pressed on the new wound. His fingers touched wires and metal plating, and the agony he felt was sensational. His mind reeled from it. His musculature tensed up. His silicone flesh was on fire. It was torment. But, he didn’t take his hand away. For a long time, he just stood there, experiencing pain and letting it wash over him like a fever.
He kept the pain online for the rest of his infil, even during combat, experiencing pain like a real soldier for the first time in years.
By the time the mission was done, he made his way back towards the base. But, instead of heading up to the lab for repairs, he took a long detour through the old part of the city. There were still familiar buildings here, and although war had destroyed most of what he could remember, the architecture in this sector gave him a sense of nostalgia that comforted him. He traced his path cautiously, stepping out of the view of the cameras and drone scanners that watched the streets. John had clearance, but he didn’t want to be followed. Not here.
He stopped at a shady little food stall, the smell of vinegar and spices wafting over him, reminding him that he should not arrive to his destination empty-handed. The tiny chef was elderly and hunched, but she was loud enough, asking him for his order without any other greeting.
“Chicken?” She raised an eyebrow at him. It was a test; he knew better.
He shook his head,
“Pork. Two. And a half-pound of the bulaklak.”
There hadn’t been real, breathing chickens in almost a decade, and he wasn’t interested in the lab-grown alternative. Wild pigs, though, were invasive and abundant.
“40 credits,” she smiled, “30 if you pay cash.”
“No cash,” he shook his head, holding out his palm for her to scan his implant.
Her smile twisted into a frown, but as she bagged up his meal, she thanked him before disappearing back into the dark kitchen, flapping the plastic curtain closed behind her.
Eventually, he saw Tala’s apartment. Her light was on. A golden glow framed her curtained window, and although the black, starless sky was spitting rain, he could see her shadow flickering in the lamplight. He scaled the stairs, and when he made it to her floor, he waited in the hall, checking to make sure no one had seen him approach. Then, he found her door.
Apartment 2882.
He knocked.
John could hear her stirring inside of her small abode. She stopped all movements. He couldn’t even hear her breathe. She was scared. So, he called out just loud enough for her to hear him through the thin panel.
“Tala, it’s me.”
Then, movement. Footsteps. Keys rattling into locks. Bolts scraping. The door creaked open,
“John?”
“Hi,” he smiled, “Sorry, love. Is this a bad time?”
Her eyes were wide, and he noticed that she was in a thin silk slip beneath her fluffy pink robe. Her slippers were cats, their little ears folding in on themselves.
“Um,” he watched the blush spread across her nose as she opened the door wider, “No, no. It’s fine. Come in.”
She helped him inside, taking the bags of food and his jacket. It was a chaos of fabric and shuffling in the foyer. Then, she padded into the kitchen, opening the cartons of what he had brought for her.
“Oh, my God. Is this what I think it is?”
“Pork adobo. You like that place on the corner, right?”
“And you got the chicharon?” The next sound out of her mouth was one of decadent yearning, and although she had meant it for the food, John’s mind immediately wanted to hear that moan in a different context.
“Wait,” she seemed to shake herself out of her trance, “What are you doing here? You’re on mission.”
“Finished,” John smiled, but as he went to sit down at her small countertop bar, he winced, the cut on his ribs in desperate need of repair.
“John,” she rushed to his side, pulling up his shirt without any hesitation or pretense of modesty, and when she saw the damage, she gasped, “Fuck. You didn’t… You kept the inhibitor on? Why? Here, let me get my pad. I’ll turn it off for you.” Her face twisted with worry, and he almost felt bad about it. But, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.
“No,” he reached out and caught her wrist in his enormous hand, “Don’t turn it off.”
“What? Why?” Her eyes were wide with worry, and she was distracted by his admission. So much so that she didn’t notice her robe slipping down her back, revealing wide swaths of bare skin to him. Her entire shoulder and nape were on full display, her skin freshly bathed and moisturized, gleaming like polished bronze.
“I…” John wasn’t sure if it was the whole truth, but he confessed to her anyway, “I want to feel.”
“Pain?”
“Everything.”
She ran her hand through her hair, damp from her bath, slicked back and away from her delicate face. She sighed,
“Let me get my repair kit. One second,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.
