Chris ‘s legs felt a little better. Thank goodness Preston had kept him sitting, laying or prone for today’s drills. The music is upbeat, warm. Classic music? The really old stuff from way back when? He’d thought that the motor pool would be home to power metal or synthesized music or maybe rap. Or, god forbid, country music. He already could see the HLX-9, looming in the door to it’s office. The mech looked pensive.
“We need to talk.”
Celn pulled the collar from where it was making a bulge in his pocket and put it on. The significantly lightened interface that came though from it didn’t have the dangers that came with a real interface. He patted a hand over the boot as he passed by, looking around the office for a place to sit. THe connection linked up. THis close, Hawker is a presence that he could tangibly sense in his mind.
The room is Hawker-sized. A desk, a computer setup, a concrete and steel assembly that’d probably pass for a chair! Computers all around hummed and vented, screens flickers and showing catalogues of data. No trash can though, a red rag (about the size of a blanket) lay heaped in a corner. Chris notice that around the floor is a concrete lip, and he pulled himself up, letting his legs dangle as he put his back to the wall. Not the most comfortable, but it beat parking his butt on the floor.
“Okay Boss. Why don’t you close the door and we’ll talk? And if you want this off, just say so.” Bandaged, smelling of gunpowder and sweat. That simple, happy smile for the large robot. He didn’t looked scared. There is tension in him, tension that came from knowing there’d be a discussion. Last discussion ended up with him getting thrown around.
Hawker stood, too restless to sit. When his optics finally fell on Chris, there was that damned heat in him again. He could feel those hands ghosting on him again.
“Keep it on,” he grunted. “We might… understand each other better.”
A few more tense moments passed – tense for the mech, at least, Chris seemed as carefree as the day he was born – before he opened his mouth again.
“You forgot to take the collar off before you went to sleep last night.” He let that sink in for a second, watching as the kid’s expression changed. “I saw everything.”
Things bled over where they are this close. It wasn’t just that Chris could sense the machine in the room with hin as the door shut. He could feel the tension in the air.
The big guy had something important to say.
“I saw everything.”
Chris’s heartbeat and breathing paused, then began to race. His face flushed and he wiped his hands together. Squirming where he sat.
He swallowed, looking up at Hawker. <How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this, I can’t lie to him..> If he couldn’t lie then, well..
“I want you Hawker. And not just as a mech to pilot.” he could barely believe it as the words came out of his mouth! So easy to confess. “If you saw me thinking about you when I had my hands on my dick? Well.. that’s how I feel. It’s what being near you has me fantasizing about.”
Then he smirked, purposing looking at the codpiece, then back up to Hakwer’s expressive face. “I like you, big bot. Could easily do more then ‘like’ too. You’re a top quality man.”
Chris squirmed under his gaze, and he could feel over their connection the anxiety rise in him. The color drained from his face and he chewed on his lip, wrung his hands a little. Hawker just stood like a black monolith in the dim room, slowly balling his hand into a fist and opening it again.
But that anxiety dissipated, replaced by the human’s own restlessness. There was no lying across a link. The only weapon you had was brutal honesty, and Chris owned it.
“If you saw me thinking about you when I had my hands on my dick? Well.. that’s how I feel. It’s what being near you has me fantasizing about.”
Hawker vented harshly, but kept his face straight, tried keeping his emotions in check while he listened to his pilot.
Then his eyes lowered.
“I like you, big bot. Could easily do more then ‘like’ too. You’re a top quality man.”
What the mech wasn’t expecting that he’d do was close the distance between the two of them, reach down and grab him by his feet, and yank him down to the floor underneath him. A massive hand planted itself off to the side, and Hawker was suddenly looking down at a very tiny human on his back. His pupils had dilated.
“You sure?” the mech asked, low and deep, struggling to shield his desire across their connection.
Chris winced as he hit the ground, the flash of pain lancing across the connection. The mech is impossibly fast when it wanted to be! His ears rang lightly and the handsome face of Hawker filled his vision.
That what surface, the yellow eyes, those lips. THose teeth! He lifted up his hand, as if to touch the moon. To touch the face of god. His god. Just out of reach.
Blood pumped through his veins, he should be terrified! He should fear the way that hand slammed down nearby; how easily that he could be under it.
He could lose Hawker too. Lose everything he worked for so far. There could be rejection paperwork waiting for him right now!
