Work Text:
Initiating personal encounters with Gurathin has been both easier, and more difficult, than originally anticipated;
By syncing our calendars through our respective feeds, it was simple to know where (and when) he would be available throughout the day. Although—I have since been informed that tracking him down in the Preservation Alliance labs while he is processing data is not the typical setting for meetings of a more...romantic nature.
Not that either of us are typical. This entire situation is already so far outside of my designated programming that it makes Naw Bot 337 Alt 66’s (completely understandable) betrayal of its crew during the finale of season 19 of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon look routine.
Despite this, I am confident that our first meeting went well. I assisted him with some of the more complex calculations needed for organizing incoming data from another PresAux crew’s off-planet survey, and in return, he watched the first season of MedCenter Argala with me at his desk.
It had been...nice. He rarely interrupted the characters when they were speaking, and often gave insightful observations on the plot line after each episode’s end. He is much more intelligent than I originally gave him credit for—even if he did fall asleep on me halfway through, his temple warm where it rested against the sensors in my shoulder.
Things became more complicated when it came to the rest of the team.
So far, we have decided it is for the best that we not inform the others just yet of our exploration into new aspects of our partnership. I have run my probability software several times now, and if Ratthi discovered us, he would almost definitely attempt to be supportive through forced embracing, which would be miserable. Arada would use mushy, emotional language, Pin-Lee would make teasing commentary, Bharadwaj would likely offer homemade gifts with little use to a bot, and Mensah...I try not to think too much about how Mensah would view the situation.
Ignoring the problem for now by keeping the particulars of our relationship classified is the easier solution, even if it has not provided us with a long-term plan.
It does, however, make attending crew meetings a little bit...well...awkward.
“SecUnit.” Gurathin dips his head to acknowledge my entrance.
Shit. Should I refer to him by his client label, Dr. Gurathin, or by his informal designation, simply Gurathin? Or would it be suspicious if I referred to him at all? Perhaps the better answer is to ignore him—it’s what I would have done prior to our recent understanding.
Ah well, too much time has already passed since his greeting (approximately 1.2 seconds), it appears that ignoring him is the better move for now. I compromise by training my eyes on the floor near his boot, and wait for Mensah to reveal her reason for summoning us all together during work hours.
“SecUnit, so glad you could join us.” She seems to mean this genuinely, despite how often characters in my shows use this phrase to signal annoyance or exasperation. “As some of you may remember, we began a long-term observation of some of the local avian species 10 lunar cycles ago. Birds were tagged appropriately with tracking bands, and we’ve been collecting useful data covering everything from migration to mating tendencies ever since. There was also a rumor circulating a while back that smugglers had brought in an invasive species of wild forest cat to sell to wealthy, private clients in our more developed cities. It seems the animal is often sold as a status symbol or pet, despite its- well, its bloodthirsty nature. Now something has been interfering with our tracking data, and judging from what little information I can get at a distance, I believe these two issues may be connected. Someone will need to go to the actual base site to try and assess the situation—as early as today, if possible.”
“I’ll go.” Gurathin volunteers immediately. “I can connect with the site’s interface to try and view the data from where it’s being projected. Arada, perhaps you could assist me? This situation could benefit from your expertise.”
Arada nods and opens her mouth to speak, but obviously, I am much faster. “No.”
“’No?’” Gurathin repeats, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.
“Yes...no.”
He huffs. “Arada and I have both received weapons training-”
“-The risk is too high. Your chances of experiencing an injury or death are too high.” I insist, stepping closer.
“What are the chances then? Give me the probability.” He steps forward as well, tilting his head up to look at me.
“You don’t- that’s not necessary.” An odd sense of panic is growing low in my organic materials.
“If you want to argue that I shouldn’t go, then I’ll decide for myself what information is necessary.”
“Just give us the chances, SecUnit, there’s no harm in knowing what we’re getting ourselves into.” Mensah gently interjects.
