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We held each other until the storm subsided. At least in the feed.
Reaching down to the emotional marrow of each other’s memories had occupied most of his processing capabilities and a respectable part of mine. The intensity of the whole thing had been entirely unexpected, and I’m not sure we could’ve shared as much if it had been entirely intentional.
Strengthening my grip on reality, I found myself still draped over him. The flat metal augments on his back pressed against my front, which would’ve been an unwanted feeling of physical contact no more than a year ago, now a strangely reassuring presence, an assurance of existence.
If there was anything left to say, it was beyond me to think it up right then, so I pinged him. A quiet, acknowledging thing. He pinged back, muffled not by my body on his, but by the way I’d let my feed presence into his augments and crowded him in there as well.
Right, time to untangle. I pushed myself up slowly, at the same time I retreated and let him have the space back in his own head.
I felt the small, barely there flicker of despair as our bodies separated. Careful to calibrate the amount of weight I laid on him, I moved my hips back and sat, lightly, where the back of his thighs met his backside. Settling there for a second before using my knees to lift myself up and get off him, when I heard a quiet vocalization.
His face was pressed against the bed, but I knew what I heard.
The surprise cut me off mid-move, and I hovered, touching but no longer resting any weight on him.
Gurathin?
He pinged me and left it at that.
Right. What the fuck?
I placed my hands on the bed on either side of his torso, leaning forward to check on him and taking advantage of the space as his forearms rested by his head. As soon as the bed dipped under me and my weight shifted, I became aware of two very distinctive sensations.
The first was a slight tremor in the feed, like the movements on Ratthi’s instrument when he swiped at the metal strings to play his tunes. I was fully out of his augments by now, edges barely touching, yet the vibration carried over easily. It was an involuntary response, and that made it better.
The second was far more physical. As my knees dug further into the mattress, his hips thrust forward against the bed. It was a swift, blink and you’ll miss it sort of movement. What did he not get? SecUnit here. Even on his best days there was little he could hide from me.
Which is a convoluted way to say he tried to fuck the mattress right under me.
I guess he didn’t exactly get off on whatever we had going on a few minutes ago. But I’d seen his vitals, was familiar with the sharp curve of the graphs and the ascending numbers that often signaled his overload. Hell, I’d even shared whatever my equivalent was.
A quick review of his stats over the last couple of minutes revealed strikingly similar readings. So, the fact that he was still… geared to go, turned on, in the sense humans used the term, was unexpected.
Without thinking, I laid a hand on his lower back, hoping to still him a little as I gave myself a few seconds to think. Gurathin tensed under me, the muscles of his arms contracting minutely, as he perhaps considered lifting himself up but immediately thought better of it.
Good.
My internal processors were slowly crawling back to base readings. The effort cushioned by the quiet hum of satisfaction that usually followed one of our sessions, which, now that I knew he didn’t get off, was kind of weird.
What we did felt good, but I was used to hijacking his augments and getting the aid of his organic release to tip me over into a light, enjoyable shut down. Did this mean I’d gone over on my own?
No, not entirely on my own. I’d seen his readings, and he’d had something go on inside him as well.
Gurathin, are you alright? I knew the answer, but wanted a second opinion.
Fully aware that augmented humans were slow to process information requests, I gave him half the time he would reasonably need, before using the hand I had splayed on his lower back to press his lower abdomen against the mattress.
I’ll consider that a yes. I sent, as he bucked under me and muffled a short, barely there sound against the bed. That wouldn’t do.
Carefully, I lowered myself a little more, locking my joints to secure the very top of his thighs against the mattress, but not enough to provide him any sort of heavy stimulation. Just a light, constant contact against the bed.
We’d been here before. Playing around, feeling each other, mapping our feed presences and finding different ways of making each other feel good. It didn’t always end in blinding pleasure. Sometimes it was quiet contentment and a tingling feeling along my extremities; quiet sighs and a sense of safety we couldn’t hide from each other. Enjoyment that didn’t search for a specific conclusion.
What I mean is, I knew that if I were to get up right now and start some Sanctuary Moon, he’d lay there and watch with me. Perhaps take a shower and come back to keep me silent company. There was no need for me to do anything else, not for his sake anyways.
My mistake was trying to get up and making him shiver under me. His body responding so easily was a trap I wasn’t skilled in avoiding, and though my processors were still overly sensitive, I didn’t see the harm in humoring him a little. All for him, nothing out of my own self interest, of course.