But, he wouldn’t lie. Not now. He lowered his hand, wiping off his face. “Utterly. I’m yours Hawker.”
For some reason, he felt arousal, and not just for himself. He didn’t know about the special equipment the mech had. “I want to love ya, wanna kiss ya. Wanna figure a way to get you off. Even if it means jacking off while I’m jacked in.”
“I want to love ya, wanna kiss ya. Wanna figure out a way to get you off. Even if it means jacking off while I’m jacked in.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, bringing his mouth in close. Olfactories took in his scent: gunpowder, gun oil, the musk of clean sweat. He liked those smells. They were familiar.
His teeth grazed along that slight shoulder, down his chest. His nose pressed sharply into the kid’s skin through the shirt as he slaked his oral curiosity. His other hand kneaded along Chris’s side. Fingers thick as his bicep grabbed hard but not too hard. Hard was for later. Hopefully.
“Chris, you’re going to hurt,” he murmured. He said it so matter-of-factly. Shadowy images of what the mech was wanting to do leaked out over their connection, but still he withheld concrete information. If he was being given a blank check, then he didn’t want to spend it all in one place. “If you’re not OK with that we need to stop right now.”
Chris arched up his back, the touch.. the needy touch of the monster-sized machine thrilled him. It re-woke old pains in his side, the fingers seeming to know where the bruises were. And pressed down. Slow wellings of desire and pain flowed through the connection.
Chris untied his boots, squirming as the big mouth came close. He kicked them off. Socks went too.
His warm hands slid over the sides of the machine’s face. Hawker could feel the urges of his pilot. Confused thoughts. He could sense what’d been run across their shared connection. Shaded ideas.
Things Hawker had never been allowed to do. Permitted to do. Things he NEEDED to do. Chris would be his canvas. His toy.
A toy which couldn’t hide from him.
Chris pulled off his shirt. Bare chested, just his sweats and jockstrap left on him. He leaned up and kissed the clean, white forehead of the 15 foot tall machine as it’s hands gave him another squeeze.
“Loving you means hurting.” he.. he is excited? He’s nursing a chub at the prospect!
“Take care of me when we finish.” that is a command. “And..” he swallowed, his dick barely contained by that cotton pouch. He SHOOK with wanton lust, it flowed up the connection like heroin. “..I want to learn what it takes you to break me.” he panted, hand shaking as it touched along the cheek of the giant.
“Then, to do it again!”
The L-word made Hawker want to laugh, but he withheld. He didn’t want to tell Chris what he was about instead – he’d show him.
“I want to learn what it takes me to break.”
That hand, hot now, trembling, touched his face. It didn’t even cover his whole cheek. The mech couldn’t imagine having it any other way.
“Then, do it again!”
That was all he needed.
Hawker’s mouth was on his little one, his hands pinning Chris’s arms roughly to his sides. Those lips were even softer than they looked, mouth so goddamn small, so easily overtaken by his. It was delicious. Denta scraped and nipped at the plumping flesh, and when he pulled away to look hungrily on his handiwork he liked what he saw: reddened lips, swollen. He dove in again.
“I’ve been wanting to break you since our first link up,” he growled into Chris’s bared neck. “I guess this is what I had in mind the whole time.”
One of his hands drifted downward, thumb passing over the straining jockstrap under his sweats.
Hawker’s kiss didn’t just cover his lips with the robot’s own. Hawker is three times the size of his pilot, the kiss brought him in with a suction that refused to yield. Those teeth worked like shears, the large lips on his nose, cheeks and chin.
He couldn’t move, his arms and legs are pinned to his side, he is helpless to resist. He didn’t want to resist!
Just being kissed by the big bot is painful. He smiled, head tilting and exposing his vulnerable neck to that mouth. He needed more!
“I could feel it.” Chris admitted to the need to be broken. His lips working around, red and puffy. “You in control of us. You in control of me. It’s what’s right.”
His hips rolled upward, pushing his hidden inches past that thumb with eager lust. So cute, so helpless. So fragile.
“It’s what’s right.”
Those words went straight to his pleasure pathways and he groaned the groan of a machine – part deep guttural rumbling, part downshifting of his engines, part air intake blasting nuclear-powered heat out his backside, part yawning hydraulics… all torque.
Lee, wherever you are, I hope to god you’re not looking.
Hawker wanted to tear the sweats to shreds, but Kole would get pissed. So he settled for yanking them down past the kid’s ankles, leaving nothing but the flimsy jock. He liked the look, but it had to go too. He pulled that down just enough to get a glimpse of Chris’s little length, upright in the warming air.
