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There have been a lot of adjustments to make now that Rhys is traveling Pandora with Fiona and Sasha. In general Rhys he thinks he's done well for himself. He's the sort of guy who hits the ground running in a new situation, always had been. Even the incredibly dramatic decrease in his standard of living hasn't entirely kept him down.
His cybernetics are the hardest part, but one of his first jobs had been to set up a relationship with a supply dealer who had a solid stock of Hyperion-branded parts left over or salvaged from Helios's crash. He manages his upkeep pretty well by himself.
Unfortunately, the usual standards for maintenance apparently weren't established for people spending all their time on a planet full of dust and grit and ancient Dahl-branded showers. The first issue Rhys runs into is when he gets his hands on a much-overdue firmware upgrade. It could be a worse issue. But it's hard to imagine a more embarrassing one. Almost a half an hour struggling futilely with a screwdriver in the cramped caravan bathroom brings him to enough despair that he considers options he would not have previously put on the table.
Unfortunately, his options are limited. Limited to approximately two, in fact. It's a ridiculous way to be confronted with how little infrastructure he has now, how few people he can reliably turn to, but it certainly makes it sink in.
He decides on Fiona. Sasha is out working on rounding up a job today, so it's just them. Sasha would be a more... emotionally charged, let's say... choice, anyway. Fiona might laugh her ass off, but she can probably get the job done without it being weird. More than immediately weird.
"Fiona," Rhys says, drawing out her name casually. "I have a favor to ask."
Fiona tilts her hat up to look at him from her sprawl on the couch. "Wow, why does that sound ominous?"
"No! It's nothing bad! Mostly!" Maybe Rhys should have rehearsed this better. "I just, uh, need your help with doing some work on my cybernetics."
Fiona blinks. "What could you possibly want my help with?"
"Don't worry, I'm not asking you for your technical aptitude." Rhys crosses his arms, and Fiona rolls her eyes. "It's just, uh. There's a compartment I can't get open, the seal is gummed up or something. Because of... where it is... it's hard for me to get good leverage by itself."
Fiona shrugs and stands up. "Sure, that sounds easy enough. What am I looking at?"
She's looking at his shoulder, of course. Now comes the really awkward part.
"Well, that's the thing. It's, uh, not my arm. Or my eye!" Fiona just raises an eyebrow at him. "You see, uh. I have... some more southerly cybernetics? More private parts?" He definitely should have rehearsed this better.
"Oh my god you have a cyborg dick." Fiona says, dead-eyed. And then, after a moment: "You have a cyborg dick and you want me to help you upgrade it. Oh my god."
Rhys blanches. "No! ...Well, I mean, yes, but I just. I just need you to take this screwdriver and help me get the data compartment open. It's definitely going to be awkward. Full disclosure. But I don't have anyone else to ask." He ends on a more serious tone than he means to, and the silence that falls after that as Fiona considers him is conspicuously heavy. "I trust you," he says, mostly to fill it, but that sounds even more somber. He makes a face.
"...Yeah, whatever." Fiona says with a shrug, after another moment. "I've done worse things. Let's just lay a towel down." She goes to fetch one. Rhys exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Of course, now they actually have to do it.
Fiona grins as she turns back to him after laying the towel out. "Okay, pants off, pretty boy."
"I was just getting to that." Rhys says haltingly. "I don't need you to tell me, alright?"
It's weird to unfasten his pants in the middle of the caravan, but there's no point in going elsewhere when Fiona's about to see everything anyway. So he takes off his shoes, though not his socks—his feet might get cold—and after a moment of hesitation, manages to pull down his pants and boxer-briefs.
He can feel Fiona's gaze roaming curiously even if he avoids looking meeting her eyes. Like his arm, his dick doesn't make any attempt to look like normal human flesh. The actual shaft has a blue-gray sheath on it that's soft and pliable and capable of higher nerve density, but most of his groin is brushed metal, the mount and the nerve hookups set deep into his body. It's not just an attachment, it's part of him.
And, of course, there's his tattoo, blue lines curving over his hip and down his leg. It's that which Fiona's eyes are following when he finally looks at her. He can't read her expression.
Probably fortunately, she doesn't make any comments, just quirks her eyebrow when their eyes meet. "So?"
"Okay," Rhys says, and then coughs, trying to compose himself normally. "There's a door to a compartment on the underside. I'll need you to get the cover off, and then hold it open while you plug in this." Rhys presents her a standard data drive along with a flat-head screwdriver.
"Why can't you just hack it with your eye or whatever?" Fiona asks, offhand, as she takes the tools.
"Firmware installations have to be done manually for security reasons," Rhys responds almost automatically.