The skin of his right flank was surprisingly smooth, as I ran my palm from below his arm, along his ribs, waist, and the slight softness at his hip, feeling him squirm under me. I’d learned the slightest touch, if wielded correctly, might undo him. So, I treaded carefully; curious but aware.
I retraced the path a few times, hoping to settle him a little, before sliding down and hooking a finger under the edge of his underwear. Running barely the tip of my finger along the line of it, from one side of his hip to the other, I felt him reaching out in the feed.
It wasn’t like I was intentionally keeping a significant distance between us, but I was still a little overwhelmed and needed to come back to myself before sharing in his sensations again. I sent to him as much, metadata heavy with reassurance, and felt him pull away immediately.
Alright? I wanted to make it clear our comms were open, but I needed us to hold back a little in this particular space.
Yes. He sent, acceptance woven heavily through the short word. It made me smile lightly, despite myself, at the mutual need to be understood clearly.
“Good to know,” he said, voice muffled against the bed. “I was about to… reach out.” He was about to tackle the fuck out of me with his gooey organic feelings, is what he meant.
In answer, I pulled his underwear, stretching it a couple of inches, before letting it go. It slapped back, and I pinged him at the same time.
A pretty eloquent response as far as I was concerned.
The expanse of skin before me held too much information, a map of splattered pigment variations and irregularities, so I forced myself to concentrate on the present moment. Absentmindedly, I trailed my open palm up and down his spine, enjoying the sequence of organic skin and flat metal around where most of his vertebra were supposed to be. Thanks to my locked joints, the movement didn’t change the pressure on his hips.
The gleaming inserts were smaller at the top and grew into slightly larger trapezoids near the end of his back. All connected by a thick pink scar, giving the impression of threaded beads. I let myself follow slowly, from just under the line of his underwear to the base of the neck, where the trail ended right under the collar.
On the way back, I paid more attention to the thick scar that connected the structure, enjoying the tactile feeling of a particularly textured line between two metal plates. Thumbing lightly at the warm metal, I rubbed around it’s edges and felt him try to shuffle under me.
It wasn’t until Gurathin gave a soft, happy sound that I realized it was strangely quiet in the room. Other than his breathing and his heart, which I could hear if I focused hard enough, there was something missing.
Ah, the feed.
Not that it made any sound, but the chaos of connecting deeply had a ring to it, and we’d be entangled already, if I wasn’t exhausted. I could still feel him near me, but his reactions were harder to parse when not trying to actively mesh with each other.
The ink-like patterns on his back captivated me for a few seconds, as I made sure to store an excess of data about it to my permanent memory, before the glint of his dispenser augment caught my eye.
I slid my left hand up his side and to the back of his shoulder, flattening him more securely against the bed. With my other hand, I ghosted the pad of a finger against the closed port.
Okay? I sent, because this seemed delicate. I was afraid there were requirements I wasn’t aware of, ways to hurt him I couldn’t prepare for.
If anything, I was way more comfortable with the placement of this one. I’d repeatedly told him having a data port above the collar was a security concern. It was not only visible, but easy to spot with the way it glistened in the lowest of lights and-
Anyway, this one was different. The one behind his ear was a risen ring of metal, this one barely went over the skin. It was thicker too and had a bigger diameter.
Gurathin sent an affirmative ping, shaky and eager. Funny, how so much could be contained in so little. I pinged him back, more out of habit than the need for a response and slid my palm against his sealed augment entrance.
He knew to stop me if he needed to, but he nodded against the bed all the same when I reminded him out loud.
The port had a small, hatchlike cap I twisted open with the slowest possible movement, pulling it out with the scrape of metal against metal. Gurathin held his breath and rubbed his face a little against the sheets.
Anxiety prickled at the surface of my skin. There was no reason to be doing this, I already knew what made him feel good. But self control and a lack of curiosity weren’t what I would call my best attributes. Operational security, however, was. So, I leaned forward and placed the cap on the bedside table, face down to keep it from rolling away. I’d disinfect and polish it later. Ignoring his squirming, I shifted back over him.
It dawned on me all at once, that every time we’d been together in uncharted territory like this, I had a direct connection to him via the feed. And if I felt a little tired, well, at least I needed to know I wasn’t fucking it up.
How did humans do anything with each other without the reassurance of a feed connection?
I lowered my walls a little and could feel him holding himself back to avoid overwhelming me, but not retreating. We leaned lightly against each other, sharing the edges of ourselves, enough to feel each other’s presence. It was reassuring to see him there, a trembling, lightly pulsing organic mess that provoked in me a wave of fondness. All good.
