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SecUnit comes over to Mensah’s quarters on a fairly regular basis, so when she informs him that it’s coming over for dinner that evening, Gurathin doesn’t really think about it. In hindsight, maybe he should have considered the fact that SecUnit doesn’t eat and usually prefers to socialize in contexts where there is media being watched, but when Mensah tells him they’re doing something, he doesn’t question it.
He’s a little nervous, of course he is. Gurathin knows that he is one of the few people on Preservation whom SecUnit actively dislikes, and it’s not its fault that he’s developed a crush on the construct the size of a fucking planet. No. That blame lays entirely on his shoulders. He thinks he’s managed to keep a handle on it, so far, but his blood still rushes whenever it’s around, and it makes him worry about what his vital signatures look like to it.
Luckily, Gurathin is no stranger to unrequited desire – it’s typical of him to want what he can’t have. Most days, he’s still left reeling from the fact that Mensah allows him to occupy her bed on the nights she spends away from her spouses. That she does so with joy and pleasure – that she desires him there, even – is enough to make his heart clench in a way he’s never quite sure how to handle. Mensah lets him worship her the way that he craves to, guides him and tells him what to do, knows what he wants, what he needs – often better than he knows it himself – and well… that just makes him want to get down on his knees for her even more.
Despite his best efforts to act unaffected this evening, Mensah can tell he’s nervous, and she knows why. He can’t hide anything from her. Not anymore.
“Hey,” she tells him, rubbing a hand across his back as he prepares their dinner. “Don’t fret.”
“I’m not,” he protests, the knife coming down across the carrot he’s dicing with more force than he intended.
Mensah raises an eyebrow at him, and he resolutely fixes his gaze on the carrot.
“Gura,” she says finally, gently. “It doesn’t hate you, surely you know that.”
His lips press into a wry smile. “Considering that it has literally said the words ‘I don’t like you’ to me on multiple occasions, I beg to differ.” The cuts of his knife speed up, chnk chnk chnk on the cutting board. “And that’s fine,” he continues. “It doesn’t have to like me, that’s its prerogative."
It also hurts like hell, but Gurathin respects SecUnit’s ability to decide for itself what it likes and dislikes, and if that includes putting him in the dislike file, then he just has to live with it.
He’s lived with worse.
“It wouldn’t come over if it hated you,” she counters. “SecUnit doesn’t do anything it doesn’t want to do.”
“No,” he corrects her, “it would still come over, because it likes you.”
Mensah doesn’t say anything to that, just purses her lips and furrows her brow. He hates feeling like he’s disappointed her, but in this rare instance, she’s wrong.
It doesn’t like him. He knows that, and at this point, it’s unlikely that its feelings about him will ever change. And that’s fine. Really. It is.
The door chime rings just in time to stop him from accidentally slicing the tips of his fingers off.
…
Dinner goes surprisingly well, all things considered. Mensah compliments his cooking. SecUnit doesn’t eat, obviously, but it also does not look at him with disdain, even when he makes a joke that isn’t very funny. Two hours later, Gurathin is ready to wash dishes and tentatively mark the evening down as a moderate success, when Mensah gets that glint in her eye that makes his blood simultaneously run hot and cold.
“Well,” she says, folding her napkin and looking at SecUnit. “Shall we get on with it?”
“That might be best,” it responds, and Gurathin’s stomach flips with the distinct feeling that he’s out of the loop on what’s being discussed. Has he done something wrong? Maybe SecUnit is upset with him for some reason and needed Mensah as a mediator to talk about it with him. The construct glances at him, and he feels his face get warmer. It doesn’t look at him often. “You’ve briefed him?”
“I haven’t,” Mensah says. “He’ll know when he needs to know.”
Gurathin frowns, heart rate picking up as he runs through all of his interactions with SecUnit in the past week. It hadn’t behaved any differently towards him that he can remember, but then again, he’s not always the best with those kinds of things. He opens his mouth to speak, but Mensah shoots him a stern look that has him snapping it shut again. What the fuck is going on?
SecUnit looks surprised for a split second and then quickly schools its expressions again. “Okay.”
“I know you read the material I gave you,” Mensah continues, “but do you have any general questions before we talk about the specifics of the evening?”
Gurathin doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about, but it seems to make SecUnit a little uncomfortable, because it shifts in its chair. “I–” it begins, pausing, then starting again, “I am curious about how it will operate with three people.” It hesitates again, sending another glance toward Gurathin. “Curious, but not… averse.”
Okay – it doesn’t seem mad at him, at least. So then, what is it? Is there a new mission he didn’t know about?
Mensah smiles. “I’m sure Gura will be more than happy to help you understand. I believe you also just wanted to observe, at least for the first bit?”
Wait, what? How is he involved? Why hadn’t Ayda told him about any of this?
SecUnit’s jaw does something weird, and it nods. “That would be preferable.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course,” Ayda assures it, “but shall I explain Gura’s limits to you, in case you change your mind later?”
Heat rises in Gurathin’s cheeks like flame. His limits? There was absolutely no way… was there? It was technically within the negotiated bounds of their relationship for Ayda to bring in someone else without consulting him first, because he trusts her. She knows what’s best for him, but SecUnit? Why is it here? It hates him. Several of SecUnit’s drones drift closer to him, and he swallows as his whole body heats up with the feeling of being scrutinized. It still doesn’t seem upset at him, but it is watching him closely – probably monitoring his vitals, too. The thought shouldn’t turn him on, but he can already feel his cock stirring traitorously in his briefs. Fuck.