<Helpless.> He echoed the sentiment back at Chris, relishing the lusty feedback loop it created. <Fragile. And you know what else is cute? Bugs and toys.>
So help him he wanted to touch it. But he was going to draw this out. So with a single fingertip, he pushed Chris’s length against his belly and watched as the kid’s hips lifted futilely into the air.
His own heat was building, building. It was going to take all he had to save that little surprise for later, wasn’t it?
Chris is a toy in the hands of a lust-filled god. Those sounds Hawker made, he’d never heard such a masculine noise. He knew he is going to ache, and ache hard when all is said and done. The hurricane of emotions that taxed their wireless connection threatened to burn out the little transmitter. Not that Chris cared, he’d beg to go into the cockpit if it broke now.
<Yours.> He sent back and he meant it. The concept of being helpless filled him as he is stripped. Almost naked, he bent his knees and shucked off the sweats.. Just a collar around his neck and the jock peeling away from his arousal. He throbbed, the massive finger smooshing his dick down. A finger that could crush a car. The same digit compressing his cock. He shuddered, feet kicking as he pressed against the touch.
He is held in one hand, the fingers and thumb pinning his arms to his sides. Hawker smirked down at him, his normally stoic face warped by their shared lust.
When the finger lifted, a single string of precum connected the digit to the shaft. Chris knew how little he was in comparison. How he couldn’t stop the machine, and how he need it to do with him what it wanted!
<Do it!> he could feel -something- building up within hawker. SOmething that the mech had always kept hidden. Would it hurt him? Bite him? Shock him? He wasn’t sure, but he wanted the machine to be free. Free to be itself with it’s pilot and toy. <I want to watch, let me have it Hawker..>
The neural reverb that fed Chris’s state of mind to the mech lit up his reward centers like the Fourth of July. It was addicting.
Hawker stared fervently at the thin thread of precum as he drew his finger away. It caught the brightening light from his optics and glowed a searing golden yellow before breaking. Underneath him, Chris was like a pale, gorgeous ghost against the dark floor. The mech threw him into deep shadow, with only the glow of computer screens lighting the room behind him.
<I want to watch, let me have it Hawker..>
It had gotten difficult to keep the secret to himself now; his ability to shield was decaying, what with them being so close, and their minds on fire with the same thoughts. Fuck it.
Hawker rose up onto his knees, hips high above Chris’s head. One hand went to the hard block between his thighs, stroking it a few times and giving a faint thrust into the air as he looked down at the kid. The human. The fragile, fleshy prey.
The well-concealed seams in his plating parted with a few quiet clicks, and he allowed himself to pressurize. His machine-shaft was at firm attention, pointing out and following a slight upward curve. His own little bead of precum glistened at the hole at the end, before running down the bulbous head and dripping onto Chris’s chest like spit from the maw of an animal.
Every inch of Hawker was hungry.
The kid’s startled, eager surprise made him impatient to use it.
“I’m not sure if you can handle it, greenhorn,” he rumbled with a smirk. Even connected, words seemed to convey just that much more dominance. He could come at Chris like a wall in neurospace, but there was just something about running his tongue over his teeth after saying the words that made him harder. “Preston can’t teach you about this one.”
The human shuddered as the mech kneeled over him. He is weak, soft, and fragile in comparison. He knew it, he reveled in the contrast between himself and Hawker. And he savored the view, the robot stroking it’s groinal plates, knees to his sides, the way it smirked down over it’s pecs to him.
<Fuck, you’re the sexiest guy in the world.> The revving of those engines is getting loud. He loved it.
Then IT pushed out. Chris gasped. Somehow, seeing a cock that is large enough to suit the machine made his dreams even better.
But oh no, the big bruiser wasn’t content to let him stare, unblinking with his jaw on his chest. Oh no. Hawker stroked that mighty pylon. He is laying on the floor, propped up with his elbows. A hand curiously came up and rubbed at the stuff. Lubricant? Slick for sure. Hot, from the machine that made it. He brought his fingers to his nose. Smelled mechanical.
“Safe to eat? Please tell me I can lick you up.” He returned his attention to where it belonged. His cock humped, spitting clear stands of his arousal.
At the mention of Preston, the rookie chuckled. “Pretty sure this isn’t in the manual. You’re going to have to do repeated, one on one sessions before I’m familiar with that piece of field artillery. Mmmph. Gonna have to work hard to solo your crew-served weapon.”