Overly aware of my own strength and assured of his want, I let my finger delicately circle the skin around the port as I looked inside.
Gurathin whimpered, thrusting forwards only once before stopping himself. His feed almost blinked out of the connection for a second with the effort.
Stop moving, I sent, lifting my hands off him and enjoying the way his feed presence quivered in response. To prove my point, I waited a second before grabbing him roughly by the hips and adjusting myself to sit tighter on him, without giving him the reward of the friction he sought.
“Behave.”
That alone made him grab at the sheets and tense the muscles of his back. But he didn’t thrust against the bed, which was close enough.
I lowered my voice, adding a little rumble to it just for fun.
“Good.”
My reward was his sudden intake of breath, a shiver that rushed through his body, into the feed, and brushed against me and my already decreasing self-control. I switched my circling then, from the outer metal to the very edge, where the spiral that helped screw the cap ridged the first half an inch of the entrance.
Gurathin made a soft, confused noise at the intrusion, and I took and sent a picture of my finger at the edge of the port, tip touching the first ridge inside, with the caption: Still okay?
A succession of three affirmative pings came immediately, one after the other, and I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows in surprise. I liked him like this, eager and on his way to eventual incoherence, if I played my cards right.
The metal inside was warmer, and the curved ridges felt almost sharp as I padded inside, meeting a soft silicone hood that fit my finger like a thimble. His breathing and heart rate elevated slightly, yet it was easy to see this port wasn’t as sensitive, nor did it seem to be as conductive, but I was still curious to see what we could do.
Delicately, with my index finger inside and my thumb pressing on the skin of the edge, I pinched lightly, moving the skin against the perimeter of the metal while hooking the one inside against the silicone. The inner cap was as wide as the inside of the cable at the entrance, tapering to a smaller end about an inch and a half inside. The movement was enough to see the cable inside was well secured, and I saw no spike of pain reflected in his vitals, if anything, his numbers kept rising steadily.
Gurathin turned his head to the right, perhaps pressing his face against the mattress wasn’t a sustainable endeavor if he wanted an adequate supply of oxygen. Before he could settle, I grabbed his hair and turned him, so his right cheek was the one resting on the bed. The hitch of his breath and the way he bit his lower lip were reward enough for my quick thinking, as I made sure it was the left side of his neck that was exposed.
Through it, he kept his eyes pressed shut. There was a different sort of freedom here, of looking without being looked at, that was exacerbated by being behind him rather than have him face me. Taking command of his body and feeling him struggle not to come apart under me.
Letting go of his hair and ignoring the quiver of his presence in the feed, I pressed his shoulder into the bed to anchor him and returned my attention to his waist. It was weird, to be aware of his feed yet not be overwhelmed by our shared feelings. It made me feel a little more in control.
There was no way I was removing the inner cap, even if the thought of running a light electric current along the naked inner cable and watching him twitch sounded tempting. Circling the skin of the outside, the metal ring of the entrance, and the ridges at the edge, I could feel him almost vibrating with the effort to keep himself from reaching out to me in the feed. It was strikingly similar to the way he struggled not to touch himself if I told him not to.
Rubbing the shape of a half moon against the edge, I slipped inside. Gurathin shifted his hold on the sheets but otherwise stayed still. The cap was powdery soft, as it pressed against the cable on all sides at the entrance and progressively separated, until it ended in a curved peak at the end. Moving my finger more purposefully, I swirled the malleable silicone around, effectively tugging the thimble shaped cover to rub against the sensitive sides.
Gurathin whined, a small, distressed sound he tried to hold back in vain. I gave him a moment, enough to see his vitals start to stabilize, before starting again. A circular motion as I let my finger go deeper, pushing the soft material against his walls.
Under me, the muscles of his thighs contracted, his legs spreading outwards against mine, trembling with the strain to keep still, to keep himself from rutting a couple of times against the mattress and finishing himself off. We both knew it was all it would take, if he wanted to. Or, more accurately, if he thought that’s what I wanted.
I took a second to lament the fact that there was some space left, but not enough to insert a second finger without possibly hurting him. Instead, I appreciated the satisfaction and surprise that bled through the feed in small, unintentional rivulets. Reaching the end of the cap, my finger inside the thick cable up to the second knuckle, I used the very tip of it to brush the silicone against the inner walls in soft, wide motions. A camera captured his wince, the way he scrambled to find purchase with his feet and found out exactly how unmovable a SecUnit could be. I saved it for later, too focused on the wonder of being inside his body.