He has to say something. Has to clarify exactly what is happening, because if it’s not what it seems like it might be then–
“Ayda–” he starts.
“Gura,” she chides, not even turning to face him. “You will speak when spoken to.”
Shame flushes through his whole body. It’s the voice she uses on him in the bedroom, except she’s using it here, now, at the dinner table. With SecUnit right there. It’s as good a clarification as any.
“He likes to be talked down to and teased,” Ayda tells SecUnit, “but not outright made fun of.” It nods, and Gurathin swallows, his breath starting to come short. It is what he thinks it is. Deity, it’s exactly what he thinks it is. “His thighs are very sensitive,” she says matter-of-factly. “He’s very eager and sweet, but he often needs to be told what to do — I find a stern but gentle tone works best. If he’s doing well, you can praise him, and he’ll turn a beautiful shade of red. For instance, he’s being very good and quiet right now, so you could call him a good boy, if you like.”
SecUnit looks at him again, and he holds his breath.
“…good boy, Gurathin,” it says, testing the words out.
His cheeks burn. This can’t be real.
“See?” Ayda says, only sparing him a glance before turning her attention back to SecUnit. “Nice and red.” Fuck, he’s already half hard. It’s as hot as it is embarrassing and baffling. “You will not hit him or administer any kind of corporal punishment,” she continues. “If he says the word armadillo, that means you stop everything you’re doing, and I’ll handle it from there. Got it?”
“Yes,” it says, then hesitates. “Why armadillo?”
Mensah smiles. “They’re his favorite fauna.”
Somehow that’s the most embarrassing part of the whole exchange. Gurathin expects Murderbot to make fun of his choice, but instead it just nods again. He feels dizzy. Lightheaded. This is impossible, and yet it’s happening right in front of him.
“Now,” Mensah smiles, “would you like to tell him to go get ready in the bedroom, or shall I?”
SecUnit’s drones veer even closer to him. “You do it.”
“Gura, sweetheart,” Ayda finally looks at him, and her eyes are so warm. He’s already a mess – she knows just how to pick him apart. “Go get your toy ready.”
Getting up from the table, Gurathin feels like he’s in a stupor, head swimming with arousal and nerves. Ayda and SecUnit watch him leave, and he heads down the hallway and into her bedroom. He knows where all her things are by heart now, but he’s nearly shaking with how much it feels like this is the very first time he’s doing this. The strap is in the top drawer of her nightstand, and he takes it to the sink to wash it before setting it on the bed. The harness is hung up in her closet, and he lays that out, too, next to the strap. Lube goes next to that. Then, he strips – shoes, shirt, pants – and sits on the edge of the bed to wait.
Five minutes later, he hears the door open, and Ayda sits down next to him.
“I expect you have some questions, darling,” she says, running a hand down his cheek. He nods. “That’s alright. You can ask me now.”
“Why?” It’s the only thing he can think to ask. Everything else is overwhelming to think about – it’s basically his biggest, most shameful fantasy come true, but if there’s one thing about Gurathin, it’s that he could never resist poking holes in a good thing. Mensah smiles gently at him.
“SecUnit approached me recently and confided in me that it had been having some… feelings of a sexual nature,” she explains. “We talked, and it decided that it wanted to experiment with sex, and that the people it would feel most comfortable doing that with were you and me.” Comfortable with him? Ayda he could understand, but him? “I agreed to have it as a guest in our bedroom,” she continues. “It wants to watch what we do together, and then maybe play with you for a little bit.” She runs her hand through his hair, and he fights the urge to lean into it. His brain is buzzing, having trouble processing all the information. “You’re going to be good for it, okay?”
Gurathin’s whole body sings with desire – it’s everything he’s ever wanted. Tears threaten to spring into his eyes, but he fights them back. He doesn’t want to cry this early in the evening, not when everything is already so perfect.
“Does it… know?” He has to ask.
“That you have feelings for it?” Mensah always knows exactly what he means to say, even when he can’t say it himself. It would be frightening if it didn’t make him feel so horribly warm inside. “I haven’t told it – that’s your business. But…” she trails off.
“But?” He swears he can hear his blood rushing in his ears.
“But you two should talk.”
Gurathin almost laughs at that. They should talk. They should talk, after it’s apparently going to watch Mensah fuck him, and maybe – deity – maybe even participate. The whole situation is utterly absurd. “Let’s see if it’ll touch me first,” he mutters.
Mensah gives him a soft look, but doesn’t say anything. He’s grateful – this is already so out of his depth. “Would you like a minute, or can I call SecUnit in now?”
Gurathin takes a deep breath. He’s waited long enough.
“You can call it.”
Mensah goes silent, and he wonders if he said something wrong when his augments pick up some nearby feed activity. Oh. Oh. They have a private feed connection. His face burns hot at the thought of what they must be talking about in there, and the fact that he isn’t allowed to know. He could hack it, of course, if he wanted to, but even if SecUnit didn’t pick up on it immediately somehow, that’s not how he wants this evening to go. Mensah told him that he’s going to be good for SecUnit, so… he’s going to be good for it.
