Dr. Morris is beyond human and she enjoyed using the extra time between moments to study the world around her. Sarah had worry etched into her face, and now Bea knew it wasn’t from a mistake or a glitch in Hawker’s stability system. The cheif engineer was worried that an error 8 years ago was coming back to haunt her. And it wasn’t fair to blame the police engineer, she had spend countless hours trying to rescue that metallic giant.
And what success! Without the effort of Big Nine, there would hell on the streets of the windy city.
Hawker watched the pilot. And not with a passing glance, it would continually keep it’s visual sensors on the young human. As Chris walked up the short flight of stairs onto the lab platform, he kicked his toe on the uppermost step. A little half stumble that most people would forget in a second. The tall robot paused for a sixtieth of a second, judging.
The deep field 2 is checking to make sure that even a tiny misstep wouldn’t .. hurt? No. It didn’t move to catch the human. It was watching for critical damage then?
“Hello Mr. Celn. Hello Captain Hawker. It’s been at least 6 years sense I’ve seen you.” The transhumanist held her elbow with one hand and stroked along her artifical with the other. “I know you’ve plenty to accomplish, and I’m here as a favor to CF Colburn. We’ve noticed some interesting developments in the operational fractals of your cortex recursion loop.”
“We have the equipment here tuned to allow a monited pass through.” Colburn explained; “It will feel like you’ve just plugged into the HLX cockpit. You’ll have a number of exercises, questions, and interactions to work through as a team.”
“Uh, Ma’ams, what exactly is expected of us? SHould I be attempting any specific goals?” Chris asked, feeling like he had NO clue what the women were talking about.
“Try and act as cohesively as possible. We’ll be watching where your minds come together. The gears meshing between organic and synthetic.” Morris dumed it down. A cute young man, but not the the most educated. She pulled up his profile for the 6th time that hour.
Hmm. Perhaps it was that lack of formative education in his life? All AIs had to self-determine when in their education, Chris might just -think- a bit more like his AI partner? SO many unanswered questions! What were they doing that is creating such immense growth in those dormant areas? If Bea could re-create that kind of effect, it might solve some of the worst problems with AI development!
Or it could be a lucky fluke. Chris had abnormally high scores for a specialist. Perhaps he simply got lucky on his implant.
Chris felt the normal grasp of the automated interface. He couldn’t’ see, but closeby was hawker.
So very close.
And then, the monitored connection formed.
Eight hours later, the system shut down safely. Chris felt wiped out, he didn’t even move off the chair.
“This data is excellent.” Dr Morris’s pleased voice echoed, as it had in neurospace. “What do you think Sarah?”
Colburn had been dreading this moment. Letting the caged monster back with it’s prey. They had been friendly. Chris got swallowed within the shell of the AI, then they simply functioned. She’d been able to verify that Hawker was NOT somehow getting into Chris’s mind. That implanted failsafe still is working.
The only moments that’d raised concern was during the final separation. The feed had gone fuzzy for three seconds, just an explosion of color. Usually the result of emotion venting? But both seemed complete calm.
“I think that Clen needs to sleep, and that Hawker’s batteries are around 5%.”
“The data! I can return in a few weeks.” her fingers danced with lighting quickness over the controls.
“I know Morris. I don’t have an opinion right now. Celn, I want a word. We can talk over dinner.”
Before he stumbled off, Chris got a few seconds in the elevator with both Colburn and Hawker. She had purposely stood between them.
A fleeting touch of his partner’s hand, before the robot had to go down to recharge.
Dinner was in pay cafeteria 4, the one near Colburn’s normal office. “Do two did very well in the simulations. I did have an opinion, I just didn’t want to tell Bae about it. I don’t want you too either.”
“I’m not sure what.. why.. I ..” Chris had devoured his dinner, and he looked absolutely mentally worn down.
“You don’t fight his control. He’s able to work with machine precision, and you just guide him along. But that means you’re having to be deeply connected, it’s why you’re burning through so many calories.”
Chris burped and tapped his chest, feeling some relief. “But that’s how this is supposed to work. Right?”
“Yes. You’re doing it right out of the gate. You dropped into Hawker and it’s like Davidson left you the keys. I’m worried because what happens if you stop getting along so well?”
That one rolled around and bounced about in his mind. FOr about four minutes. “Then I’d have to work around that. Make up.”
“Yeah. And what if that happens when he’s got you close?”