In the distance of the feed, I caught hints of the delicate sparks that moved along his body. It made something soften in me; to know the reason for this particular augment and realize I was able to pleasure him with it. That despite the pain behind it, we could build something new together.
I could imagine the shocks going through him, traveling up the cable through his insides, sparks hopping between the metal plates of his spine and up to his brain.
Slowly, and making sure to scrape a nail along the walls, I dragged myself out of him.
Gurathin made a soft sound, accompanied by a message. A garbled, unfocused thing with metadata that spoke only of want: Again?
Look at him, being coherent enough to communicate.
No way was I going to put on a repeat performance if he asked for it. He was probably aware of that, but I found it charming that he dared try.
“No.” I made sure to sound as serious as I could, and he jumped a little at the sudden sound.
“Now, don’t move.” It was as close as my voice modulation got to action buffer without actually activating it. Must’ve been effective enough, as he locked his jaw and braced himself against the mattress.
Without adding any further warning, I used my hold on his shoulder to scratch blunt nails down his back. A slow-going drag, modulating the pressure to lightly brush the risen tissue of his scars, yet press down hard enough to leave angry red streaks on smooth skin.
Gurathin began to tremble beneath me. It worried me for a second. Not that he might be going into shock as I was still aware of his vitals, but that he was trying to stimulate himself against the bed without me noticing. But there was nothing discreet about the jerky little moves, nor were they concentrated specifically around his groin. It appeared that, sensitive as he was, his muscles tensed reflexively as I ran my fingernails over his other side.
The sight would, in any other context, rightfully freak me out. A reminder that humans were meat wraps. Right now, however, it was proof of what I was doing to him. It filled me with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction that revved up my systems all at once into a faintly audible hum.
In the feed, Gurathin’s sensations were like overly loud music in the room next door. I was increasingly aware of his reactions, and it was starting to turn chaotic in a way that made me want to join whatever the hell he had going on over there.
For posterity, I made sure to take the time to angle the corner camera to get the best view of the ribbon-like lines that traversed the map of his back.
It stirred something in me, the evidence of us etched on his skin. Tomorrow, when he carried on with his daily activities, these marks would remain with him. Making tea in the breakroom? Talking to a coworker in the hallway? He’d feel them under his clothes, rubbing against the layers of clothing. Never mind that we’d have our feed connection, this was different.
All at once, I understood why humans write their name on their things, why they mark their possessions. The realization crowded my systems, making me almost dizzy with delight.
Heady with the thought of marking him, I followed up using both hands at the same time; focusing on alternating the pressure and leaving a trail without pulling at the skin where it rose in healing. On the way down, I was careful to scrape along the seams of the augment at his waist, enjoying the minute shakes of his head and muffled groans.
It was all too much. Before my processors had time to flag the behavior as inadvisable, I channeled everything into a word, thick with meaning, repeated endlessly in a bundle of data, and basically chucked it at his head: Mine.
Gurathin inhaled sharply at that, his feed presence almost vibrating around the word.
I didn’t have much time to think about what he’d say. In a way, it felt like sending a message into space. I didn’t need an answer, I just needed the universe to know.
His answer was swift and wordless. A storm of augmented human feelings and sensations that engulfed me. Gurathin kept his distance still, but the message was particularly heavy. It was the warmth he experienced when I upped my body heat as we sat side by side watching media; the small smiles and quiet laughs he shared with me; the conflicting feelings of trying to understand and be understood; the unintentional rush of safety he felt whenever I was near. The understanding that ownership was something I was unfortunately far too familiar with; that the same concept had morphed in his head to a sense of belonging and safety he’d spent his life seeking. It was twisted and weird and so him. I expected him to answer with an echo: mine. Instead, he whispered his answer into the bed as the flow of data unfolded inside me, voice low and fraying at the edges: “Yours.”
The word made my processors stutter, my systems lighting up at the overcompensating surge of power. Shoving away twelve performance alerts, I wondered briefly if this was what he felt when I made him come apart and beg me for release.
Without warning, I slipped my right hand around the back of his neck, cradling the base of his skull, and holding him firmly in place. From this angle, flushed face half pressed into the mattress, I could see his eyes open, glossy and dark, as he glanced back at me. His breathing was a little too fast, heart rate at a running pace.
Keeping my hold on him, I laid the pad of my thumb over the small ring of metal that was his data port, pressing lightly against the outer rim, so it ghosted over the entrance. When he bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, and made a feeble attempt to wriggle from my hold, I sent a barely there surge through his augments. Just a small neural disruption, a wordless call to attention that pulled from him a tiny “Ow”. I was surprised to realize it looped through, from my feed to his, through his body and through his augments, and made a tiny spark where my thumb met his port. Huh. Information saved and flagged for later analysis.