. . .
SecUnit? You can come in now.
Murderbot opens the door to Dr. Mensah’s bedroom and steps inside. It’s having an emotion that feels very fast, but it can figure out what that is later. Right now, it needs to focus. Dr. Mensah and Dr. Gurathin are sitting next to each other on the bed – Dr. Mensah is still clothed, but Dr. Gurathin is not, sitting in his underwear and looking oddly small for such a tall human. It supposes then that it should dispense with addressing them by their honorific titles in its head, if it’s going to be watching them engage in sexual activity very shortly. Thinking about that makes the fast emotion in its chest speed up. Its internals are warm, too, but it’s experimented with itself enough to know what that is by now. Drones wander over to document Gurathin’s bare skin, already flushed pink, and it carefully maps the smattering of hair on his chest and belly, the softness gathered at his hips, the vitiligo patterns on his back.
It notes the items at the base of the bed – a jet black silicone sexual aide that Mensah’s diagrams refer to most often as a ‘strap,’ or ‘strap-on’ and the accompanying harness. Mensah had spoken to it about what they were and how they were going to be used tonight, but seeing them on the bed somehow anchors the whole thing in reality. The toys are Mensah’s, but somewhere in its processors it registers that it could use them the same way she does, if it wanted. It’s not sure it does, but… that’s part of why it’s here, to find out what it likes. Who it likes.
That last part is not exactly true – it knows who it likes. Or at least, it knows who it trusts. It trusts Mensah. And since he had held it inside of him – risked life and limb and sobriety to retrieve it from the jaws of deletion – it trusts Mensah’s stupid augmented human. Gurathin. It trusts Gurathin.
Mensah sees its drones lingering around the strap and gets up from the bed, walking around it in order to pick up the toy and hold it out for it to take.
“Would you like to hold it, SecUnit?” she asks.
It hesitates, then accepts the object. The black silicone is sleek but kind of velvety in texture, and it runs its fingers along the length of it, admiring. It feels sturdy, and it is momentarily blindsided by the fact that this has been inside Gurathin. It’s not even sure how that works, really. It had read the manuals Mensah had given it, but still, given the size of it, it’s not entirely sure how it could be pleasurable. It supposes it’s going to find out soon enough.
Gurathin is still sitting obediently on the side of the bed, his thumb running in tiny circles over the back of his other hand. He’s looking at the strap in Murderbot’s hands with something that looks like anxiety but is a lot more heated – arousal, Murderbot guesses. It knows what arousal feels like, but that must be what it looks like, at least on Gurathin. Flushed, his lips slightly parted, pupils dilated with intense focus. He looks… pretty. It checks his vitals to see that both his heart and breathing rate have increased, though they are within the normal parameters for human sexual activity. Mensah had given it that data beforehand, too, and it’s grateful. Means it doesn’t have to worry about client safety as long as both Gurathin and Mensah stay within the acceptable range.
I’m going to undress, she tells it in their private feed connection. It pings her back an acknowledgement. While I do that, would you like to try something that doesn’t involve touching anyone? She sends it a diagram drawing of a person on their knees, licking something – a toy, it realizes, like the one it’s holding. Heat gathers low in its data core. It pings her an affirmative back, and its drones pick up her smile on their cameras.
“Gura,” Mensah says aloud, and Murderbot watches as his attention immediately turns towards her. “Get your toy wet.”
He bites the inside of his cheek and nods, sliding off of the bed and padding over to where it stands with the toy in its hand.
You don’t have to do anything, Mensah says. Just hold it while he sucks on it a little bit. He’s getting in his head and needs something to calm him down.
It pings her an affirmative and watches Gura kneel down in front of it, the heat in its abdomen flaring again. For someone with such an abrasive personality, his movements are always so graceful, almost elegant. Slowly, it lowers the toy to be in line with his lips, and he hesitates, glancing up at it. He’s nervous, like Mensah said. Nervous because it’s there? He’s still got his hands in his lap, painted fingers now bunching in the fabric of his pants.
It’s nervous, too, it realizes. That must be what the fast feeling in its chest is. It should say something. Something encouraging? Fuck, it really doesn’t know how to do this.
“Go on,” it tries.
That seems to be close to the right thing to say, because Mensah pings it in approval, and Gurathin’s shoulders loosen a little as he leans forward, lips parting for his tongue to lick up the underside of it carefully. Fuck. Why does that make its internals feel so hot? He licks the strap again, and his eyes flutter shut. Murderbot watches as he takes the head of the toy into his mouth entirely, wetting it with his saliva as he sucks on it. It should be gross, but it isn’t.
Mensah had said he liked praise, right?
“Good boy.” It echoes what she had taught it in the kitchen earlier, and Gurathin exhibits the same response as he did then and more – cheeks blushing a beautiful shade of red as he makes a soft sound around the toy in his mouth, before redoubling his efforts and swallowing more of the length down. The sight makes its dataport spark.