"Firmware, huh?" Fiona snorts.
"That's not—that's just what it's called, it means..." Rhys takes in the look on Fiona's face and gives up. "Never mind." He goes over to sit sideways on the couch, on top of Fiona's carefully positioned towel. "Nothing about this should actually need the towel, for the record."
"Better safe than sorry," Fiona says, and comes over by his knees.
"Sure." He swallows, and then spreads his legs wide and lifts his hips. The angle for this is really bad. But it was even worse trying to do it on his own. Below his dick, where his balls would be, is a slightly bulging curved metal compartment. To access the internals there's a door that should just slide open when pressure is applied at the right angle, with a fingernail or something. But he hasn't opened it in a while, and it's clearly jammed. While he thought of any number of jury-rigged solutions to avoid asking for help with this, he really doesn't want to end up jamming a screwdriver forcefully into any important circuits.
"Okay. Just stick the head of the screwdriver here," He slides a hand down to indicate the slight indent where it needs to go, right by where the metal meets the skin of his perineum, as Fiona leans in to look with a grimace. "And push hard upward from the back. Not really hard!" Best to qualify. Fiona jamming a screwdriver forcefully into important circuits would be even worse. "Just enough that the door slides open. Then keep it like that and plug in the drive."
"Right. I've got this." Fiona settles half on the couch between his legs, holding the screwdriver like a torch. Rhys tries to remind himself this is the best possible solution.
She slots the head of the screwdriver into its slot carefully, and then comes the familiar exercise of trying to find the right angle to push it in. He'd managed that much a few times himself, but it meant holding the handle of the screwdriver down so low between his legs that his grip was too weak to do anything with it. Fiona finds the right way to do it in a few seconds, and then before he can even say anything, gives a quick jab that makes the stuck compartment snap open. Rhys exhales a breath of intense relief. "Great. That's great."
"What is even going on down here?" Fiona says, still casual, feeling over the rest of the surface of the metal with her free hand. "Is this a button?"
"Don't—" Rhys says, half sitting up, but it's too late. Fiona's finger is already depressing it.
His dick immediately swells, sensation jumping up his spine as the telescoping joints expand and curves upward.
"Don't just push random buttons, oh my god!" Rhys yells belatedly, a little high-pitched from the rush of arousal.
Fiona jumps back a few inches, wide-eyed, dropping the screwdriver. The data compartment shuts again. "Why do you even have a button that does that?"
"Why do you think I have a button that does that?! Come on." Rhys groans. "I mean, it works normally too, but sometimes—you know—it has extra functionality..." He's suddenly very much not in the right frame of mind for this, the stimulation from his erect cock making his heart beat faster and his skin heat.
"Well, how do I turn it off?" At least Fiona doesn't seem to be put off much.
But. "You can't turn it off. How terrible would it be to hit that button accidentally? I've just gotta... calm down." Rhys says, rubbing his metal hand over his face and trying to breathe.
Fiona sits back. "Okay, so calm down."
"I am working on it!" Rhys snaps. For some reason it's not as easy as it should be to calm his arousal, even humiliatingly half-naked with Fiona staring down at him with one eyebrow raised like she's judging him. His erection doesn't fade at all as she watches him for a minute, and eventually he has to close his eyes.
"Ugh, whatever, let's just do it and get it over with, this is weird," Fiona says after a moment longer of that. "I just have to plug this in, right?"
"Uh." Rhys says, opening his eyes back up to see her picking up the data drive. "Yes. Just... hold the latch open and plug it in."
"Right, okay." Fiona says, scrunching her eyebrows and sliding the screwdriver back into place. The data hatch pops open. She's looks like she's taking this part seriously, at least.
Rhys watches with held breath as Fiona moves to plug in the drive. Somehow Rhys has never felt like plugging in a drive to that data port was quite this suggestive, but it's hard to imagine how, now, as Fiona slides the narrow metal rod between his legs with obvious concentration. Rhys can't directly feel the jack sliding into the port—it's not wired for nerves, so he only gets faint vibrations from the scratch of metal on metal as she finds the right angle. Even that is strangely intense, and there's an ache low in his groin. His dick doesn't get any less hard.
It's the moment before Fiona finally slots the jack fully into its position that he faintly remembers reading something in a manual—reading and then mentally discarding, the way you do with warnings to not operate your toaster near a bathtub. Do not install firmware upgrades while prosthesis is erect.
"Fiona, wai—" is as far as he gets, half-croaked, before it's too late again. The drive is plugged in.