I kept a close eye on his vitals and feed, but Gurathin liked to struggle a little and it was never more obvious than in the way he trembled inside his own augments, feed presence almost unintentionally blinking in and out of our shared network. I didn’t particularly understand it, but enjoyed his fruitless efforts.
I would readily admit (to no one) it was weird. The knowledge that there was nothing he could physically do to stop me was tangled together with the fact that I knew myself to be strong enough to protect him. It reached somewhere deep in my code, despite the surface difference between shielding and restraining him, and lit up the same feedback of success at a job well done.
Rubbing my thumb into the delicate ring of metal, I said “If you move, I will stop.”
Then, for good measure, I leaned forward, ignoring the way my weight shifting affected him, until my face was close to his. “Whatever you do,” I whispered against his ear, making sure to brush my lips against the delicate shell of it, “Don’t let go.”
Before he had time to send or speak an acknowledgment, and more out of a need to make him lose his self control than anything more coherent, I pressed my own hips down. A rolling motion that hooked me where the top of his thighs met his backside, and pressed his genitals into the mattress as I pushed his face down.
Gurathin half stifled a cry, mouth open and wet against the sheets, as my grip on his neck kept him flat, my other hand digging into the fleshy part of his hip. The sound went right through my processors and made a shiver shoot through my organics, my fingers contracting in unintentional answer.
Our faces were close enough for me to feel his ragged breaths. I took the opportunity to brush my lips against the back of his ear, mouthing dryly at the lobe and dragging from him quiet, stuttering sounds that were all consonants. I saved the audio and tagged it to show him later; whenever I wanted to work him up with a reminder of the things I could do to him.
Mostly, I’d kept only a light, barely there pressure on his port; letting him know I was there yet doing nothing to pleasure him. Even as I gave him what he thought he wanted with a thrust, I managed to deny him what he actually needed. My thumb against his port a reminder of what I could do but chose not to.
So, I did it again. Rolled my hips down against him, quick and as coordinated as I could manage. Gurathin was louder this time, a high, keening noise as his body jerked. Unintentionally, I pressed his head down a little more, his voice pulling at my insides, as he twisted his hips forwards in a helpless search for friction. His knuckles were white where he fisted the sheets.
To have this level of control over his body made me lose myself in an overwhelming sensation of power. It made clear what we both already knew: if he was getting off, it was on my actions alone.
Without thinking, I broke whatever hold I had on myself and pounced on his feed. Whatever I didn’t want before, I wanted it now. I needed it.
Gurathin’s feed access was laid bare and unguarded, making it easy to pour myself into his augments. To say he welcomed me like we’d been apart for ages was an understatement.
It was a raw sort of entrance, where we usually danced slowly around each other, the push and pull of a connection strengthening as our bodies did their own thing, this was the opposite. Sudden. The burst of a dam, the blast of a weapon.
All at once, he hit me back with the data of what we’d been doing. A barrage of desire and maddening attempts to keep himself away from me. Desperation so thick it slowed my processor as it hit, making me freeze for a second as I focused my energy parsing through the data.
Impulsively, I probed into his nerve centers and, for a second, experienced nothing but his organic euphoria. Every point of contact between us lit up my nervous system and confused the fuck out of my systems. It knew I lacked the exact way to interpret the inputs and in doing it’s best to translate, tied itself in knots.
It was a mistake, letting my fingers dig a bruising hold into the flesh of his hip, as his body transformed the pain of it into small, thrilling collisions in the feed that pulled me further under. His presence reaching to steady itself against me and releasing sharp shocks that went straight to tense the circuits along my extremities, the feedback loop almost knocking me unconscious as it shocked my muscles into action.
I did it again, a few times in quick succession. A rolling movement where my strength went away from me a little, jerking against him with force enough that the movement knocked the headboard loudly against the wall in tandem with his sobs, wet and ripped from his throat.
Gurathin’s frantic rutting and small whimpers made me heady, my performance reliability rising and falling, meaning nothing to me; his organic responses pulling me towards a common goal.
For the briefest of moments, I was thankful to be a construct, as I realized self-control was now beyond him and I needed to intervene before he went over the edge. As fast as I could, I made my move to stop him.
In the feed, our boundaries overlapping, I poured myself even more inside his augments, holding him against his own edges and feeling him tense around me. Pulling me further in, letting me stretch and mold him as I left him only the most necessary space inside himself. The further I crowded him, the more malleable his presence became.