Behind Gurathin, Mensah is taking off her clothes, first slipping out of her pants and folding them neatly on the chair by her bed, then tugging off her shirt to do the same. She leaves her undergarments on for the time being – dark gray, natural fiber. None of the strappy, uncomfortable stuff from its media. It’s never seen her unclothed before, but her body is strong and soft at the same time. It had heard somewhere on a contract once that women grew less attractive as they grew older, but it doesn’t understand how that could be true. It can’t help but think that Mensah looks… dignified, somehow. Powerful. It’s grateful to be able to watch her and Gurathin at the same time with its drones, and it’s recording everything, of course, with Mensah’s permission. For later use.
She walks with purpose to the edge of the bed, evidently staying on the periphery of Gurathin’s sightline, because he whines a little in frustration and attempts to angle himself to see her better, never letting the strap out of his mouth.
“Ah, ah,” Mensah chides, retrieving the harness from where he’d laid it out earlier. “You know what I look like.” She steps behind him again, running a hand through his hair, and he settles and focuses on the strap, heavy-lidded eyes looking up at Murderbot. It finds it doesn’t mind. In fact…
It pushes the strap a little farther into his mouth, and oh, that produces the same delicious sound he made earlier, the one that sends sparks all the way down its spinal column. It carefully tags the audio as a win state in the subroutine it’s building out from all the data.
In the private feed, Mensah asks, Are you watching?
It sends back an affirmative ping, splitting its attention evenly between the two of them – fucking the strap slowly into Gurathin’s eager mouth and paying attention to Mensah, who is stepping into the harness. The way Gurathin looks now is a far cry from his earlier, nervous self. His cheeks are flushed pink, taking the strap so beautifully into his mouth, every once and a while allowing it to slip from his lips in order to lick up the side of it. They’ve established a good rhythm, and Murderbot thinks about putting its hand in his hair, like Mensah had.
I do need the toy, she tells it, holding out her hand. Her amusement bleeds through the feed. Having fun?
If SecUnits could blush, it would. It pings her another affirmative, pulling the spit-slick toy from Gurathin’s mouth, who leans forward as if to chase it, missing its presence. She takes it and fits it into the harness, and it runs a hand through Gurathin’s hair, hoping to soothe him, ground him with its touch. The augmented human leans into it, and its chest goes tight.
First buckle here, Mensah shows it, deftly doing up the harness, then here. Tighten and you’re done. She’s showing it, it realizes, in case it wants to wear it later. Something pools low where its stomach would be at the thought. The straps bite invitingly into her thighs.
She finally comes into Gurathin’s view, and oh deity, Murderbot recognizes the look he gives her. It’s– it’s the one he gave it when they were hardwired back in the CR, at the end of the survey mission, when it was redownloading its memories from him. Devotion? Awe? Love? Fuck. It doesn’t know, but it has to restart several of its subroutines as it processes the realization.
The expression Mensah gives him in return is tender and warm. They mirror each other, it thinks. It wonders what expression it wears on its own face.
“On the bed, darling,” Mensah tells him, and he obeys immediately, gracefully unfolding himself from the kneeling position and arranging himself on the bed laying on his back, face up. Mensah taps his hip. “Turn over. We need to make sure SecUnit can see.”
Gurathin’s face burns red, but he does as she tells him to. He obeys her like he has a governor module installed, but Murderbot knows he only does so because he wants to. It’s hard to imagine a desire so complete. Would he do as it asked the same way? Just because he had looked at it that way once does not mean that he will ever look at it that way again. It shakes the thought from its processors. That’s not why it’s here.
“Now,” Mensah begins, and it refocuses on her leaning to retrieve a bottle of viscous fluid from the foot of the bed – lube, “for humans with Gura’s configuration, a little bit of preparation is required before penetration. Otherwise, it won’t be very pleasurable for him.” She taps the side of his hip again. “Up.”
Gurathin pushes his hips up until he is holding himself up on his knees and his elbows, face buried in Mensah’s pillow. Mensah’s charts label the position as “doggy,” which, upon further database query, is also archaic slang for a type of domesticated Terran fauna. Humans were so fucking weird. However the arch of his back is… aesthetically appealing. It gets the strangest instinct to run its fingers down the indent of his spine.
Mensah slides her fingers under the waistband of Gurathin’s undergarments and pulls them down his thighs, revealing the soft curve of his backside. She runs her hand over him, squeezing just a little. “Doing okay, sweetheart?”
Gurathin only manages a soft, muffled sound into the pillow, but he pings them both an affirmative in the feed, the metadata practically bursting with desire. Murderbot swallows, even though the action is superfluous.
Mensah smiles. “Good. You’re being so good for us – isn’t he SecUnit?”
It nods before remembering that Gurathin can’t actually see it do that. “Yes,” it says. It feels like it should say something else, it just doesn’t know what. Mensah pings it encouragingly in their private feed space.
Say something nice. Something about how he looks, or how obedient he’s being.
“You look… pretty,” it offers, surprising even itself with its choice of words. It’s true. He does look pretty like this. A burst of pleasure comes through their shared public feed, and it rushes to add it to the growing list of win states in its new subroutine.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Mensah agrees, petting his flank. “Now, you can use gloves, if you don’t want the lube to come in contact with your skin,” she explains, “but take about this much on your fingers.” Mensah squeezes the clear liquid onto her first two fingers and rubs them together. “Warm it up a little bit like this,” she continues, “so it’s not so unpleasant when you start to open him up. See?” Carefully, she spreads his cheeks and begins to work one finger into his hole, slowly thrusting in and out. “Wait until he adjusts – better to go too slow than too fast. We need to stretch him out nicely, because we don’t want to hurt him.”