He heard her rummaging around in there, and she came out with a small grey box in her hand. She popped it open, and told him,
“Take off your shirt.”
John chuckled at her commanding tone. She was dressed like a pink teddy, but her tone was that of a drill sergeant.
She turned a deeper shade, the blush barely visible in her tanned cheeks, but it was there all the same, and she laughed at herself with him,
“Sorry. I mean… take off your shirt, please. Sorry.”
“No harm done, love,” John obeyed, tucking his finger just under her chin as he settled back into his seat, “You can order me around whenever you like.”
Her eyes darted up to his, catching his flirting and letting it swirl around her. But, she was back to business when she saw his cut.
“Shit, this is bad. Must’ve hurt like hell…”
“It did.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to turn on the inhibitor? This won’t feel good.” She was concerned for him, but he nodded,
“I know. Get on with it.”
She set to work. It wasn’t quite like stitching, but it was a familiar sort of ache. As she closed his wound, he focused on her breathing, the little soft puffs of air that skated across his chest as she worked. Her heart kept him company, and although her scent was soapy and clean, he could still smell her. Her apartment was soaked in her natural odor, and he wanted to roll himself up in it, like a hound in the fresh cut grass.
“There,” she sighed, putting the finishing touches on his repair, “All set. You got cut all the way down to the titanium plating. What happened?”
“Smugglers. Nasty bunch,” John gave her a half smile.
She stared down at his now-mended side, and she asked him,
“What… What did it feel like? Was it –”
“Awful? Yes,” he nodded, “It was. It was hot and sharp. I could feel the teeth of the blade catch on the frame, just here.” He grabbed her hand in his and touched her fingertips to his ribs, pressing down into them, matching the knife’s path.
When he released her fingers, she didn’t move her hand away. She kept touching him, feeling each rib like she was counting them, making sure they were all in place. She moved up, almost to his broad pec muscle, and then she flattened her hand across his bare chest, burying her fingers in the dense hair that had been put there, mimicking his lost, mammalian form.
There they were, juxtaposed in her yolk-yellow room, both of them washed in that ochre light; him - metal and circuits, her - flesh and terry cloth. Both of them wanting.
“Why did you come here, John?” She whispered, keeping some sort of secret in her own house.
“Because I wanted to,” he purred, sweeping her hair out of her eyes, “I want you, Tala. I want you so fuckin’ much, I can feel it, right here,” John pulled her hand to his sternum, pressing his palm against the back of her hand, sealing her against him. “You… You woke me up from…” He couldn’t find the words, “A dream? From death? But when I’m with you, I’m alive.”
She looked up at him, and at first, he worried that he had taken things too far. He wondered if his new-found sensory overload had made him illogical and odd. Perhaps something was wrong in him, now. Perhaps –
“I want you, too.”
John ached to kiss her again. But, she stepped away from him, just out of his reach. Then, he watched her kick off her ridiculous slippers. At first, he was amused, but when he saw her heavy robe melt down her back and pool on the floor, he became gravely serious. Now, between him and Tala’s fully nude body, there was only a thin, pink slip.
In his mind, her heartbeat was racing. His onboard computer was calculating the rate, but none of that made sense to him, now. Her heat, concentrated at her mouth, under her arms and her breasts, between her legs… Her breaths rushing through her lungs as she was practically panting for him. All of her scents; the heady arousal that she concealed from him, too faint for her to know it was there. But, for him, it was all at the forefront of his brain, ready to be catalogued, studied, consumed.
He stood, and he took a single step towards her. John dwarfed the short woman, standing more than a foot above her in his combat boots. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and expectant. Of what, he couldn’t be sure. But, he wanted to see her naked, and unless she wanted to stop him, that’s what he would have.
John’s hands came up to her shoulders, and he lay them across the straps. Slowly, he dragged them down her arms until her slip was only held up by the soft swell of her breast. And when she exhaled, it fell, encircling her feet like a pale, pink pool.
Then, her deft fingers reached for him, touching his belly, tracing their path down to his canvas trousers and belt, pulling at the buckle. John knew that he was already hard for her. He’d chosen to be. It was all subroutine now. He could turn it on or off, just like any other process. A machine.