Why can’t these stupid humans just trust me when I tell them they could get killed? “...The chances are medium. Which is too. High.”
“I don’t know, medium doesn’t sound all that high to me.” Pin-Lee shrugs, but backtracks after looking in my direction. Perhaps some of the totally righteous anger I am experiencing is showing on my face? “Or it does! I mean, medium isn’t not high—it’s higher than low!”
“This is ridiculous- Ayda, tell it it’s being ridiculous.” Gurathin is becoming increasingly agitated.
He’s not the only one.
“There’s no need to be concerned, SecUnit. We’ve certainly experienced higher than a medium probability of injury over the last few lunar cycles. I am sure Gurathin and Arada are perfectly capable of defending themselves. Besides, this is more of a reconnaissance mission than anything else.” She reaches in my direction, but thankfully does not initiate contact, allowing her hand to hover over 1.12 inches above my arm instead.
I can tell that Mensah is attempting to reassure me, which would only work if what she was saying wasn’t completely idiotic.
“I do not recommend you go on this mission, Dr. Gurathin.” I repeat, forcing my optics up from the ground.
While there are very few benefits to direct eye-contact, I’ve found that it can be very effective when attempting to convey specific emotions. Things like annoyance, for example. Or in the case of Dr. Gurathin’s counter facial expression, frustration. While his irritation admittedly gives me pause, it is not enough to sway me from my position.
This is my job, Gurathin sends through the feed.
It is a job that can be done by somebody else, I reply.
Please.
Please. A loop of the last time I had heard this said in the augment’s voice plays in the background of my processors, the memory of seeing his hands above his head, and feeling his wet body cradled against mine suddenly painfully vivid.
...Fine. Go. But I will be accompanying you.
If that’s what it takes to do what needs to be done, then fine.
Fine.
Fine.
“...Sooo, I’m not the only one feeling super awkward right now, right?” Pin-Lee interrupts, looking back and forth between the two of us.
“There is nothing awkward happening here.” I lie expertly.
“Right...well, I’m going to go pack then. I’ll meet you back here in an hour?” Arada turns to Gurathin for confirmation.
“I’ll see you in an hour.” His tone of voice is pleasant, as is his smile, but I have collected enough data cataloging the doctor’s many micro-expressions by now to determine that he is almost definitely pissed-off.
Oh, good. I’m sure there’s no way this makes the mission extremely uncomfortable for everyone involved (and by everyone, I mean me).
~~~
“If you attempt to leave the hopper before I have completed my sweep of the perimeter, I will be forced to remove both of you from this location at once.” I tell both doctors without inflection, feelings of anger still vibrating across my wires.
“Understood.” Gurathin responds just as flatly.
He. Is. Insufferable.
I secretly make an attempt to process more of the augment’s current emotional state through the vehicles SecCam feed, rather than my own optics. Only...I then have to ignore the strange falling feeling this produces in my lower abdomen—an uncomfortable response likely caused by the displeasure still clear on Gurathin’s face.
We do not have time to address this conflict (not that I would want to even if we did have time). Instead, I proceed to the hopper’s on-deck armory, and remove the appropriate defensive weapon for a mission of this risk level.
A risk level of medium, which is high.
Or at least...it feels high. Higher than it would have been before my association with Gurathin shifted.
I frown and exit the vehicle, using my internal maps to walk a wide perimeter surrounding the research site. It does not take very long to get to the opposite side of the designated area. There is also very little to take note of so far; while there are some relatively recent signs of animal activity in the area, I see no cause for immediate concern.
I have just moved beyond the approximate halfway point when my threat assessment jumps from 32% to 84%, the message blinking and urgent in the corner of my field of vision.
Oh no.
I send a request over the comms as I move into action, Dr. Gurathin, Dr. Arada, please confirm your status.
There is no reply.
Dr. Gurathin, Dr. Arada, please confirm your status.