“Please tell me I can lick you up.”
Lick him up? The mech was picturing Chris coughing him up.
“You’re going to have to do repeated; one on one sessions before I’m familiar with that piece of field artillery. Mmmph. Gonna have to work hard to solo your crew-served weapon.”
Hawker barked a laugh. Then he motioned for his pilot to stand with a single jerk of his finger. “Back to the wall, kid. Let’s see what you got.” He did as told, and the mech quickly had him pinned between his huge hips and the wall. The base of Hawker’s cock was at chest-level with the slim young man, and as he slowly pushed it against him it slid up the concrete beside his head. Hawker’s hands braced against the wall as he slowly, slowly thrust, threatening to crush the human against his thick, heavy length.
“Put your mouth on it,” he ordered, voice deep and dark. “Kiss it like it’s the last goddamn cock you’ll ever get, boy.” Then: <When I’m done with you, it’ll be the last one you’ll ever want.>
Chris slid the straps of the jockstrap down, leaving it on the floor as he moved into position. There is something deliciously threatening about Hawker aroused. The way the kneeling machine eagerly moved to him. The way it’s knees hit the wall to his sides, one arm above as it loomed and leered down. The mech’s motions mirrored the way a human partner might act, down to the hand adjusting the angle of the dick, pressing it to his partner’s mouth.
Except that instead of it going into his mouth, Chris’s mouth went into it! For a long, lewd second he stared down that heavy length. He saw the ‘No Step’ stencil, felt the heated metal and laughed himself. Then he got a taste.
It tasted good. He always had a thing for robots, for machines. Now he had tons of robot, feet of cock to savor; the hot synthetic lubricant made him moan as it coated his tongue.
Chris brouth of his warm hands, stroking behind the glands. He fondled and rubbed where he’d want to be touched on his own dick. Not that any other cock could compare after this! He Shuddered and gave in. HIs tongue slurped inside, the lust and NEED to be claimed echoing up the connection.
He can think talk too, another pleasant use for the collar with his mouth being busy. Hearing those words, being stuck, confined to this position. Fuck he felt happy!
<YES SIR!> he responded, swallowing greedily.
Hawker almost came then and there. The sight of Chris’s face so eagerly working away at his cockhead, mouth so occupied, and hearing him think the words… it was one of the hottest things he’d ever felt.
Then there was that tongue. Those lips. Electricity surged down his shaft with every stroke of that hot, wet little muscle, with every grazing of those teeth. The little human lapped and stroked, finding spots that laced his optic feed with hazy, blissful static.
“Mmm,” he thrummed deep inside his chest. Hawker dropped one of his hands to cup Chris’s face, to gently stroke with his massive thumb before grabbing harshly. It felt amazing, but… <I don’t think you’re hurting enough, rook.> his thumb lowered to the young man’s throat, just above the adam’s apple. He pressed down into that soft tissue, feeling the almost instinctual rapid swallowing as the human’s body scrambled to figure out how much air could still pass down the tightening windpipe; thick head still pressed relentlessly to Chris’s face.
Hawker promised a breaking. Now it was time to start pushing buttons.
<Struggle for me, boy.>
And he wasn’t going to let up until Chris couldn’t even think straight.
The collar dutifully transmitted Chris’s vitals. Hawker would know if the rook is in real danger, down to his blood oxygen levels. Chris rubbed his lips around the exit to that shaft, slicking and slobbering over the metal surface as his face got coated with lubricant.
He ULKED! The thumb squeezed, perhaps just a tiny bit. Chris suddenly became aware how vulnerable and fragile he really is. The merest of touches and he got shocked with fear as his body panicked. The continuous flow of liquid pooled in his mouth, he coughed it up and gurgled, squirming in that grip. He didn’t tap out through.
The robotic digit kept up it’s pressure, and gagged on the thick slippery stuff. He coughed again, it poured down his chin and past this red lips. Briefly he rests his hands on the top of that cock, hanging on.
Then he hugged it, swallowing and getting back to his duty. He sputters and struggled, but he didn’t give up. Pleasing his 15 foot tall mech is more important then breathing. He NEEDED to experience Hawker cumming!