My insistent pressure stopped his gooey, organic brain from lighting up his pleasure centers completely. I was familiar with the sensation, the build of tension just before the release, and I needed to stop it.
At the same time, I slid my hand from the hip I’d surely bruised, over his front and to the other side, to secure my forearm around his lower abdomen, and lifted him up mid-thrust.
My hold suspended his genitals above the bed, his backside flush against my groin and my arm about an inch away from where his underwear strained to contain him. At least according to the nearest camera and some wild guessing. This way, his spine curved sharply down, ending where my hand pinned his head against the mattress.
The camera input overwhelmed me for a second, as I made sure to backup all the data, and backup it’s backup. Seeing him like this, pliant and secure in my grip, made my insides warm and the muscles of my arms tighten.
I let out a soft exhale and leaned back a little, widening the space between my knees for better stability and securing my hold on him, trying to give my processor time to catch up and recover from getting a little too close to overloading. Gurathin’s feed presence was sending out staticky sort of bundled up words; short, pleading things that accompanied his soft, fading whimpers and his rhythm-less thrusting against nothing.
Just as I thought he was calming down a little, he moaned in frustration, finding purchase with his fists against the mattress and squirming to get himself up, to perhaps slip upwards and buck his hips against my arm.
Good on him for trying.
It was a twin sort of effort, as he tried to grab at me in the feed, the way one would hold on to someone to keep themselves from sinking. A desperate, clawing sensation that only let me inside him further as I tried my best to keep from being pulled down along with him.
To help him calm down, I removed my thumb from his data port and let it rest instead at the rim, rubbing a little at the nearby skin to help his nerves get worked up over a different area, but keeping his head securely down.
I was mesmerized by the line of his spine, the glint of the metal and the arch of his backside as it curved towards the tense muscles of his bare thighs. It was so good my first instinct was to keep it to myself, but I thought better of it at the last second, and selected what image looked best at first glance and sent it.
The sharp intake of breath was signal enough that he got a good look.
Gurathin let out a sad little sob, a string of please: overcrowded chains of the word hitting against my processor like drops of water, bursting upon contact and evaporating in the heat. Pleading in body and mind, every way he knew how.
His performance didn’t quite make me smile, but close enough.
I pet around his data port lazily, taking the time to caress the area around it, the seam of his ear, the tender skin of the lobe, and the spotted skin where the augment lay. To increase my precision, I let go of his head and pressed it down instead only with the left over of my palm and a couple of fingers, leaving the first three free to play with him. He wouldn’t move, anyways.
Confident in my new position, I used my index to rub at the upper edge, closest to his hairline, and felt him tense all over again. Gurathin was wound tight by now, almost ready to snap, but I wanted him tighter.
I could feel his quickened pulse under the skin, as I alternated the soft pad and the scrape of my nail in a half moon motion around the rim. A slow, meticulous tracing of the outer edge in a concentric circle as he writhed, swallowing small, high-pitched sounds. Without giving him time to adjust, I let the pad of my finger explore the flat metal of the door and enjoyed the way he jerked his hips at the contact.
The tiny, almost imperceptible ridges that secured it split the small, smooth circle into three parts. The plug was warm, and I upped the sensitivity in my hand to feel up the minute ridges where all three sides of the door met. It took me a couple of seconds to realize his whimpers turned into a single, pleading word, again and again: More.
Sure. Eventually. His begging made me take my time. Soft, gentle motions as I explored the outer side walls as they rose, the dip as the metal edges turned into the port entrance. Pulling back, letting him stew in his eagerness a little, then starting again.
It was inevitable. By the time I scratched and pressed at it a couple of times, thumb rubbing at the outer skin, I knew what was coming.
The sound wasn’t strong enough for me to hear over the rustling of the bedding pressed in his shaking fists and his panting breath, but I imagined it all the same: a quiet almost imperceptible slide of metal, as the heated inside bared itself.
I could feel him melting in the feed, the structure of his digital signature fracturing as I rummaged around his systems. This was the other side of the coin. The stimulation his body had no natural pathways to interpret and so did it’s best, turning it into a straight shot to the pleasure centers of his brain, and unintentionally letting it bleed a little into the pain response pathways as well.
I leaned down again, keeping a hold of his middle and covering him with my body, as I moved to fist my hand in his hair and pulled, just enough that I felt the burn of it through the feed as I bared his throat. His legs tried to find purchase against the bed, but there was no way he’d be able to move me. Gurathin knew this, yet tried still.