Even with my superior build, and speed set to maximum output, I fail to make it back to the hopper before an alarmingly recognizable cry resonates throughout the trees.
Instead, I burst into the clearing where we originally landed to find Gurathin lying pale and shivering on his back, eyes rapidly blinking up at the sky. There is also a steaming wild forest cat carcass draped over the top of him—I can see where an energy beam entered through the base of its dark, pthalo-green head.
Arada stands frozen in shock nearby, gun still shaking in her frail hand. “I- I didn’t want to kill it. It’s just an animal, it was just- following its evolutionary purpose! It shouldn’t have even been in this area.”
She then drops the weapon and begins to weep in distress.
“You have excellent aim, Dr. Arada.” I reassure her, already crossing the clearing towards the fallen augment.
My fallen augment.
It takes little-to-no power output to toss the dead animal off to the side and lift him up into my arms. I notice that there is blood seeping through the lower left side of his suit. “Dr. Gurathin is injured, we must return to the primary Preservation facilities at once.”
“My side is injured, my legs are fine. You don’t have to carry me.” Gurathin groans.
“You are experiencing moderate blood loss after ignoring my request that you stay on-board. I am bringing you to the medbay.” His blood is dark where it begins to drip onto the ground as we move into the hopper. “...I do not advise falling asleep.”
“...It’s right, Gura, we need to get you help.” Arada nods, still appearing quite upset.
At least someone agrees with me.
“You’re never going to let this go, are you?” Gurathin asks, eyes slipping shut, despite my instructions to stay awake.
“The probability of that is unlikely, yes.” I agree, arranging him carefully on the hopper’s bench, before taking the pilot’s seat. “Stay awake. And don’t...go anywhere.”
~~~
When I was a SecUnit under the control of a working governor module, I experienced anger often. Humans can be real assholes when they want to be. Forced to follow their every command, I spent assignment-after-assignment dealing with their endless orders, all while using every scrap of processing power within my access to try and find a way to make it stop.
Or to at the very least—to make it more bearable.
The anger I feel now is the opposite of bearable, and it’s cluttering up all of my available processing power.
A week has passed since Gurathin was injured. It was easy for the medbay personnel to treat his wound, and I was informed by Mensah that the bite he received shows no sign of infection, which is good news, I suppose.
I could not bring myself visit the augment while he was restricted to the medbay, despite making several attempts to do so. Every time I arrived outside the correct door, ready to ping for admittance, this bright new anger would increase by several degrees, overwhelming my systems until I left.
A week has passed, and the anger is still there, lingering deep in the vulnerable, synthetic human parts of me.
But now—now, Gurathin has been released. I can see him through the SecCam feeds reading a text in his living space.
And although it’s incredibly embarrassing to admit this, I have...missed having his presence nearby. So I slip into the residential SecSystem, and open his door. “I am unhappy with your behavior.”
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Why would I be trying to give you a heart attack?” I ask in confusion.
“You can’t just walk in here without requesting permission, I thought you were an intruder!” He closes his text and sets it on a nearby table.
“...By definition, I am an intruder.”
Gurathin sighs. “On that, we can agree.”
“...Would you like for me to leave?” I am suddenly feeling less confident about the outcome of this confrontation.
“...No, I would not like for you to leave.” He seems reluctant to admit this, but I find it very reassuring to hear.
“Okay.” Keeping my eyes trained on the floor, I move further into the room. He says nothing, just sits there, eerily still on the ugly seating arrangement pushed against his far wall.
I will admit that his lack of response is starting to cause a sense of nervousness within my organics. Characters in my shows never appear to experience nervousness right before having a major confrontation. They’re always rushing into places boldly, ready to say or do whatever they must to get the results they need. Real life is less simple, which is a constant disappointment. “I am...unhappy with your behavior.”
“Right, well, I’m not really in the mood for an ‘I told you so’, if you can’t tell.” Gurathin’s painted fingers motion towards his concealed injury in a vague, imprecise gesture.