They’d given him a new cock after the accident, almost as a joke. He’d been large as a man, but they’d made him bigger, laughing at how frightened the enemy would be if they caught him naked somewhere. Said they’d make him scary from head to toe, prick included.
He could come, too. The technicians had been proud of that little stunt. Even gave him some heavy, round balls to hang between his legs, but they were full of synthetic seed. It wasn’t real. Just silicone lube, cloudy and white, a mockery of nature. John could run the process on his own, but he’d never felt the need to jerk himself off. He hadn’t been able to get aroused. At least… not until now.
Desire had returned, and he no longer wondered how men had flung themselves into ancient, hopeless wars to rescue the woman they loved. Their motivation was clear to him. Crystal. The whole city could burst through her tiny apartment door right now, and John would kill them all without hesitation. She was everything. He didn’t have lungs, but she was his breath. He didn’t have blood, but she was his heart. He wasn’t sure about a soul, but he was sure that she held it within her breast, keeping it safe for him until - one day - he might need it again.
John almost stopped her when she got to his zipper, the shame creeping up his neck and into his face. He didn’t want this to be a farce. Some madman’s invention of what sex should be now that he was all wires and bolts. He wanted her to have the real him, but that wasn’t something he could give her anymore.
He swallowed out of reflex rather than need, fretting over what she would uncover as she peeled down his fly. As he emerged, she gently pulled him out of his pants, and she looked up at him, smiling a bit,
“John...”
“Yeah,” he replied dumbly.
She glanced up at him, and then her eyes fell back to his cock, staring at him with that palpable curiosity that he loved to watch her experience,
“I’ve never seen you hard before.”
“You don’t need to…”
“Can I?” She asked, giving his cock a few exploratory pumps in her hand, sending bursts of sensation through his system, “I want to make you feel good.”
Who was he to deny her? He watched as Tala massaged his rigid length, and every smooth squeeze of her hand was like its own blinding crescendo of tactile sensation. John reached out to steady himself against the counter, and the wood popped under the pressure of his grip. Then, to his surprise, she knelt down in front of him and engulfed his cockhead in her soft mouth.
“Mngh,” he grunted, swaying a bit from the overloaded sensation.
The curve of her tongue, the glassy smoothness of the inside of her lip, the wet, cloying heat of her saliva; all of it was like a drug to him, and he wanted more.
“Were you this big… before?” She asked, licking him underneath his shaft, marveling at his immense prick.
John scoffed, but he smiled, gently petting his hands through her soft hair,
“Not quite, love.”
“I think you were,” she gave him a blazing look through her half-closed eyes, taking him in and out of her mouth, suckling at his tip like she was hungry for him. “And I think you know how to use it.”
“It’s been…” She took him deeper, and he gasped, cutting off his words, feeling the tight clench of her hot throat, “Umngff… Fuck… It’s been a bloody long time.”
She looked up at him with that intoxicating gleam in her eye, the one that told him she was up to something.
“Can you feel this?”
One of her hands held his prick up and out of the way, her fist rubbing tantalizing circles around his glans while her head dipped lower between his legs, that deft tongue curving around his balls, sucking one of them inside her lips.
“Tala…” He whispered her name, choking back a soft whimper.
“Mm?” She didn’t take him out of her mouth, but that questioning hum reverberated through his body like a lustful tremor, making him nearly lose his balance.
“Tala,” he whined, his fingers twisting through her wet hair, “Please…”
Her soft, satisfied giggle taunted him, and all he could think about was how his cock would feel buried between those plump thighs of hers. Bliss.
John grabbed her wrists in each of his hands and hauled her up with ease. She weighed nothing to him. Tala squealed, enjoying being manhandled by her powerful android, knowing she had lit a fuse to his fire and reveling in her power. He lifted her body just a bit further until her feet were off the ground, and he set her on the kitchen stool. She laughed, gleeful, and tried to steady herself on her perch, reaching her arms around his waist, rubbing her hands across the small of his back, daring to sink her fingernails into him just so, bringing him that pain that he had been seeking.