The mech’s face twisted into a brutal grin that creased his cheek and showed denta as he watched his young pilot choke on him. Hawker wanted, craved a flash of real fear, and when he pressed his thumb across the rook’s throat the faintest bit harder, he was rewarded with a clear surge of adrenaline, a jump in heart rate, and a delicious sputtering as he struggled to keep up.
The kid soldiered on though, dutifully planting that hot wet mouth back at Hawker’s cockhead and working the slick across its enormous tip.
Clearly, Chris needed to be pushed more. He could feel that he wanted nothing more than to see Hawker come, but that would be a reward he had to earn. Had to suffer for.
With a low growl Hawker ripped himself away and got up onto his feet, bringing Chris with him and pinning him against the wall again with his chest, this time ten feet from the ground. The wind was knocked out of the little human, but the mech barely gave him time to recover before diving in for that shoulder and taking it harshly between his teeth. Fingers raked up his thighs, dragging, squeezing, bruising. His cock was missing that little mouth so he rutted lazily against the wall, smearing his fluid along the concrete.
<Such a flimsy little toy,> he said dangerously. <I could kill you if I wasn’t careful…>
His enormous, hard-edged metal body, that white face gleaming in the dark, those yellow optics boring into him would be all that Chris could see. Several tons of killing machine bearing down on him, walking the fine line between mere pain and lethal force.
Hawker removed his teeth from Chris’s shoulder, and saw that it was red and already bruising in handsome crescent-shaped bite marks. He dipped his head to do the same to the kid’s upper arm, and he’d continue until Chris was blue and purple and loving every goddamn minute of it. Colburn be damned.
Chris could feel the mountain of lust that is aimed at his face. The restraint Hawker continuously had to employ! All day, every day being careful and limiting himself. Never able to be free to enjoy what his mechanised body can to do a human. Then his treat gets taken away, he watched the shaft get pulled from his grip and go upward to dangle far above his head. There lay a lovely mark on his neck from the metallic thumb.
Before he could even get a full breath, his legs are sandwiched between the wall and Hawker’s pectoral plates! The WEIGHT that pressed him is akin to being hit by car, crushing, unyielding and smashing him senseless. He saw stars, and coughed up more of the mech’s lubricant. That face came closer, eyes glowing, lips pulled back and the huge teeth parting.
<..no.. don’t..> So cute when the fragile organics couldn’t think right after just a little bump to the head. He didn’t need to think, as those teeth bit down his cock jumped and he moaned, his need speaking where his thoughts failed.
The skin felt GOOD to bite, the bones and joints of the human shifting under pressure. No one to stop the mech, no cries for mercy, just a pilot who needed to be utterly consumed. Lips on his arm, he sucked in air and watched, the way those eyes stayed on his face, the smirk as his limb went into that mouth! The tongue teasing. The teeth, the pressure increasing.
Chris began to cry. It HURT! THe pain of his hand and elbow, the way his muscles are ground between the teeth of the giant.
His cock threatened to unload, then an there.
“AAAH! Please!” <more> I.. I don’t.. <More.> AUGH!” Cheeks and eyes red and wet, he huffed and cried out, unable to physically speak. <MORE!>
Those delicious cries of pain was like music to his audio receptors. Hawker relished every time the human’s voice rose to a higher note, every time his breath caught in his throat, every time a gasp mingled with a moan. Teeth on soft flesh again. Muscle shifted, revealing bone, and he raked against the fascinatingly hard substrate. Popsicle sticks of calcium.
But the kid’s sudden sob was a sound he wasn’t expecting to love.
Under other circumstances, Hawker might have let Chris come first, but not today. He was too filled with need, too drunk on his own power. He was coming first, and right now, right here, his word was law.
One more bite. He hiked Chris up, taking his firm, shapely thigh in between his teeth and sucked, licked, coating the skin with lubricant before clamping down. The mech would have been lying to himself if he said he didn’t have to fight the sudden urge to bite all the way through. Images of blood dripping down his white chin appeared out of nowhere. The crunch of bone. Ripping flesh. But that’s all they were – images. He was not interested in murder. Though, he couldn’t deny that the thoughts, and the fearful reaction of his helpless morsel of prey who was powerless to ignore them, made his cock twitch. In the end, all that was left on Chris was another purple crescent bruise.
He quickened his pace even more now, growing impatient for his climax. With a fluid motion he fisted Chris with one hand and all but threw him down on his desk before lifting a knee onto its surface beside him, crouching low as the weight of his fat shaft rested on the young man’s small, battered body. He could feel the smaller straining prick against the underside of his length, he could feel its desperate heat.