When I brushed my lips against the edge of his open port, right where metal split skin, I was pleasantly surprised at the heat of it. My lips were sensitive, all of me was, by then, and the silky skin and unyielding metal was a magnificent contrast.
He shuddered dazedly under me when I nibbled at the edges, lips teasing at the skin, at the rim, as I pressed them on one side and sucked a little. Just a tease, enough for him to jerk in surprise and remember I was holding him by the hair. There was no escaping. Mouthing at him like this, my bottom lip rested between skin and metal, and the top grazed the very edge of the open entrance, the heat of him inviting me to get inside.
Using as much self-control as I had left, I kissed the open port, a feather-light touch, and pulled back. Gurathin whined as I nuzzled into his neck, close but not quite reaching the port. It took the use of a well-placed camera to realize he was drooling a little on the sheets. That was new.
“What do you want?” It helped sometimes to give me the extra confidence to keep going. Sometimes I just wanted to mess with him. More often than not, it was a convenient combination of both.
Gurathin squirmed and mumbled incoherently.
“Words.”
Please. Please u-
“You’re a mess in there,” I whispered against his neck, not making a move, barely a point of contact between us. I could discern the words well enough, even with the chaos of sensation that was our feed connection, but I wanted him to crave it out loud. Clearly.
“Use your voice, Gurathin.”
“Please,” he said. He swallowed and licked his lips, stealing a quick sideways glance at me before pressing his eyes closed again. “Please. If you c- if you wan-“
“If I don’t want to, I won’t do it.” I said plainly. He knew this, but right now, it was a helpful reminder for both of us.
“What do you want?” I made sure to whisper against his data port, what little breath I let out ghosting over the open heat of him and making him shiver.
“Your tongue,” he managed, breathless. “Please.”
Right, I was going to do it anyways, but it felt good to hear him beg for it. To give him some things and deny him others, to play around until we slotted just right into each other, physically or in the feed.
“I knew you could say it.” I whispered, brushing my lips against his open door. I had no exact media reference to pull from, so I just said what I knew to be true. And because I couldn’t stop myself and wanted him to know, I added, “You’re so good like this.”
Before he had time to react, I licked his port, invisible sparks burning against the flat of my tongue. Gurathin gasped, whole body jerking against the stillness of mine, as a flash of lightning speared us both and made me pull harder at his hair.
I felt him tremble against me, a whole-body affair as I spread further inside him. Tendrils reaching to the farthest corners of his augment code and burrowing in every available corner. There was still a little space to fill, and I was eager to be as thorough as possible.
Mouthing at the ring, I slid my tongue inside him and relished in the shock. My circuits lit up, a frazzling excitement that narrowed my focus as the current flowed between our bodies. I felt him tremble under me, hips twitching erratically.
I'd seen electricity jumping and running along a metal fence before, down the taunt length of a cable. It was usually dangerous and best avoided. Yet I swore I could feel that same erratic energy inside me. A spark coming alive, dancing and cracking along the metal mesh under my skin, lighting and flashing and burning ecstatic patters right under my organics, along his nervous system.
Careful with the amount of pressure and keeping him immobilized, I placed my teeth on the augment, pulling my tongue back and circling the inner silver ring of metal at the entrance as I pulled out. Gurathin started a sound that might have turned into a moan but broke off mid-way into a loud sob, as he opened and closed his mouth too fast to finish either. Unable to reach the bed, he bucked his hips against me, quick chaotic motions as far as his limited movement allowed him.
Closing my lips securely around the ring, and deliberately placing my tongue to seal his entrance, I sucked at his data port. A light sort of suction that only lasted 2.32 seconds, but that shocked him, and me in turn. My processors rattled at the stimulus, power cells burning to compensate for the over-expenditure of energy.
Gurathin was falling apart, and it was chipping away at my own sanity, as I fingered around… not the contents of his mind exactly, but the inner structure of him. Rummaging through his systems, gripping him inside and out. And him, trembling and pleading, welcoming me in.
Before either had the presence of mind to slow down, I dived inside him again. Lightening the hold on the outside of his data port, the skin pink and oversensitive, I used my tongue to enter him at an angle, making a rolling motion upwards and stimulating as much of the small, inner augment as I could. The metal inside was hot, and the organic current of him, weaker than a constructs as it was, hit me like a transport ship all the same.
This time, I let him go over first. Holding on with what might as well have been the very last of my strength to stimulate him as he rode his own overload.