Tala didn’t seem hung up on the fact that parts of him were inhuman. He had silicone panels and titanium plating where his builders hadn’t bothered to put any synthetic flesh. He had symbols and serial numbers left behind from his reconstructions and deconstructions. He wasn’t poorly made, but he wasn’t a thing of beauty. Other than his musculature and his cock, the engineers hadn’t created him for show. But, his pretty little scientist took no pause at his appearance. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it all before. John knew she had inspected him, even replaced certain bits and pieces from time to time. But, she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t avoid his metallic body. The soft kisses she was planting on his belly and chest skated right over the rips and tears that exposed his cables. Tala knew that he wasn’t going to hurt her. With her, he was finally himself.
He wasn’t Bravo-6 with her. He was John Price, again.
John knelt, bending his head between her thighs, breathing in her scent like an addict. His computer fed him information as if he wanted to know the exact chemical makeup of her gleaming come – and honestly, he did – but that wasn’t his priority now. John needed to touch her. He planted his lips over her soft petals, and the feeling of them touching his synthetic skin made his mind go blank. All the noise and digital read outs were silenced by the feeling of her softest parts against his mouth, and it took him a moment to even move from that initial touch.
When he licked her, she whined in a high-pitch keen. Her cry ended in a delightful sigh, and John knew that he would do anything to hear that exact melody again. He reached up to fondle her tits, marveling at the beauty of her body, shocked by just how responsive she was for him. But, he kept getting distracted by how sensitive his mouth was. He could feel the body of her clit filling with blood, catching a fever as he suckled at its delicate hood, becoming turgid against his top lip as it swelled. His tongue could feel every pulsing heartbeat that came from her smooth clit, and so he let it throb upon the tip of his slick muscle, reveling in each pounding surge from her veins. He could feel the silky texture of her inner labia, sucking at her quim to experience the way it would slip and slide into his mouth, tasting her in clear, unmuddled precision.
“John! Oh, fuck…” She trembled for him, “Fuck… Just like that…”
He repeated the motions with his lips and mouth in the exact way he had just done, watching her with wide, adoring eyes as she lost control of herself above him.
“Don’t! Anghhh… Don’t… Don’t stop…”
He wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, he didn’t need to breathe. If she wanted him to, he could stay down here in the dark heaven between her legs for a hundred years. And fuck, did he want to.
“Mmmnngh…” John moaned.
How strange, he thought. He didn’t choose to make that sound. These automatic noises of desire were the first that he had heard from himself in half a century. Did he even consciously make the sound? Where did it come from? His computer, or from him?
“Yes! John, yes. I’m – Fuck! I’m coming… I’m – nngh,” Tala froze. All of her muscles tightened at once, but that delicious cunt of hers beat against his mouth like a wardrum, harder and harder, drooling with his synthetic saliva and her shining come.
As she tumbled over the crest of her orgasm, her legs began to violently shake. She tried to close them around his head, against her will, he knew. But, it was still enough to drive him mad with desire.
“Mmmmfff…” A breathy sigh escaped his lips. John kissed her pussy as if he was kissing her gentle mouth, “Good girl.” He kissed her again, slurping up her sweetness and painting her come across his tongue, “Mmm, so good. So fuckin’ good…”
“Nnghh! Ah! Fuck,” Tala screamed for him, “John! Please, please, please…”
John smiled. He couldn’t help it. He was enjoying this beyond measure. Between his legs, he could feel his cock jerk up against his belly, but he couldn’t touch himself. It would be too much. Just the thought of feeling her wicked heat surrounding him made his entire system lag. His fingers pressed against the pliant, soft edge of her cunt, and he reveled in her immediate reaction.
“Hhh! Please…” She gasped.
“You want me to touch you, love?” John teased her, using just the tip of his forefinger to delve his way inside.
“Please! John,” Tala fisted his hair, pulling hard, burning his nerves. He basked in the pain.
“You feel so good on my mouth…” He confessed, slanting his lips over her clit again, working her in the same hypnotic rhythm. At the same time, he pressed his thick finger deeper inside of her, going slowly, trying to be gentle, urging himself to ignore the still-human part of his brain that wanted him to replace his hand with his sex.
He tried to be careful. John still wasn't sure of his strength and the limitation of his power even after all these years. What did he know? It may be boundless. He had crushed steel beams, he'd killed a man just from the squeeze of his titanium fist, breaking his neck like a twig, but he had rarely needed to be delicate. Fury was all he was good for. For love? How could a weapon be useful in love?