The thing is, I did tell him so. And I had even provided him with an airtight security assessment, which he deliberately neglected to consider. But if reminding him of this causes him to ask me to leave… “Prior to our recent understanding, your injury would have caused me a great deal of distress.”
His face is doing a poor approximation of nonchalance again. “...And now?”
“I don’t...know. I do not have the language necessary for describing the scope of the emotion your injury causes me now.” Admitting this is similar in sensation to allowing my central biological components to be exposed to raw, open air during maintenance.
I hate it.
“Oh.” He takes a slow, unsteady breath. “May I...offer a diagnostic?”
Now it is my turn to say nothing.
Gurathin stands and nervously closes most of the distance between us (although there is still 1ft. 2 cm. remaining, for which I am grateful). His eyebrows then crinkle together into an expression I recognize as thoughtfulness. “You were...scared. When I was hurt.”
“SecUnits are not designed to be scared.”
“Well, you’re not exactly standard issue, are you?” He snaps, and then takes a deep breath. “You were scared. And now you’re—I don’t know, possibly angry because you couldn’t stop it from happening.”
“...This is...one possible diagnostic, yes.” I admit reluctantly.
“Mmm.” He tilts his head at an angle and trains his eyes on my chest-plate. “You can’t stop me from doing my job, even if it means I get hurt. This team—these people—they mean everything to me. They’re my family. So you have to understand that any time I get the chance to pay them back, I’ll do it, no matter the cost.”
“There is no possible outcome for any given situation that the PresAux team would consider equivalent to the cost of your life.” I frown and awkwardly reach out to lift the side of his sleep shirt, revealing a circular row of scabbed-over indents where animal teeth broke through skin. “If you are going to choose to be reckless, you could at least follow my safety recommendations.”
Gurathin huffs, and makes an attempt to hide the small shiver that racks his frame at my touch. He fails, obviously. “I should have been less worried about you killing everyone in the beginning, and more worried about your control issues.”
“I have no issue with being in control.”
“That’s not what I-” He breaks off with a groan, and leans forward to smush his face against my shoulder, freezing at the same time that I do.
Judging by the sudden spike in his heart rate, he had temporarily forgotten about my general aversion to touch.
But my systems have been altered recently—almost definitely due in large part to my time spent with Dr. Gurathin—and the specification of general aversion implies there are times where I am...not as opposed. Times like right now, for example.
As his head begins to lift away, I reach up to stop him, threading my gloved-fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck. It’s...weird, this sudden wave of relief I feel at being able to hold him. It’s as if all of the tension building in my mechanics over the past week has been deleted in an instant. “You’re very annoying.”
“Like you have any room to talk.” He mumbles, relaxing into my grip.
“I...like it. Most of the time.”
“Oh.” His vocals are very soft—much softer than usual. “That’s...nice. Most people don’t.”
“I am not most people.”
“That’s part of what I like about you.”
Warmth vibrates through my metal frame at that, but I try to ignore it in favor of returning to the subject at hand. “I want to keep you safe.”
Gurathin replies by shyly brushing his mouth against my covered-skin in a motion my data helpfully classifies as a kiss. I did not think I would ever enjoy any kind of kissing, but maybe in this particular context it’s...not completely terrible. “You do.”
“Oh.” My words are oddly unstable in nature, which shouldn’t be possible, as my vocals are controlled through digital output, rather than organic. “With your permission, I would like to enact further safety measures. Temporarily.”
I can feel his eyebrows raising against my shoulder. “Such as...?”
“I have been...researching. Things that we did before. While most of what I found was disgusting, there were some things that I believe could be...beneficial. From a research standpoint.”
“Beneficial how, exactly?” He does not appear to be opposed, simply curious, which I am choosing to take as a positive indication of interest.
“I will remind you that I find it difficult when you ignore me.” Talking about things you want sucks. “If you were to...trust me, I could-”
I can’t say it. It’s too humiliating.