Murderbot watches her finger pump in and out of Gurathin, arousal tinged with embarrassment bleeding out of him over the feed. She curls her finger inside him, and he whimpers into the pillow, burying his face further in it.
“When he’s ready, you can add another finger.” Mensah pushes another one into him, stretching his hole open further. He keens, pressing his backside up and into her ministrations. Oh, this is pleasurable for him. He likes it. Her fingers in him makes him feel good. It likes that, the obvious evidence of his arousal. It hasn’t gotten a good look at it yet, but it can see the outline of his sexual organ hanging hard and heavy between his legs, yet more evidence of his increasing pleasure. Usually, it would find such things disgusting, but here? With them? It only feels warm. Curious. Good. It feels good.
“Now, sometimes you’ll only need two fingers, but Gura here likes a little bit of a bigger toy, so we’re going to use three, just to be safe.”
She works another finger into him, always so gentle, yet so sure with her movements, and he collapses a little further onto his elbows with a noise that is practically a whine. Murderbot picks up a different pleasure suffusing the feed – not the sharp, flaring, mildly embarrassed desire of Gurathin, but a desire like magma, slow moving and hot, desire that could cut through rockface. Mensah. Her pleasure takes a different shape, to be sure, but suddenly Murderbot is keenly aware that it is observing the practiced dance of two people who know each other intimately, who care for each other in the organic, natural way that humans do. It doesn’t know if it can replicate that.
Still, when it looks at them, it wants.
It’s never wanted like this before. It never learned how.
Doing alright, SecUnit?
The tension it hadn’t even realized it was holding in its body relaxes at the sound of her voice in the feed. It may never have learned, but Mensah is teaching it. And if it knows one thing in the universe to be true, it is that Ayda Mensah is an excellent teacher.
It sends an affirmative ping and feels its fingers twitch with organic impulse. Can I touch him?
Mensah’s pleasure peaks in the feed at its request. It logs that too.
Of course, she says. However you like.
Murderbot steps closer to the side of the bed and decides to go for the mesmerizing arch of Gurathin’s spine first. The pads of its fingertips brush against the soft skin on the small of his back, a few inches above where Mensah is still working her fingers into him, and he gasps.
“Ayda?” Her name is still slightly muffled by the pillow, but he’s turned his head to the side slightly so they can hear him better, eyes still squeezed tightly shut.
“No,” it answers him. “It’s me.”
“Oh,” he breathes, and that does something strange to its internals. “You?”
Its drone camera catches Mensah curling her fingers inside him again, and Gurathin lets out a choked-off moan. “Fuck,” he pants. “Fuck, Ayda, I’m ready. Please.”
Mensah smiles and does that motion with her fingers yet again, drawing another broken sound from the man beneath her. “Tell me what you want, darling,” she purrs. “Tell me what you need.”
“Please don’t,” Gurathin begs, but the feed is still practically drowning in his desire. “Please don’t make me say. Not in front of it.”
“Good boys ask for what they want,” she reminds him. “And you’ve been so good for us this evening. I’m sure SecUnit wants to know what you need, too.”
Did it? It wanted to hear him speak more, wanted Mensah to do that thing with her fingers one more time just so it could have another audio file to save. Wanted to touch him more, make his vitals spike in those pretty patterns they’d been making all evening. It flattens its palm against his back and rubs up the length of his spine and back again, nearly down to his backside. Gurathin whimpers.
Tell me, it echoes Mensah, hoping it’s doing this right. Tell us.
For a moment, it thinks he really isn’t going to say anything. Then, quietly, he mumbles it out.
“...want you to fuck me. Please?”
“Good boy.” Good boy. It and Mensah respond at the same time.
Maybe it is getting the hang of this.
. . .
She loves this part. It’s here – when she’s finally worked Gura open and he’s begging for it, pliant and ready to take her, to let himself be taken – that her heart feels the most full. That he allows her to do this for him, to take him out of his head and into his own body, to give her control and bring him pleasure? It’s a gift like no other. Ayda knows he does not always see it the same way she does, but she thinks he gets glimpses of what he means to her every so often – more and more each passing day. Theirs is a strange relationship, to be sure, but one that she would not change for the wealth of entire planets.
She switches the feed enabled feature of the toy on and feels the device hum to life in the harness. Her body thrums with desire, and she pours more lube out onto her palm before taking herself in hand and giving the strap a few good strokes. It always takes a little bit to get used to the sensation of an appendage that is not naturally hers, but her hand on it feels good, and she lets herself thrust into her fist a little bit. SecUnit’s drones flit around her, its hand still running the length of Gura’s back.
Its presence here is a gift, too, and a surprise – but a most welcome one. She can tell it’s curious and, she thinks, at least a little desirous, as well. The sight of its large hand on her Gura’s back makes heat pool between her legs, and she gives the strap another squeeze, inhaling sharply at the sensation.
“Ready, sweetheart?” she asks him.
“Y-yes,” he stutters out. “Ready.”
Separately, in their private feed, she pings SecUnit. Ready?