Fortunately it doesn't explode or electrocute him or anything. His vision blanks out for a moment and his body shivers, not because of anything happening to his body itself. It's all sensation from his dick, if you can call it sensation. It's like he's feeling every possible feeling from it at once, contact, pain and pleasure, heat and cold, and like every part of it is swelling and receding. It doesn't last long, though, and when he can see again Fiona is frantically pulling the data drive back out.
"Rhys? Rhys!"
"I'm fine!" He gasps out, and then looks down at himself to make sure that's true. His dick does look fine. It's still erect, though perhaps leaning less to the side now, and slightly more curved. "I'm fine. That did it, though I don't think you're really supposed to do it when I'm. Well."
"Right," Fiona says heavily, brushing her hair away from her face. She looks like she was actually worried for him for a moment. Then she leans forward and—runs her fingers up the curved underside of his shaft, which sends sparks of pleasure through him, slightly intense and unfamiliar, though he can't tell if that's the firmware upgrade, the aftermath of the burst of sensation, or just... Fiona touching him like that. "Looks good. I like the shape."
Rhys groans. "You like the shape?"
"Hey, that's a compliment. I've owned toys before, obviously, I know what I like." Fiona says it as if a casual comment, but the idea of his dick being a good shape to, presumably, feel good inside her, makes Rhys think about his dick inside Fiona, and he doesn't come up with more than a vaguely strangled noise in response. Fiona. This is Fiona.
"You're really finding this sexy, huh?" Fiona says with a tiny smirk, curling her fingers around the base of his shaft.
"Well! Fiona!" Rhys says in a rush of breath. "You see, that's reasonable, since now you have your hand wrapped around my hard cock, which means. This is sex. This is sex that's happening now." It's meant to warn her off, but somehow his tone doesn't come out entirely discouraging.
Fiona snorts. "Is it? Because I'm not getting anything out of it." She doesn't move her hand.
"Is that right? You seem like you're having fun to me," Rhys retorts. And then he actually looks at Fiona and sees that that's true. She's grinning, complexion bright, eyes sharp as she looks down at him.
She looks incredibly sexy. That's really unfair.
"You know, I am, actually." Fiona removes her hand from him, and Rhys is resigning himself to an entirely unforeseen level of teasing when for some reason she starts to unbuckle her coat and shrug it off.
"Fiona?" Rhys' voice wobbles slightly.
"I think," Fiona starts, and her voice has lost some steadiness too, gained that tone she has when she really has no idea what she's doing and is just playing things by ear, "I think maybe I shouldn't have agreed to do this just out of the goodness of my heart." She undoes the first button of her shirt. "Wanna give me a tuneup too?"
Rhys just stares. "What?"
Fiona stares back with her hand on her second button. "Sex, Rhys. I mean sex. You get me off, I'll get you off, it'll be fun. Probably."
"N-No, yes, I got that. I just, that was a terrible line. And do you really—are you sure—" Rhys breaks off when Fiona resumes stripping again. He sits up more, careful of his still aching and stiff erection.
"Yeah," she says when she's bare from the waist up. "I'm sure. How about you, Rhys?"
Fiona looks really good shirtless. Really good. She has a light dusting of scars across her shoulders, the muscles of her arms are defined, the swell of her breasts draw his eye. She grins wider as she sees him looking.
"Sure. Yes. Okay. We can have sex, that sounds good," He says before he's really conscious of having made the decision. It does sound good, though. Really shockingly good, and he's pretty sure it's not just because his dick is hard and he hasn't done this in a while.
"Okay," Fiona says, pulling off her pants. "Then lie back."
"What?" Rhys says again, dumbly, and doesn't actually manage to comply before she's naked, hands on his shoulders, firmly pinning them back against the cushions before climbing on top of him. She's ignoring his dick for now, straddling high on his chest, and he's getting a much closer look at Fiona's crotch than he had ever imagined doing or wanting to, her dark thatch of pubic hair a few inches from his face. Fair turnaround, he supposes. He can smell her, like this, a faint warm musk that makes his body heat more than it already was.
He rallies, pulling his arms up around enough to massage her thighs and her hips. "So you want a tuneup, huh?" It doesn't count as a terrible line if he's just following her lead.
"I doubt you have much technical aptitude," Fiona says, grinning and sliding forward into his hands, "but you can probably manage that much, right?"
"Hey now," Rhys frowns. "I would bet you a lot of money that I have more experience with this than you do with cybernetics." He strokes his flesh fingers down the curve of her hip, inward toward her crotch.
"You don't have a lot of money," Fiona says, which is true. Unfortunately. "So I guess you'll just have to prove it."
"At least I'm not going to fumble around pushing random buttons," Rhys grumbles. "Not! Not that I'm complaining. And I can push the good buttons."