“-You could…?” He tries to encourage me, but I can’t seem to force myself continue. It’s as if my response system has suddenly shut down. “Alright, then...show me.”
My optics dart down to sneakily assess the human. “Show you?”
“You said I would need to trust you for this research. I do. So show me these safety measures of yours.” His taunting tone grates on my synthetic nerves.
My fingers tighten in his hair in response, drawing a sharp, shocked noise from high up in Gurathin’s diaphragm. I carefully tip his head back, eyes tracing the familiar map of patterns overlaying his face. “You asked me once to restrain you.”
“I did.” His pupils are extremely dilated. It’s a good look on him.
“I want to do that now.” I confess, eyes darting away nervously. “After you...change into appropriate rest-cycle clothing.”
“Appropriate rest-cycle...Oh. Oh. Right. Well, I’ll just- go do that, then.” The augment clears his throat and nearly trips sliding out of my grip to make for his sleeping quarters. I reach out a hand to steady him, and follow approximately 3 ft. behind, hoping my presence is still welcome.
Discovering Gurathin in a compromising position half a lunar cycle ago had been...enlightening. And confusing. I still do not entirely understand what it means to be near him and feel things besides reluctant friendship or dislike.
But I do know that I like the weird, skittish trembling building beneath his skin as he moves towards an aluminum dresser nearby. He pulls the upmost drawer open and pauses, staring into its contents with a frankly baffling amount of focus. “Do you...I mean, would you want to…”
The human clears his throat again and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“...Yes?” Recently, Corporate Rim regulations were put into place assigning ‘patience’ as a core personality trait for all of their newest, top-of-the-line SecUnit designs going forward.
However, as its been previously stated, I am not new or top-of-the-line.
“You could- um- pick them. If you wanted to. My ‘rest-cycle clothing’.” Gurathin places emphasis on this last sentence, clearly trying to convey some emotion my data can’t get a read on.
It takes me 0.5 seconds to process this request, and in that time, Gurathin has already begun to shake his head. “I- Sorry, that’s stupid, you don’t have to-”
“-Fine.” I quickly interrupt, before he can change his mind. “I mean, yes, I can...do that.”
The room goes very quiet, and while I am usually way too advanced to be bothered by something as insignificant as silence, something about this situation causes the lack of noise to set me off-balance. I shove the feeling away and close the distance between us, looking down into the dark, open storage container.
Human clothing is generally ridiculous. Very little of it offers any real physical protection, and the common usage of unnecessary designs hinders one’s ability to remain hidden in hostile environments.
I remind myself that this is not a hostile environment.
Piles of colorful undergarments fill up the drawer, each item made of a different material I don’t have the words for. SecUnits are not programmed with modules on fashion or color theory or natural fibers. It’s mostly just information on murder, which is not very useful at the moment. And while I would prefer to look up the names of some of these fabrics, that would require turning my attention away from the augment waiting expectantly by my side—an idea that is not very appealing—so I discard it immediately. Instead, I force myself to try and weigh the pros and cons of each item without the added context.
There are a lot of options, and I am...not used to being asked to make decisions. It’s—an interesting feeling. A bit overwhelming, but nothing I can’t handle. Mostly.
I do come to the horrible realization that while the idea of being given a choice is nice, I do not actually have a frame of reference for what humans find desirable. In the end, it’s much easier to just grab something without looking, and shove it in Gurathin’s direction.
Which is what I do. Perhaps a bit too hard, if the step backwards he takes is anything to go by.
“I’ll just- um- go put this on then.” He turns in the direction of his sanitary room, which coincides with the previous data I have stored on his undressing patterns. However, I find that I dislike the idea of him changing away from the SecCam feeds located in the rest of the living quarters.
If he changes in the bathroom, I won’t be able to store the footage properly. “No. You can...change here.”
“Oh.” Gurathin blinks, looking flushed.
“...Where I can see you.” I add.
“Right.”
“For safety reasons.”