Yes, comes the reply, and is it her imagination or does it sound a little bit breathless? She hopes so. She wants so badly for this to be good for it.
Carefully, she lines herself up with Gura’s slick hole. He gasps a little at the feeling of the blunt head of the toy against him, and then she’s pressing in, and he’s warm, so warm, and tight, even with thorough preparation. She can’t help the little sound of pleasure that escapes her as she enters him, and Gurathin’s breathing increases rapidly as she pushes inch after inch inside him. Even though she knows none of what they’re doing is dangerous, she finds it oddly comforting to know that SecUnit is there, monitoring.
“Just a little more, darling,” she breathes, and he moans into the pillow under her. “You’re taking me so well.”
She holds him by the hips and pulls him back onto her strap until she’s seated all the way in him. He really does take her well, and he feels so warm around her, so good. His willingness and his obedience heat her blood enough to make her feel a little bit dizzy, and Gura squirms a little bit beneath her, trying to entice her into moving before she has a chance to regain all of her composure. It’s working. He knows her too well.
Does it feel good? SecUnit asks in the feed connection shared between all three of them, and she and Gura gasp a little at the same time. It’s inexperienced, yes, but it learns quickly, and so she doesn’t know whether the question is borne of curiosity, a desire to provoke a reaction from her and Gurathin, or a mixture of both. Either way, it makes her proud and causes her core to clench in equal measure. She wants it to ask questions. She wants it to like this. She wants to make it feel good. It’s had so few good feelings in its life.
“Yes,” she answers out loud, mostly for her own benefit. She has difficulty concentrating in the feed when the physical sensations are so overwhelming. “He feels perfect.”
Slowly, she pulls back and begins to thrust, the hot slide of the strap into him sending pleasure rolling all throughout her body.
“So perfect,” she echoes herself, thrusting into him more readily now, letting the feeling of him clenching around her overtake her. He pushes his ass back to meet her in rhythm, and no matter how many times she’s fucked him, it always feels this deliciously good. “Such a good boy. Show SecUnit how good you are.” Gurathin moans beneath her, arching up into her even more, and Ayda smiles. She loves to make him come apart like this, pushing him past shame and into fantasies he never thought he’d be allowed to have.
SecUnit’s hand is still on Gurathin’s back when it pings her in their private feed.
Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it good.
Her heart swells, wetness gathering between her thighs.
Talk to him, she manages in the feed. The sensations from the strap are starting to be too much. Touch his hair, maybe pull it a little.
It pings her in acknowledgement.
“You’re doing well,” it tells him. It’s getting less hesitant every time it speaks, and it makes her feel so proud. “Making such nice noises for her.” Its words pull another sound out of Gurathin, and that makes Ayda thrust into him hard, drawing his desperate, needy moan out until his voice breaks. SecUnit runs its hand through his hair and tugs.
“Fuck, please!” he groans, and oh, her boy is so pretty when he begs.
“Is that what you need?” she pants, running her hand over his ass and squeezing. “Need it a little rough today?”
“Yes, yes, please,” he chants, and she can tell that he’s too consumed by pleasure and sensation to worry about what SecUnit thinks of him anymore. Good. That’s just how she wants him.
Another hard thrust has him whimpering again, and then she works on setting a new, exacting rhythm that has the heat rapidly building between her legs. “Fuck,” she curses. “You feel so good. Taking every inch of me, darling.”
Normally, this would be the point at which she would take pity on poor Gura and wrap a hand around his hard, dripping cock, but today she holds off. Something about the way SecUnit had looked at the strap had made her wonder, and she wants to give it the opportunity to fuck Gurathin, too, if it so desires. It might not. But it may. A selfish part of her hopes that it will – she’d love nothing more than to watch them together.
“SecUnit,” Her breaths are coming faster as she builds to her peak. “I’m getting close, so if there’s a, hah, a position or something that you’d like to see, you should let me know now.”
She’d sent it several charts beforehand, and she hopes they’ve been useful for it. It may not make a request, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.
A few seconds later, it pings her with an image, and she suddenly feels so fond of it that tears prick in the corner of her eyes. It’s simple missionary. Nothing fancy. Out of all of the things it could have chosen, it just wants to see them face to face. Well. She can certainly do that for it.
Ayda pulls out, and Gurathin whimpers at the loss.
“Turn over, darling. SecUnit wants you on your back.”
He obeys so immediately that that alone almost tips her over the edge.
“Like this?” he asks, looking up at her with wide eyes half glazed over in pleasure.
“Just like that,” she confirms. His neglected cock drips precome onto his belly. Her boy is so patient. “I’m going to fuck you until I come now, okay?”
He nods fervently. “Please. Want you to come.”
“I know.” She lines herself up again and presses back into him, relishing the way their bodies press together, the contented noise he makes once she’s flush with him again, her strap buried inside him. SecUnit’s drones hover close to them, watching, and somehow, its attentiveness makes her feel beautiful. She leans down to kiss Gurathin, her Gurathin, and he parts his lips for her so readily, chasing sensation, heat. They’re still kissing when she starts to fuck him again, and he moans into her mouth. Oh, she really isn’t going to last.
“So pretty,” SecUnit says, and Ayda buries her face in Gurathin’s neck, pumping into him as she chases her orgasm. “Both of you…” Its tone is lower, hushed. “So pretty together.”