The crest of his orgasm crashed against me, flooding my systems. The hum of my cooling processes audible from the strain, I licked, pressed, mouthed at his data port with an unrelenting effort. Gurathin keened, breathless and writhing as much as he could under my grip.
His biological responses and digital interpretations instilled in me a single-minded determination to stretch the moment, to extract as much raw sensation as I could from him, to keep the data flowing as long as (augmented) humanly possible.
A mirror of our bodies, he struggled against me in the feed, inviting me to increase my restraint. In an act of wild, unthinking programming, or a response to milk every drop of pleasure from the experience: I let myself go at him, overpowering processing speed and all.
Tendrils of my digital self sunk themselves into his augment code, metaphorical teeth bypassing the mechanical processes and sinking directly into the outskirts of his organic pathways. I was only vaguely aware of his desperate thrusts and wordless pleading.
Everywhere we met, we struggled to merge into each other, a doomed endeavor to try and occupy the same space. A messy data exchange that pulled me deeper inside him, as we dragged each other into feedback loops of sensation that reverberated and increased as our abandon echoed between us.
My inner temperature spiked, I felt like I was going to melt. Drip all over him and-
When I couldn’t hold off any longer, my overload went though us both, data unfiltered. Code strained to interpret my own splintering pleasure, I felt the pulsing, brutal rippling of nerve endings lighting up from his core outwards. My joints locked with an audible click and my audio input narrowed down to nothing but his ragged breaths, the unrestrained beat of his heart, and the desperate sounds of his undoing.
The rest of my senses followed in a cascade of overflowing ecstasy.
I burst online again with a wave of mixed inputs and unexpected shutdown alarms I quickly disengaged. Feeling still the faint sparks of electricity that traveled through my tongue and down my overtaxed circuits, I pulled out of him and brushed my lips over the flat metal of the entrance as it closed. The warm skin that surrounded his port, blushed and over-sensitive, allowed me to pull a shaky, wrung out whine as I mouthed lazily around it.
It was an instinctual move, seeking the reward of his body, tugging at every strand of waning organic sensation still within reach.
The low burr of my power cells struggling to return to baseline helped me get a better grasp on reality, as I managed to recognize his presence in the feed. All at once, I realized I was still mostly inside him, holding desperately to every place I could burrow into.
Stay, he sent, please. A fuzzy, dissipated feeling accompanying his message. He wasn’t all there when I was so deep inside him, and I wasn’t all here when I was surrounded so tightly by him.
I’m not going anywhere. We both knew it, but turning it into words made him relax.
The slow thrum of his organic presence in the feed was radiating comfort, appreciation and an alarming amount of something messy and difficult to parse, identifiable at first as fondness and getting more complicated and complex the longer I tried to decipher it. I looked away, and contented myself with basking instead in the calming, unashamed light of it.
Back in our physical reality, Gurathin hung limp under me, wrung out and covered in a light sheen of sweat. My locked hold kept his genitals away from the bed still, his hips giving sporadic, jerky shifts as the last pulsing echoes of his release wrecked through him. Reluctantly, but knowing I risked damaging him if I continued, I pulled away from his data port and nuzzled instead at the crook of his neck.
His sensations were no longer as mine as my own, but still I knew him to be overstimulated and sensitive, which prompted me to slide my open palm against his spine, straightening as far as I could while keeping my hold on him, enjoying the short, shaky hiss that followed.
As my organic and inorganic body settled, I started to uncoil from inside his augments, pulling back slowly and deliberately. Gurathin’s fingers twitched, hands laying limp on the sheets. I started reviewing, tagging and filing the compiled data, absentmindedly petting his lower back and enjoying the scratchy, textured feeling of the short trail of hair that ran down from his navel and brushed against my forearm.
On the camera feed, I caught myself making some gesture with my face (that I refuse to classify as a smile), while cataloging the minuscule glints of blood on his back, sparkling where I‘d scratched the deepest; blooming hints of the bruise to come at his hip, and the overworked, tender skin of his neck.
Mine.
It was a lot of data. All his vitals from our emotional conversation and memory sharing; our physical, organic and inorganic reactions, the shared and the individual ones; even the error reports my confused systems threw at me and I dismissed automatically. The video files alone I already had three copies of, and was planning to tag second by second to make easier to reference in the future. For scientific purposes, of course.
I lost track of time and was having a great deal of fun, until I was rudely interrupted by a faint, wet hiccup sort of sound.
There he was. Hips still firmly in my hold, backside pressed against me still, in the exact position I’d had him while I pulled him apart: deeply and disrespectfully asleep.
“Gurathin, what the fuck?”