So, he steadied his hand. He watched her every move, listening to her body as she throbbed for him, her enchanting movements, those sweet, desperate mewls of bliss. He wanted to make sure she felt safe with him. That he was not dangerous, even though that was a lie.
Tala’s hand snaked through his scalp, no longer tugging at his hair but massaging him, scraping her nails gently along his roots, and he thought he saw stars for a moment. Then, she began to talk to him, speaking through low groans of pleasure as he suckled at her velvet mound.
“Can you… can you feel it? All of it?” She asked, barely able to look at him without her legs trembling with need.
“Mm hm,” John responded, but he didn’t abandon his meal. He didn’t want to let go of the silken prize between his lips.
“Do you think… I jus– oh, God… mmghff… I wanna make you come, John. Is that… Can you?” Her voice was so sweet and full of careful wishing. The innocence of it, her salacious generosity, stuck him like a knife in his belly. He didn’t deserve such kindness.
“I’ve – hh! Anhh,” she stopped, wrenching her eyes shut as if she couldn’t bare to tell him her secrets anymore.
He pulled away, but just barely, to ask her in a low tone,
“What? Tell me.”
She peered down at him, her body gleaming with a delicate sheen of sweat, and she looked away as she spoke, unable to meet his gaze as she gave her confession,
“I’ve wondered about it for a long time…”
“About making me come?” John couldn’t help but let out a deep, resonant chuckle.
He stood up, positioning himself between her thighs, letting his engineered phallus rest in the cleave of her pussy lips, rocking himself slowly back and forth to tease himself and her.
Tala nodded, still unable to look at him. So, he reached out, taking her by the chin, and slowly brought her eyes up to his,
“Is that something you want, love?”
“If I can have it,” she whispered. Slowly, as if she was afraid she might scare him off, Tala reached down between her legs to play with him, holding him around his fat shaft and dragging him across her clit. “Is it… possible… for you?”
She looked so worried about her questioning, as if she might offend him. It was like asking a gun if it would mind firing a bullet. He wasn’t used to being asked for anything rather than being ordered.
“Physically, yes. They thought I would,” Price paused, searching for the way to say it, trying not to be distracted by how incredible it felt for her to use him like a toy, rubbing his cockhead through her lips and over her clit to bring herself pleasure, “...need it, perhaps. Or, to them, rebuilding a man required his prick, even if he’s not a man anymore.”
“Do you want to come inside of me?” She asked, practically doe-eyed, her voice making him feel practically drunk with power.
“Fuck yes,” he thrust his hips forward, rocking her back on her stool, dragging his cock over her mons and onto her belly, making a point to show her just how he might achieve his goal.
“Please, John,” she begged, writhing her plush form beneath him.
Price wanted to laugh. Or to scream. It was ludicrous to think that this gorgeous woman would be pleading with him for something that he was more than ready to give her. She thought she had to ask for his cock? That she might be denied?
It was a ridiculous concept to him. Just the fact that she had allowed him to see her naked flesh, that he’d even been invited to kiss her sweet mouth. It was unbearable. And he was more than willing to do her bidding.
If she wanted to carry his false seed in her womb, to be bred with a simulacra of what she truly deserved, her body warping her mind with potent pleasure until she ached be bred, to be round with his child as her biology so craved, he would fill her until she was sated. No matter that he was sterile. No matter that he may not even be alive anymore. No matter if he could never give her rope after rope of his sticky genes. He would try. God, he would try. After all, he was made to serve.
John peered down between her thighs and took his cock from her hands, missing her touch already. But, the moment that the tip of his swollen prick touched her quim, the entire world disappeared. Nothing else existed, and if it did, it didn’t matter anymore. The feeling of her fire against his aching rod was unbelievable.
Even when he was blood and bone, sex had never felt like this. And he’d barely even begun to experience her. This was but a chaste brush with her blooming entrance. How would he be able to sink himself inside of her soaking, molten core and survive it?
He caught himself, gripping her hip with his free hand hard enough to make her gasp. He let go at once, apologizing through his clenched jaw,
“Fuck. Sorry… You feel way too fuckin’ good.”