Engines revved. “You’ve been such a good boy, Chris,” he growled with that smile. “I think you’ve earned your captain’s load.”
As his left arm fell from that MASSIVE HUNGRY mouth, Chris felt a wash of relief flow over him. Sweat beaded on his face, dripping down his nose. The oversized face near him held an expression of greedy lust. THe visions of destruction flowed unspoken between pilot and AI. He squirmed! His hands on the hand holding him, pushing futilely against the palm; the left arm struggled, the perfect bruises adding to the intensity of the moment.
Hawker could see that Chris knew of the intent behind his upcoming actions. When the great rows of teeth merely threatened his leg he screamed! Hands scrabbled over the massive face, unable to do more then push and gently impact on the white ‘skin.’ Genuine fear, fear of being consumed by something greater, and unable to prevent it from happening. He tenses, expecting the worse as the pressure intensified.
THe room became a blur, then he lay on a surface again. Feet of dick pressed him down, sliding, grinding, pressing into his body and against his intense arousal that hadn’t flagged.
“I think you’ve earned your captain’s load.”
His good arm and leg lifted, the bitten ones raised up to nudge. In his dazed state he licked, kissed and suckled at the blunt head that pressed repeated to his face in short, needy jabs. Hawker owned him. COntrolled him. And in this moment, Chris completely belonged to the AI and they both knew it.
“Please,” the tearstained boy begged. He ached. He’d worked so hard to give the pleasure his Captain needed. The pain the both desired. The bruises ached against that heavy girth. Every thrust from his eager, unstoppable mech brought a fresh wave of pleasure and a chaser of pain. He wanted to be fucked, wanted to be cummed on. Wanted to be held against that spurting tip and filled uncontrollably!
“Give me your load!”
Chris was his. Undeniably, irrevocably, completely his. He’d been marked by the giant’s violent need, and they’d stay on his skin for weeks. Not even the pilot suit would hide them all.
“Please…” That quivering, pleading voice. Chris’s mind was a maelstrom of churning, conflicting emotions. He wanted this to end, he wanted this to go on forever. He wanted mercy, he wanted more. No, yes!
Release valve tripped, and a bloom of electricity filled his every circuit. His free hand pressed down on his length as he rolled his hips forward with quick, powerful strokes, sandwiching it between his fingers and Chris’s trembling body. Inside, that delectable pumping action, and an instant later his huge machine dick was spurting its geysers of hot, clear cum.
“Yeah,” Hawker growled furiously. “Yeah! Take it you fuckin’ pathetic scab!”
It shot Chris in the face, got in his hair, his mouth, all over his hands and chest. It shot thick globs across his desk. Even overcome with the hottest, most perfect pleasure he had ever experienced since his memory wipe, Hawker made sure to send a clear command across their link as he sensed Chris growing desperate for his own release: <You come when I say you can come, human.>
Hawker was thrusting! The desk rocked, motors whined, and hydraulics pistoned. THe fat and lengthy shaft pushed into him, squeezing him down, using him to bring the AI pleasure. It bashed into his face, punching him, blocking the looming view of how the huge face snarled and took in the view from below. That smirk! That smile as the moment happened.
The heat of the fluid is what he’d remember, how it nearly seared him, hotter then he’d ever want a shower to be. It blasted outward with pulses, not a continuous flow like a hose. It wasn’t neat, it wasn’t like a firehose. It was organic, lewd and dominating! Globs of mechanical cocksnot splattered onto him. He opened his mouth and got fed without restraining. He couldn’t place the taste, outside of something artificial. It’s Hawker’s cum, his essence, his pleasure.
Take it you fuckin’ pathetic scab!
<ohfuckyes> Came his jumbled thoughts. Being beaten down, physically and mentally submitting to his superior officer. He reveled in the sensations coursing through him. He took his slickened hand down, wanting to get off while the joyous orgasam pushed over the connection.
The unspoken command hit him hard, and he obeyed. He push upward with his chest, He squirmed, he did everything he could to make sure that he wrung every moment of sexual release from the machine. Hawker would tell him when he would be allowed to get off. And that made waiting for it all the better.
He watched with rapt attention as the twink underneath him ate up his spunk like it was the elixir of life. He was still hard. He could do it all over again if he wanted – that was just how his inorganic anatomy worked. Chris’s mouth still felt amazing on his now-taxed sensor nets. A lazy groan slipped out of him before he removed himself from the desk.