"Uh-huh. We'll see, hotshot." Fiona sighs, but it's a little breathy as his fingers slide between her folds, petting gently. She's a little damp already. His dick throbs, but he makes a point of taking his time anyway, feeling her out, not really trying for anything yet, just exploring curiously, like she had. He absorbs what she looks like, both down here and in general, from this angle, her solid thighs trapping him and her back arching a little as she presses against his fingers encouragingly. He thumbs lightly over the hood of her clit, and she groans.
"You can use your other hand too, you know," Fiona says, after a moment, and Rhys looks at his metal hand, motionless on her hip. "...You know, carefully," she qualifies.
"Right. Sure." Fiona shifts her hips more, and he spreads her wide with both hands before rubbing gently at her clit with his metal thumb this time. Fiona's gasp is harsh and rough and it makes him groan a little in return.
"God, yeah, just like that. Do that a little more, and then I'll make you use your mouth." Fiona growls as he does it again, steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," Rhys says, weakly. "I thought I was proving myself? Who's in charge here?" He regrets putting it like that almost as soon as he says it.
"Oh, that is definitely me," Fiona says as she rocks against his hands, and Rhys can't disagree.
Fiona is thoroughly wet by the time she finally breaks, fluids making his metal fingers slide easily, her breath coming hard and fast, and Rhys is flushed and almost dizzy with arousal. She moves again, to sit her hips down fully against his face, and he holds her there, spread wide so his tongue can reach her easily. The scent of her cunt fills his nose and he moans low in his throat before settling in.
It has been a while, and it certainly wasn't quite like this, but Rhys does have a not insignificant amount of experience with women. And, to be honest, Fiona makes it easy. She's good at talking, telling him when he's doing what she likes. She's worked up enough now that he quickly focuses his attention into sharp, firm licks, and then she shortly stops giving more feedback than curses and moans, her thighs trembling around him and her hand sinking into his hair.
"Shit, yeah, that's great, keep doing that, Rhys," Fiona says, grinding hard down against his mouth one last time before she shudders hard, fingers pulling almost painfully at his hair. Rhys makes a muffled protest against her. His whole lower jaw is wet, and it's a little hard to breathe. But she moves back after a few moments, panting, sitting back on her thighs.
"Good enough?" He grins and wipes her fluids from his mouth, his voice rough. He rubs his hands dry on the towel beneath him. That was a good idea after all.
"Yeah, that was pretty good." Fiona says, breathless and sincere. It sounds amazing on her. "But you're not quite done yet, right?"
"Uh," is all Rhys manages before Fiona scoots back more on the couch, wrapping her hand around his dick much more confidently this time. It's probably good they'd left it alone for a while, honestly; the staticky oversensitivity has faded some, and his breath catches.
"I wanna feel what you can do with this too." Fiona's grinning again.
"Well, good, because it's gonna knock your socks off," Rhys says, breathlessly. "—not that they aren't already off," unlike his, god, he still has his socks on— "but you'll really—"
He doesn't get to finish whatever really good speech he had there, because Fiona is already settling on top of him, the tip of his shaft teasing at her entrance, and that already feels like a lot, the firmware update has definitely done something, but it's something good, for sure.
"Yeah, I think I'll just see for myself," Fiona says, low and aroused, and then she sinks down on him, his dick sliding in easily, the wet heat inside her lighting up his electronic nerves.
"Holy shit, Fiona," Rhys yelps, as she continues moving until she's completely down on him, and rocks her hips against him gently.
"Yeeaaaah, that's a nice shape," she moans, and Rhys just stares up at her, overwhelmed with pleasure and shock. Her lips quirk up as she looks down at him. "Is that all you can do?"
"N-No, that's not. It's not all I can do," Rhys manages, and lifts his hands from away from the couch to her hips. Since she seemed to like it before, he caresses up her side with his metal hand, cupping her breast and thumbing her nipple. Her weight sitting down on him is too much for him to effectively thrust, but he still lifts his hips experimentally.
Fiona grinds back down against him, making it extremely hard to focus. But he's got to show off, so he flicks on his ECHOeye as he watches her. In its display he can see the precise position of his shaft inside her, which by itself is hot enough that his breath catches. But his goal is something else, and as the angle of it shifts as Fiona rocks on top of him, he watches her reactions. On one shallow thrust he thinks he's got it. The head of his cock presses against the soft wall of her vagina, and she grunts and trembles before trying to repeat the same motion.
There, then. Some quick calculations show that he needs it to be a little shorter, a little more curved. And he can do that from here. He accesses his dick's systems and makes the changes.