“Mnughhh… Holy shit…” Her eyes were locked on where their bodies were joining together, watching his cock stretch out her soft hole, “You are huge.”
“Tell me,” Price gasped, feeling her heartbeat slamming against his glans, beating against him like a dove’s downy wings, “Ahnh! Fff– Tell me if I need… to stop…”
A desperate whimper escaped from his throat, and he tried to keep himself from falling apart in front of her, but it was no use. His hand shook as he tried to press himself further inside. The sensation was too much. He could barely concentrate. His onboard computer seemed at a loss for programming, unable to reconcile the sensory overload.
“Mmnnnn –” John whined, panting hard, his body remembering back to a time where he would have needed that breath, “So soft… I can feel you… All of you… Everything… Mnnhh… mnngh… Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck…” If he had any shame, he should've felt it by now, crying for her like a spoiled mutt, taking and yet wanting more.
“It's okay… I can take it,” Tala murmured, misunderstanding his struggles. He was not being chivalrous; John was consumed. She sighed from the pressure of him, using her hands to hold onto his hips, dragging him forward, impaling herself with his cock inch by incredible inch.
Price lunged forward, his arms wrapping around her body, knocking over the wooden stool with a loud bang. She gasped, but she didn’t try to escape his grip. He held her against his chest so tight, crushing her to him as if she might fall away like sand though his fingers. John let his face fall to her nape, his eyes and nose surrounded by her sleek black hair, breathing in her scent and ever so carefully easing her body down onto his stiff cock.
But still, she couldn't fit him inside. He felt the tension, and he heard her let out a quiet hiss of pain. She was trying to hide it from him, unwilling to show weakness, but it was no use. He could feel and hear everything. At this point, he was sure he could feel the goddamn earth moving beneath his feet. She couldn't conceal anything from him.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed, trying to comfort her even though he was beside himself, “Don't rush, love. Don't rush. I don't wanna hurt you.”
Tala pulled back so that she could kiss him, her arms looped over his shoulders, her lithe fingers caressing the nape of his neck,
“I want you inside me.” She spoke into his mouth, breaking the kiss, “All of you.”
John returned her kiss, silencing her with his long tongue, stuffing her palate full of his writhing appendage. Then, he carried her over to what he assumed was her bedroom, front-kicking the door with a deafening slam. She held him tighter around his shoulders, deepening their kiss, moving her mouth down to his jaw and neck to suck on his sensitive skin.
He got lucky, and when he saw her mattress, the duvet a plush thickness, the fabric a cool, lilac color, he laid her down, making sure he didn't hurt her further. All of his movements were carefully planned as his conscious seemed to cut in and out, the feeling of his fat prick being smothered in her sultry heat becoming too much to bear.
John placed her back onto the soft bedding before anchoring himself with his arms on either side of her head, holding his weight off of her, trying not to crush her ribs.
“Oh, fuck,” she smiled, “I feel like I'm gonna come just from this. There's,” she canted her hips, sliding him out just a bit before trying to seal him back in, “...so much of you.”
John kissed her again, his mouth dragging over hers, keeping her from saying things like that. Things that would make his body want to take control over his mind, that would make him want to rut into her like a feral boar, pumping his cock inside her with no regard for her gentility.
She let him take her mouth, loosening her lips and jaw for him, basically sucking his tongue like she had done with his cock, allowing him to explore her cheeks and throat with abandon.
“Tala… What have you done to me?” John asked breathlessly.
“Does it feel good, baby?” Tala kissed his cheek, watching as Price put his lips around her tight nipple, sucking at her with his whole mouth, “I just wanted you to feel…”
“I can't… hhhfff-fuck,” Price let out another whimper, louder this time. His noises were getting more reckless, “Bloody hell, I need to move. Don't wanna hurt you…”
“Hurt me,” Tala grabbed him around the jaw, shocking him into opening his eyes and peering down at her.
Her hair had fallen around her head in a dark halo, eclipsing her, making her look like a saint. The Patron Saint of Lost Causes. He would absolve himself in her, he decided, and may she bless him in turn. May she anoint him with the heady oil that covered him from her dripping font. He wished he could remember how to pray.