The mech’s lust for violence was sated for now, and fondness was beginning to come back to the fore.
Hawker bent his head down and trailed a soft line with his tongue down Chris’s belly, dragging it through his own fluids, until he came to the human’s modest erection. “You did good, kid,” he murmured, his voice now that of a warmer authority. The mech looked down at its enticing shape as it bobbed and reached up for him. “Now that’s it… be good for me again.”
His tongue circled around the base of his cock, dipped down to lick at his tight little balls before taking them gently into his mouth and kneading them with his tongue some more. Their mouthfeel amused him. He let those go after a few moments and lifted his optics to watch Chris’s face as he pressed the flat of his huge tongue to the entire underside of his cock and gave a maddeningly slow lick. The kid was trying with all his might not to come there and then, and with that cool smugness, he closed his lips around the entire shaft down to the hilt.
Chris’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to touch himself so much right now! He’d never really denied himself when he’d been so close, and now the intense pressure in his balls made it hard to think at all. Oh that tongue!
He panted, the boy rolling his hips eagerly at first. THen having to hold still. THe warm and slippery oral appendage of the machine lazily caressed him. Then the lips parted.
Chris felt his dreams coming true before his eyes. If Hawker killed him now, he’d go with the stupid, adoring happy look he had on his face right now. Bite marks on his soft skin, bruises and bandages. Every single one a mark of who owned him, who used his body.
The mouth descended over his groin and every part of what made him male sat just inches from those teeth. He shuddered. Those swelling orbs were licked and savored, their promising bounty held back only by command.
His will power is rapidly eroding, he could feel the inevatable building of his orgasm. THe lips puckered tight and took him to the base! Chris couldn’t stop himself! His shaft flexed, his breath held, every muscles tense under his skin as he loomed over the precipice and desperately tighten up to stop. He’d come up off the desk, resting on his fists, heels; with the back of his head down, his whole body arched upward.
He couldn’t speak as he shook. A single thought, endlessly repeated filled the mental connection as the gelatinous artifical cum dripped off his slender frame onto the desk below.
For about two seconds. Then he came and came as hard as his prostate could pump! He fired eight volleys onto that tongue, before he went to a dribble and poured out as he writhed in blissful pleasure. Salty, slight bitter. Thick too, and it sprayed with eager intensity. With all the protein he’d been packing away, it’s little wonder why he had such a pleasing volume. For a tiny human.
THe release brought with it an orgasmic high he never felt before. Hawker’s face looked down on him like a smiling buddha.
THe aches on his body, masked by the need to spurt became apparent, But he didn’t care. He’d made the big bot happy; and in return had the best sex of his life. He could only moan and finish in that mouth, not willing to move further.
Over the wireless, the mech felt the hazy warmth of Chris’s post-coital bliss, and his own cybernetic satiation mingled back.
Hawker nibbled gently at his pilot’s better shoulder and murmured: “Good boy.” Then he stepped back from the desk to survey his handiwork.
Chris was covered in marks. Scrapes and dull splotches from earlier encounters, and on top of them now were layered fresh colors, vibrant in their pinks and purples. One of the bite marks was already showing the slightest hint of blue where the bone was close to the skin – a deeper hemorrhage – that gave the mech a little jolt of sadistic pride.
…he was a sadist then, wasn’t he?
Hawker’s buzz tempered and the smile faded. He looked down; his own cock was still jutting proudly out, but he forced it back behind its plating so he could once again resemble the HLX-9 that everyone thought they knew. The towel was still in the corner. He grabbed it, buffing himself out where he spied Chris’s handprints, and set the thing down beside the human so he could clean himself up when he was ready.
The mech checked the time – they’d been holed away in here for the better part of an hour, and it occurred to him that Colburn might be getting suspicious again.
What the fuck was either of them supposed to say to Colburn? That Chris had a self-professed fetish for his superior officer, and that the aforementioned superior officer had a fetish for beating the shit out of humans? The both of them being cops no less! The thin blue line – yeah, sure. The only ‘thin blue line’ Hawker could think of right now was the one slowly forming on his pilot’s arm.
Was this all too good to be true?
Hawker was growing antsy, so he turned back to Chris, capturing his chin in his oversized hand and brushing a thumb along his cheek. “Chris,” he said, echoing the exact words that got them here in the first place, “We need to talk.”
The Chopin was playing again in the background.