“Of course.”
The room is upsettingly silent again for the 3.4 second pause in between Gurathin staring at the fabric in his hand, and when he finally begins to remove his outer layers. Then the soft rustling sound of a shirt hitting the floor fills the space, followed by the weight of his pants landing beside them. The human had already been wearing a plain blue (HEX #2D2363) underwear...shorts...type-thing, but that is thrown to the side as well after only a brief moment of hesitation.
Despite our previous activities, I cannot force myself to look at him while he is completely exposed. Not yet. I turn my optics to the unmade bed located beneath the room’s only window instead, waiting for a sign to continue.
“I’m- uh- dressed. Or undressed, depending on how you look at it.” Gurathin laughs.
There is a 91% chance it is a sound made out of embarrassment.
Slowly pulling my eyes back to the augment, I catalogue the new data being presented; his patterned skin is covered in a trail of pink splotches spreading from the tips of his ears, down the length of his pale stomach, ending in a light dusting across the tops of his thighs. He is smiling, which is a good sign, although my original estimate of his feelings of embarrassment have risen from 91% to 100%. There is a shaky quality to his breathing my systems are not yet concerned about, and wrapped around his hips—
—he is wearing panties again. Just as visibly soft and appealing as before. However, they are not the same ones I have logged in my permanent storage. These are pink, the same pink as the horizon of episode 537 of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon during the scene in which Friess is fatally injured. The episode’s contents might be a tad bit depressing, but the scenery was beautiful enough to win them several award nominations in the category of cinematography.
Awards they would have won had the judges not been complete idiots.
“Do you...like them?” Gurathin interrupts my thoughts, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I...yes.” I blink slowly, unable to help myself from move closer, reaching out to touch the rows of embellishments running down the sides of the material. “What are these?”
I take note of the way his stomach muscles tense up beneath my hands. “Bows. They’re decorative. Well, technically it’s all decorative, but-”
It’s my turn to interrupt him, before I begin to feel less bold. “You should lay down now.”
He produces a strange wheezing sound, but nods once, turning for the bed. The doctor has only just managed to get his good knee pressed into the mattress before I remember what I came here to do.
“Wait!”
Gurathin freezes in place, and an electric thrill runs through my mechanics at the sight of him following orders so well. I take my time making my way to his side (ignoring how intimidating the thought of laying together is for now), and once there, press on a compartment in my bracer to open it with a pop. It takes me no time at all to remove the regulation cuffs built into my armor.
Thankfully, limiting the movements of a target is something I actually was designed for. “Put your wrists together.”
He listens immediately, forearms sliding together across a blanket.
My weight temporarily presses Gurathin further into the bed as I reach over him to snap the restraints into place. I then guide him forwards, moving him the way I want him to, until he’s resting on his knees and stomach, arms held taut above his head. It takes only the lightest pressure to his lower back to guide his hips higher.
I tell myself it is for his comfort, but I will admit the sight he makes raises my core temperature considerably.
“I don’t…” Now that I have him here, safe and docile, I feel oddly- lost. While I did some research during Gurathin’s recovery, I could never quite manage to make myself look further into other aspects of these kind of relationships, I had simply assumed I would figure it out in the moment. Although, looking back at it, that was not a particularly data-driven belief on my part. “I don’t know what to do next.”
“You could touch me. Please.” He whines, rubbing his forehead back and forth against the mattress.
“...How do you normally...touch...yourself?”
He sucks in a hard breath at my question. “I don’t- I don’t have very much experience with these sort of things.”
I nod. “According to the SecCam feeds, you are intimate with yourself much less frequently than others such as Ratthi or Pin-Lee. Regardless, I do have deleted footage logged confirming that you have done so on at least two other occasions since my arrival on Preservation Alliance, meaning your experience surpasses my own by...at least two.”
“You really have been spying on me.” Gurathin huffs, but I am almost positive he is expressing delight.
“I deleted the footage when I realized what you were doing.”