John rocked his hips forward, bullying his length through her tight muscles, stretching her wide and taut so that he could fit. He crashed his pubic mound against hers, burying himself deep inside, knowing that he had sinned the moment that he could feel the tip of his phallus brush against the cradle of her womb.
He turned to her in a panic, and although her mouth had opened wide in a silent scream, her big brown eyes held a bright expression like she had been baptized in his painful fire. Her muscles seized, she trembled beneath him, and inside of her poor cunt, her come flowed around him, thick and sticky, easing his path.
But, he didn't fuck himself through her pleasure, no matter how badly he wanted to. He let her breathe, giving her time to come down from her high, kissing her perfect tits, nuzzling against her neck, whispering encouragement to her,
“Yes, love. Come for me just like that. Just like that…”
Instead of a high whine, a dark, rumbling groan echoed in her chest, low and gravelly; deeply primal. Her body was trying to flood her core, knowing that she would need help to take him, fortifying itself for the siege that it instinctively knew was on its way.
John tried to focus, but she was twisting around him like a warm, wet fist, stroking him inside of her belly as she came.
He was going to black out.
For a fleeting moment, he thought about opening the partition firewall that she had built for him. He could reach inside and switch it off. He could make it good for her; fuck what he wanted. Fuck his bloody pleasure. She was all that mattered, anyway.
But her little whims, those pleading eyes that told him she just wanted him to feel… He couldn't take that joy from her. Tala had given him his humanity back, and he refused to waste her blessing.
“Are you alright?” He purred, wiping a hand over her brow before he planted his lips there.
“Yeah,” she nodded, breathless and weak beneath him, “Your cock makes me feel so full inside.”
She snaked her hand between their bodies and reached down, splaying her first and middle fingers into a vee before capturing his thick base in between them, cupping her sex as she explored their coupling, discovering the way that he had displaced her flesh just so that he could fit so snugly within her.
“Breathe for me, love,” John began to pull himself out. His retreat was agony. The loss of her tight, devouring heat was terrible. Then, when he couldn't stand being outside of her much more, he pressed himself back inside, and he began to fuck her in long, slow strokes, worried that his titanium and steel and strength would bruise her vulnerable body.
Each time his cock filled her quim, John could feel every part of her inner walls. The entrance was smooth and glassy, tight. As he pressed deeper, he could sense soft ridges, ever so slightly textured. At her end, his cock arched inside of her, and there was her cervical head, within his reach, touching his drooling tip with a barely-there kiss, like the wing of a butterfly fluttering across his glans. All of this was enhanced by her creamy slick. She was so messy for him, dripping her honey all over his prick. And the heat. He felt like he would burn alive inside of her, and nothing would bring him closer to ecstasy than that molten demise. Finally, every time her heart pounded, and every time her muscles clenched around him, her flexing core pulled against him as if to milk him of his prize.
Tala had been moaning for him, but now that he was humping his length deep inside of her, she was screaming. Her tone was deep and lush, animalistic and needy. She bit down on his shoulder, raked her nails across his back, dug her fingers into his enormous arms, holding onto him for dear life. Everything she did for him - her sounds, her touch, her heat, her scent - all of it was being poured into a sensory overload inside of his mind. He thought of nothing else but her repeated pleasure. Physically, he could fuck her for as long as she wanted him to. He could fill her up with his artificial spend as many times as she asked him to. He never wanted this to end, and if she didn’t ask him to stop, he would fuck her until she did.
“Mmnghh… Fuck yes, John… Just like that,” Tala breathed in panting gasps against his chest, her eyes gleaming with pleasure, “You’re gonna… Oh, fuck… Gonna make me come again…”
“Come. Fuck, come on me, love,” John snarled, his jaw tight as he worked his body for her, “Take what you need from me.”
“John, I can’t… Aanhh! I need…” Tala’s thighs wrapped around his thick waist, her hips tilting towards him, reaching for an angle.
Price knew what she needed. He lifted himself out of missionary position to sit back on his knees, holding her by her hips as he continued to pound himself into her. Then, he began to move her entire form along the length of his prick, using her like a toy, like she was his cocksleeve, destined to have his load buried deep inside of her over and over. His mechanical strength allowed him to take control in this way, letting her body curve into a high arch, giving her that new, untouched depth that she craved.