Fiona finally notices his eye lit up as she glances at his face, her own eyes wide and dark. "What are you do—" She breaks off in a moan that might be the sexiest and most satisfying sound Rhys has ever heard as his dick curves inside her, rubbing immediately back across the same spot. "D-Damn, Rhys."
"Not bad, right?" He says, and it had better not be bad, because he's so dizzy with arousal now he doesn't think he's going to be able to make more adjustments.
"Not bad at all," Fiona says, huskily, and then she finally lifts her hips enough that he slides mostly out of her, and then moves back down in a single stroke that hits her at the end of it in exactly the same way, and he can see her tremble. "Fuck."
"Yeah," is all Rhys manages, because she's moving again. He lets his ECHOeye go dark so he can watch her normally, her thighs flexing as she rides him. The sparks of sensation shooting through him build up until they're almost too much again. He feels like he could come any second, and yet not, like he's just submerged in the feeling but not going anywhere. Eventually it starts to feel hard to breathe.
He's pulled slightly out of his reverie when Fiona's movements get more erratic, not lifting far off off him, just moving her hips in quick and needy grinds, and then she stops, gasping and shuddering violently, at the bottom of one of her motions, his dick pressed hard inside her. He then notices that he's been clutching her hard with both hands, his metal fingers digging in a way that has to have been painful, though Fiona certainly didn't complain. He manages to summon enough conscientiousness to loosen his grip.
Fiona doesn't stop for long, though, moving steadily on him again after a few moments. She's breathing hard, sweat sticking her bangs to her face. "Do you—does that thing come?"
"Y-Yes," Rhys answers, flushed with embarrassment in addition to arousal. "Yeah, of course, I just—I think I just need a little more—'
Fiona apparently takes that as immediate encouragement, and sets a steady rhythm again. Rhys just lets her ride him helplessly. Fortunately it doesn't take long after that for him to be right; he can finally feel his arousal cresting, and he makes a few abortive thrusts of his hips before he is coming, his cock pulsing and spilling the fluid it stores in reservoirs just for this purpose. Fiona makes a sound that's half a gasp and half a laugh, which is the only thing he's really conscious of as his senses black out with pleasure.
When he manages to see again, he's still hard inside Fiona, and she's resumed moving on him in small motions. Another shudder wracks her body, an aftershock or another orgasm, Rhys isn't sure, and she eventually stills.
His dick still isn't softening, though, even as he struggles to calm his breath.
"Uh," Rhys says, overcome with a sudden spike of panic that they'd somehow broken something with the upgrade, that he's going to be stuck like this, that he'll have to go around with a constant hard-on until they figure out how to fix it or find someone on Pandora who works with cybernetics who he trusts to not break him or infect him with something terrible, which seems basically impossible.
"Is it... supposed to do that?" Fiona asks, still sunk down on him to the hilt and trembling.
"N-No, it—wait, yes!" Rhys says with a rush of relief. "T-The override's still on, I just have to—" He slides his hand down between them to the button Fiona had hit earlier. It's recessed slightly, and the metal is now completely slick with Fiona's fluids, but he presses it fine. The effect isn't immediate, but he can feel the release as he's no longer stuck in erect mode. Gradually, the metal joints start to relax and collapse. His hand brushes across Fiona's crotch on the way back out, and she groans like she's so oversensitive that even that is a lot.
She very carefully lifts herself off of him once his dick is soft enough to slip gently out of her. "Thought you said that wasn't how that worked."
"It, it isn't, it's not like it shuts off, it just, lets me not be on. It's sticky now, the upgrade changed that behavior, I forgot. Please do not give me shit for that right now," Rhys says as he collapses back against the cushions in exhaustion, his dick finally settling back down limply.
"Fine, no shit. That was actually pretty great," Fiona says, getting to her feet and stretching, and he finds himself staring at her again. Her legs actually look a little shaky. That really just happened. And she's right, it was great.
"It was pretty great, huh?" He manages to sit up enough to grin at her, and in the process suddenly becomes more acutely aware of exactly how they both look. They very obviously just had a lot of intense sex. "Uh. We should probably get cleaned up, though."
"Yeahhhhh. Good thing I put down that towel, huh?" Fiona grins back at him, crossing her arms, and Fiona standing naked in the caravan after like three orgasms also has to be one of the sexiest things he's ever seen. Somehow.
"Yes, you're a genius." Rhys rolls his eyes, but he can't even manage sarcasm properly right now. Fiona reaches down to tug him by the collar, and he rises from the couch with effort.
They are probably going to have to figure out something to say to Sasha later. Unless they keep this a secret forever and never do it again, but both parts of that seem like a terrible idea, even if Rhys still has no idea what's going on.
They can probably just wing it. It will be fine.