That’s all it takes for her orgasm to come crashing over her in hot, rolling waves, moaning into Gurathin’s neck as it overtakes her. She keeps fucking shallow thrusts into him through the aftershocks, working herself through it as her legs shake, and even then she doesn’t pull out, only collapses on top of him, spent. His cock is still hard against her belly, and she pings SecUnit.
Did you enjoy that?
Yes, it responds. After a few seconds of consideration, it says, I enjoyed it a lot, I think.
She smiles into Gurathin’s chest, afloat in the post-orgasm afterglow. Good. Good.
She can’t say what she wants to say, which is to ask it if it wants to try, no matter how much she wants to. That request has to come from it, but she can feel what she thinks, or maybe only hopes, are tendrils of curiosity unfolding from it in the feed. For a minute, there is only contented heavy breathing in the room and the feeling of Gura’s cock twitching against her. He must be aching to get his hands on himself, she knows, but he’s being so good. She tries not to hold her breath against the distinctly anticipatory silence, but she waits. Waits for whatever comes next.
The harness, it says, finally.
Yes?
She hardly dares hope. It’s not like she wouldn’t be satisfied if it didn’t ask – in fact, she expects it not to. It’s tried so many things tonight, more than even she thought it might – tried them and liked them. The evening, as far as she is concerned, is already more than a success.
Is it comfortable? it asks. Ayda’s heart beats a little faster, a fact which she’s sure it picks up on its vital scans, and she can’t stop the small smile that spreads on her face.
It is if you wear it properly, she says truthfully. She’s worn ones that dig or chafe in her time, even when buckled correctly, but this one doesn’t, and that’s why she’s kept using it for so long.
Would it fit me?
Ayda’s smile widens into a grin. Yes.
She’d made sure it would beforehand, just in case.
…can I try? It’s so shy, so hesitant in the feed, but even she can pick up the desire in the metadata.
Absolutely.
Will Gurathin be okay with it?
Ayda has to stop herself from laughing at the absurdity of such a question.
I’m sure Gura would love it.
She pulls out of him at last, and he makes a soft, discontented sound at the loss.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “But I think SecUnit would like a turn now. How does that sound?”
. . .
SecUnit would like a turn now.
Surely, he’d heard that wrong.
“Gura?” Ayda prompts him when he doesn’t respond.
If you don’t want me to– SecUnit starts in the feed, and that snaps him out of his stupor.
“No! No, I–” he stumbles over his words. “Please. I want that. Please.”
Even Gurathin wouldn’t be stupid enough to let go of his only chance to be close to the construct he’s halfway in love with. To– to feel it inside him. Deity. He feels lightheaded at the mere thought. This whole evening has felt like a beautiful dream he’s going to wake up from at any moment, only he’s not waking up. He’s still here. And SecUnit wants to fuck him.
Gurathin turns his head enough to see Ayda slipping out of the harness and handing it to SecUnit. It sets it down on the bed for a moment while it pulls its shirt off, revealing the smooth, muscular expanse of its body, then removes its pants. He watches helplessly as it steps into the harness, adjusting it over the black undergarments that hug its thighs and the null mound between its legs. Its large, deft hands do up the buckles – it must have been watching Ayda do it earlier, when he was occupied with the toy in his mouth. His face heats at the memory. So much has happened in the past two hours that he never thought possible.
He’s overwhelmed, still disbelieving, and so, so fucking hard. He knows better than to touch himself – Ayda does have certain rules that she doesn’t like broken – but when she hadn’t touched him earlier, he’d been perfectly content to be left wanting. She’d already given him so much this evening, far more than he deserves. Yet, here he is, about to get even more.
“Get yourself ready for it, darling,” she tells him, and he goes to turn himself over again, but then SecUnit’s hands are on his hips, pressing him back down into the mattress.
“Stay,” it says. There’s a slight pink tinge to its cheeks that Gurathin has never seen before, and he wishes he had one of SecUnit’s drones so that he could record it and save it to his hard drive permanently. It makes rare, brief, organic eye contact with him, pupils dilated. “Want to see you.”
Those four words alone send a rush throughout his entire body.
The bed dips again as Ayda climbs onto it.
“Lift your head,” she says. He obeys, and she shifts over to place his head onto her lap as she sits crisscross with her back against the headboard, facing SecUnit. She leans down to press another soft, upside down kiss to his lips. He chases the heat of her mouth. “Good boy. Now, open up.”
He spreads his thighs for SecUnit so that it can kneel between them, blushing as the movement exposes his tender hole for it. It shifts closer, strap bobbing between its legs, and finally reality hits him like a garbage hauler – SecUnit is going to fuck him. Wants to fuck him. The toy nudges against his hole, and deity, it’s not even in him yet and he’s already losing it.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, Ayda. SecUnit.”
Ayda’s hand in his hair tightens, grounding him. He looks up at her with wild eyes, needing an anchor amidst the lightning storm of desire building in his stomach. Oh, deity. Oh, deity. His hand flies up to grip her knee as SecUnit lines itself up, and her hand finds his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight. She’s here. She’s here, and it’s here, and everything is so, so perfect.