Her screams became desperate, haunting things. John bathed himself in them like it was a concerto, an opus written just for him. Every moaning whine that he let out of his throat contributed to her keening song, and he found himself matching her vocality stroke for stroke.
“Nngh! Ngh! Ahngh!” She began to come on him, fisting his cock with her core muscles, wrapping herself around him like a tendril from a vine. He kept his pace, her spine bowing as John held her aloft from the mattress. He thought he was in the clear, that he would be able to keep his head and remain in charge of these relentless waves of savage need. Until –
“Come in me, John! Please! Mmnghff-fuck! Fuck! I need your come… Please, come in me.”
Ever the faithful soldier, he did as she asked. He let the bliss build up in his mind, using his mounting senses to overload his system. But, this time his tight-laced control slipped free, and he felt his balls tightening between his thighs.
“Tala…” John whimpered, breathing out his words so quietly that she could barely hear them, “Ohhh… Fuck, I’m gonna come. Holy shit.”
For the first time in decades, John felt himself tumble over the edge of a powerful orgasm. His whole body tensed up, and he could see stars bursting in the edges of his gaze, sparking in the darkness as he looked down at his beautiful muse, rolling through her own electric high. And when he finally released his first hot rope of come, the synthetic lubricant filled Tala’s plush quim, surrounding his prick in silken fluidity, allowing him to slip freely as his hips bent to shamelessly hump his length as deep as it would reach. In the back of his mind, he imagined that he could fill her womb with something real, something ancient and true. But, it was just a dream. She would be full besides, and that’s what mattered.
The problem was, he didn’t want to stop. Now that the proverbial flood gates had been opened, the pleasure was blindingly good, and he was a slave to it. The more he came inside of her, the harder she seemed to squeeze him from within, and so he had very little motivation to be conservative.
“Yes! Fuck, yes,” Tala cried out, locking her ankles around his waist, “Fill me up just like that. I want it, I want it… So bad… Oh, my fucking God. Anngh! Ahhhmmm–more. Please-please-please…”
John bent himself over her like a rutting bull, burying his face in her neck so that he could suck and bite at the tender flesh beneath her ear. His cock leaked, pumping bolts of heavy lube deep into her belly. Too much. Way too much.
By the time he realized what he had done, he cut himself off, shutting down his movements entirely, raising himself up to inspect her. Had he gone too far? Did he hurt her? Panic flooded through his veins, fighting to break through the soporific pleasure that had clouded his judgement.
“Goddamnit, love. I’m… Fuck, I’m sorry. I… Did I hurt you?” John asked, looking down at his lover’s swollen quim.
Her lower abdomen was slightly distended, and when he began to remove his fat cock from her, she began to gush all over his prick and balls. It coated her thighs, and it pooled on her soft duvet. She was stuffed full of him, and her plump belly was rounded with his false seed.
She saw him looking at his mistake, and he met her eyes, trying to come up with a way to apologize appropriately for something that he took great pleasure in doing. He tried to regret it, but that felt too much like a lie.
“Oh, my God,” she cooed, her hands touching her mons and cradling her full tummy, “This feels incredible. I feel so full of you.”
“I couldn’t…” No, don’t lie to her, you bastard - John thought, correcting himself, “I didn’t want to bloody stop.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she grinned, pulling him down into a long, writhing kiss. “Do you think…” She looked a little sheepish, her lips curling into a shy smile, “Would you want to go again? I mean, if you can, that is.”
John chuckled, kissing her cheek, moving his mouth to her breasts to worship her there as he positioned himself back at her used hole,
“Darlin’, I’m an android. I don’t need rest. You’d fuckin’ starve to death before I needed to stop for any possible reason.”
Slowly, but with a defined certainty, John pushed himself back inside of her as he suckled at her nipple, watching her face so that he could revel in her experience, slipping joyfully through his own, very sloppy seconds.
She sighed, smiling, spreading her legs wider for him, opening herself up like a gift,
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
John grinned, kissing her softly on her lips as he sank himself inside of her fully, groaning,
“Mmff-fuck… Yeah, love. I want you. I’ll be wanting you forever.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Thanks for reading! Don't forget to check out the rest of the collab, and make sure to share the love to the amazing @auberghyn! <3