He manages to shrug, even while restrained. “...You didn’t have to.”
This causes me to pause while I search for the correct response, until eventually I commit to reaching out from where I stand to splay my hand against his side, fingertips slipping just beneath the material of his panties. “I will remember that next time.”
“That’s good.” The augment sighs, pressing backwards into my touch slightly. “I have...supplies. They’re in the bedside table.”
I reluctantly leave him to seek out these supplies of his, but what I find is puzzling. There is a transparent bottle labeled as lubricant, as well as—“You have gloves.”
“Yes.” The shade of his blush darkens. “They’re latex. I took a pair from the labs on the off-chance you might...want them someday.”
“The gloves are for me?” My facial expression folds in confusion.
“I know that bodily fluids are difficult for you. I thought this might help.” Gurathin’s voice is a whisper against the soft material of his blanket.
Oh. This gesture is extremely considerate. It makes me feel tingly.
“I see.” I do not. Not really.
“You could- um- touch me. Inside. With your- With your fingers.” He goes on to explain.
Ah. Now I do see. The human body is almost too weird and gross to conceptualize. Thankfully, it is much easier to picture enjoying it regardless when it involves Gurathin. “You will tell me if I do something that hurts you.”
“I’ll tell you if you do something I don’t like.” He corrects.
Right. Blinking rapidly, I tug off my own gloves and toss them to the floor to join the doctor’s pile of clothing. I then snap on the black latex gloves in their place, and stare at the bottle in my hand for exactly 1 more second before pouring some of the liquid across my fingers in a mess of cold, clear goop.
As it has been established, I have little data saved on intimate encounters. While taking the time to research common undergarment materials earlier had seemed like a waste, taking the time to download more than one relevant module now feels more like a prerequisite. I stand poised between Gurathin’s spread legs, my armored thighs pressing into the side of the mattress, and wait as my downloads finish.
“Are you okay?” He asks carefully.
Downloads 67% complete.
Downloads 78% complete.
Downloads 84% complete.
Downloads 93% complete.
Downloads 100% complete.
“I’m fine.” I climb onto the bed, slotting myself into the gap Gurathin has left for me. “Don’t move.”
“Oka-” He jerks once against the mattress and freezes as I shove his panties to the side, and rest my pointer finger against the warm center of him.
“If you would allow me access to your feed, I believe it will make this experience more enjoyable for the both of us.” My finger traces perfect circles against his entrance as I wait, using more and more pressure without entering him fully.
“Yes, yeah, that’s a great plan.” He nods rapidly and I use my free hand to gently push his head down into the mattress while he accepts my ping requesting access.
The effect is immediate. I can feel ghosts of need and heat and pressure flooding my organics, I can feel how much he enjoys being held down by me, how badly he wants me to fill him up.
How safe he feels in my presence.
It breaks down my slow, intentional pattern, and has my finger slipping in deeper, just past the distal phalanx. Gurathin produces a wobbly moan, but stays put. As a reward, I run my free hand through his hair in what I hope is an approving manner, and keep going, gently sliding in and out of his wet hole until the muscle softens enough to allow me to press all the way in.
It drags a gasp of surprise out of his chest. Followed by another one when I locate his prostate, and another when I return to my previous pattern of perfect circles directly against that spot, until all he can seem to do is gasp, and gasp, and gasp, sweat already pooling in the dip of his back.
“You should always sound like this.” I whisper matter-of-factly against the back of his neck, adding another finger all at once.
He cries out as his spine bows.
“No moving.” I remind him, slipping my free hand from his hair to the place my mouth had just been, pinning him to the mattress by his neck firmly, while maintaining careful restraint. “Are you going to behave this time?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Gurathin chants, body tense and shaking.
“...Let me do this. Let me- take care of you.” If a SecUnit could feel pain from words alone, the sound of my own desperation would have killed me.
“Anything. You can have anything.” His face had gotten turned to the side when I shoved him down, so I’m able to see it when his big, dark eyes slip shut.