“Tell me if anything feels bad,” it tells him, and then it starts pushing in.
Gurathin moans, full-throated. Can’t help it. The slide of the strap back into him is so good, and, fuck, it’s SecUnit, now, SecUnit’s strap that’s filling him up, and he can’t believe it, pleasure coursing hot through his body as it sinks into him slowly, slowly, making him feel the stretch, the delicious ache that he craves from being fucked so thoroughly.
“Oh,” it says, so softly that he’s not sure it realizes it said anything at all, but even the smallest vocalization has him clenching down on the strap inside him, and that pulls a short, aborted sound from it that he desperately wants to hear again. Its hips snap forward, and he makes an unbidden little noise as they come flush with his own, its strap buried all the way inside of him.
Its panting, he realizes, its eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensation. Fuck. Fuck, it must have kept the feed-enabled feature on.
“Are you alright, SecUnit?” Ayda asks it, and he’s so glad one of them has enough of their wits about them to check in.
He’s so warm, it responds in the feed they all share. Something hot twists within him at the roughness of its feed presence. It’s affected by this. He’s affecting it. He’s being good for it. You’re so warm.
Being addressed by it has his hips moving of their own accord, squirming beneath it in pleasure. Everything feels so fucking good, Gurathin hardly knows what to do with himself. He wants it to move, but the words stick in his throat. Luckily, Ayda always knows what he needs.
“Try moving a little,” she tells it, still holding Gura’s hand. “You’re both doing so well.”
SecUnit nods, and then he feels it pull out of him just a little, before thrusting back in. It groans, and he feels like the fire burning low in his stomach is going to consume his whole body, leaving nothing but ash.
“Good?” Ayda asks. She has that tone of voice that tells him she knows that ‘good’ is an understatement, and he nods his head in her lap.
SecUnit pings an affirmative to them in the feed and then does it again. The head of the strap presses deliciously against his prostate, sending a shock of pleasure through his body, and he gasps. SecUnit pauses for a moment, just long enough for him to wonder if it’s decided that it doesn’t actually like this and wants to stop, but then all semblance of coherent thought leaves his head as it thrusts into him again at exactly the same angle. The motion pulls the same sparking sensation from his body, the toy rubbing against the spot inside him that has him arching off the mattress. His hand grips Ayda’s hard, and he bites the inside of his cheek in a failed attempt to muffle the embarrassing sound it tears out of him.
“Good boy,” it praises, making his cheeks hot. “Make noise for me.” It punctuates the command with another thrust, and this time Gurathin doesn’t hold back the sound it rips from his throat. He wants to be so good for it, so obedient. Wants it to like this, so that maybe it will decide it wants to do this again with him sometime.
SecUnit’s hips speed up, and then – deity – then it’s really fucking him, its rhythm exacting and precise in the way only a construct could be, and he feels absolutely helpless against the whimpers that spill from his throat, the way that tears are welling up in the corners of his eyes as Ayda squeezes his hand while SecUnit fucks him so well. It’s using one arm to hold itself up over him so it doesn’t crush him with its half metal body, but the other hand is on his chest, wandering over the dips and curves, stopping to brush over a nipple or run through the hair of his happy trail. It’s mapping his body, he realizes, tracing the topographic landscape of it and storing it away, and for some reason, it’s that thought that has the tears sliding down his cheeks – that he’s worth documenting to it, that his body is data SecUnit wants to devote precious file space to. To keep.
“Fuck. Fuck, I’m going to– I don’t know if I can–”
He hasn’t touched his cock all evening, but it’s starting to seem like it won’t matter, and he’s going to come anyway, touch or no touch.
Touch yourself, it tells him. Make yourself feel good. I want to see.
Gura whines. Everything feels too good, so good, and Ayda is stroking his hair, and its hands are on him, and he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t even know where his own hands are, can only whine, whine at how much pleasure there is concentrated in his body at one single moment in time. He opens his eyes to find Ayda staring down at him in wonder, looking for all the world as if she’d never seen anything more beautiful, feels the motion of her hips gently rocking down into the mattress beneath them, her hand still squeezing his.
“I know,” she says. “I know, it’s overwhelming, but I have you. We have you.”
Let go, SecUnit tells him, and who is he to disobey?
His hand flies to where his weeping cock is hard between their stomachs, and it only takes one, two strokes before he’s coming, angling himself so that he spends all over his stomach and not onto SecUnit. It’s still fucking him, hips speeding up but never losing tempo, and then it goes completely still, joints locking, everything frozen in place for half a second before it reboots, and, deity, now he knows what it looks like when it comes.
After it comes back online, SecUnit pulls out of him and collapses to his side. The ensuing quiet is pervasive but not uncomfortable. Come starts to dry a little on his stomach.
Then, a touch, small but insistent. SecUnit’s hand on his. Carefully, he grasps it, moving to thread their fingers together slowly in an attempt to not shatter whatever fragile moment is still hanging in the air. Gurathin realizes, too, that he never let go of Ayda’s hand, that his head is still in her lap, and she is petting his hair in soft, repetitive motions. There is no rush. They stay like that, hand in hand, for a while. He doesn’t know how long. There can be time for talking later, time for questions like why and what is this and what do we do now, but right then?
Then, in the breath between action and speech, they are all content to orbit each other.