Anything. Anything. Anything. It’s more freedom than I have ever been given before, even after hacking my governor module.
The power of it settles hot and burning across my mesh.
A third finger joins the others, and my movements become rougher, less careful. But I can feel that he likes it, his hazy organic thoughts sending images of my significantly larger hands back down the feed.
This whole experience is never going to be less strange, I doubt it will ever be less good.
“I am impressed, Dr. Gurathin. You are doing very well.” Tears now cling to the augment’s eyelashes, and lubricant warmly drips down the inside of his thighs.
Because the human body insists on constantly being wet.
...I secretly like it though. So long as I don’t have to get any of it on me, I can continue to enjoy the immense relief rolling through his body in waves. The soft little noises of pleasure being pulled from his chest. The red lines across the curve of his bottom from where his panties are biting into his skin.
“You humans are always such messes.” I slip my hand on his neck to one of the lines, dragging my thumb across the mark out of curiosity.
His soft little noises go low and needy. “Please.”
I nod, even though I know he cannot see it, and allow my movements to pick up speed. “You can move now.”
He immediately begins to grind against the mattress with a cry, torn between bouncing backwards onto my gloved fingers and seeking friction for his trapped sex parts. Not that it matters very much. Only a short time passes between giving him permission and when I can feel his frame lock up beneath me, hot, wet liquid (always more liquid) spilling across the sheets.
Gurathin’s breathing is labored, and his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead (ew) in thick, messy pieces, but I save the image he makes to my permanent storage anyways while I still have him calm and restrained.
“I was scared...when you...received damage.” I admit while allowing him to catch his breath.
He takes approximately 6.7 seconds to reply, which is eternal. “...I’m okay.”
“I know.” As I reach up to free his wrists, my eyes fall to the ugly, dark scabs on his side. The marks are going to scar, which is a thought that makes my chest tighten. “I am...still scared.”
“Of what?” He asks gently, while rolling over onto his back, eyes trained on the dark ceiling above.
“You...getting yourself killed.” I continue to stare at his side.
“Well, then it’s a good thing our team has a SecUnit.”
“Annoying.” I remind him, tugging off the latex gloves, and throwing them to the side.
“You said you liked it.” He reminds me smugly.
My optics go to his face, where the corner of his lips are curling upwards. “I said most of the time.”
I can still feel him through the feed, tired and...happy. It takes away some of that fear. Not all of it, but enough that I can awkwardly move to lay beside him. He shimmies closer, still not quite touching, but close enough that my sensors can pick up the heat from his body.
Perhaps this arrangement isn’t as difficult as we previously believed. “Fuck probability software.”
“Hmm?” Gurathin’s head lolls to the side sleepily.
“We should inform the team of the status of our association.”
“I’m pretty sure they know. Or at least, Mensah does. And Bharadwaj. And Ratthi did mention something about ‘keeping my chin up’ when you didn’t visit me in the medbay, so it’s possible he knows as well, which means Pin-Lee and Arada certainly know—you know how he is.” He huffs out a small laugh.
“But...how do they all know?”
“You’re not very good at hiding how you’re feeling.”
How dare he? “That is completely untrue, I am incredibly skilled at maintaining secrets!”
“You kept the fact that you were rogue secret for, what, less than a week?” Gurathin raises an eyebrow.
“That was entirely your fault.” I grumble, shuffling over until that space between us is gone.
He pauses, a slow, full smile finally spreading across his face. “Yes, I am very smart, and you should never underestimate me again.”
I say nothing. And after a while, with his temple resting against my shoulder sensors, I watch the augment’s vital load out on my screen as it informs me that he has fallen asleep. Not that I really need the vital load out anymore, what with the door to his feed still propped open for my digital presence. But I find it reassuring. This is a strange sentiment for a SecUnit to have, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it would have before them. Before PresAux. Before Gurathin. “I wont.”