THis time, he had a fast answer “You’ll just have to trust him like I do.”
Chris had an immense smile on his face. He’d gotten into regular exercise, Hawker working him in the gym. More basic training. Still, they hadn’t been allowed to have -any- private time with the full 15 foot vanguard. Outside of moment in a closet or abusing the elevator’s stop, it had been rough. But Chris would make it.
He held up the costume, one very large batman. Chris had a nightwing for himself, nuts to robin. “C’mon Boss. YOu’ve got the voice down perfect already.”
Dr. Bea Morris had had a little more work done since he’d last seen her for one of his final follow-up screenings after the wipe. Looks like the RA had spread not only to both hands, but one of her elbows as well. And her eyes – claimed by cataracts maybe? – now a gorgeous blue. The same type as Roman’s, but a much more elegantly modern design. They flicked about the room with keen purpose.
Well this was interesting, the mech decided. He knew that Colburn had made a copy of his AI the day before – the damn process took almost an hour – and he knew that she’d recruited her old friend to take a gander at it. Make sure the giant robot wasn’t fucked in the head. But this was the first time that he’d been allowed in to see what they’d uncovered.
The screens, he noticed during the quick stolen glances, painted a curious picture. A 7.6% growth in new neural networks since he and Chris first linked up that day during the tryouts. 5.9% of that growth appeared to be in emotional proficiencies and the building up of emotionally-charged data.
For the rest of the session, Hawker watched Chris like a… well, hawk. It was amusing to see him from this perspective, to imagine that that was his cockpit seat and his interface array, but some part of him ached in his chest, wishing that the kid was inside, dammit. Surrounded. Secure. Safe. The Vanguard frame hung over him like a giant phantom limb, and the mech wanted nothing more than to feel that little body settle into him like the massive, dangerous vessel that he was and warm him from the inside out.
The small Hawker folded his arms and shifted his weight along his feet, just watching.
The 8 hours passed quickly. A little too quickly, actually, and the mech had almost forgotten that he was battery-powered for now. Whoops. And he wasn’t exactly surprised when Colburn, frowning, face creased with concern, pulled Chris away for dinner. She’d put herself between them like a wall, and the mech didn’t even dare try looking his pilot’s way. All he got was the brush of a finger against a hand as the two left.
The time that they were allowed to have together was satisfactory. Physical, at least. Though they couldn’t flirt with such lewd shamelesness as they had in previous training sessions, Hawker managed to cop several feels and even gave a hug after Chris goaded him into one by flashing that winning smile of his and promising a kiss.
The other regulars to the motor pool were relaxing around the captain now, though he still didn’t feel much like one. It was, he guessed, due in no small part to his more human scale. Everything he loved about being 15 feet and 6 tons were the very things that put others on edge, and thanks to recent ‘events’, were things that they were suddenly very wary of. With Lee, it’d been no big deal; in fact, he’d practically been the mascot for 42. But now he had to earn their trust all over again. And if that meant letting the #9081 gather dust for a few days, then so be it.
Earning that trust, apparently, also meant making an appearance to a costume party. He’d been invited, even. If he went, this would mark a few firsts: first time walking the pilot’s wing with his own feet, and his first time partaking in one of 42’s infamous Halloween parties.
“C’mon Boss. YOu’ve got the voice down perfect already.”
Hawker grabbed the silly thing from Chris and held it up for himself to scrutinize. “I’ve never worn clothes before,” he announced, “And I’m not about to start.” Then he draped the black ensemble over Chris’ head. “Besides, I heard that that damn newshawk might be poking around again. Not too keen on getting myself in a situation where I’m tempted to dislocate his jaw. Which, apparently, is every moment I’m around him.”
Chris freed his head from the fabric with a grumble, and Hawker realized that the costume probably came out of his own pocket. “It… would be fun to see your room, though,” he offered, trying to figure out if there was a way of getting out of wearing the costume without coming across as a complete jerk. Maybe if he saw the supposedly matching costume that Chris was going to be wearing, he might be convinced…
Chris rested the Batman cowl on the table, next to the bag that held the rest of the costume. He stripped down to just his jockstrap, pulling out his costume. Wen gave him a whistle and Chris just shook his head. No privacy down here in the motor pool. SHe had her T5 dolled up like RIpley’s suit from aliens, and her costume is on point; even had a rubbery exo to hang from the big hand.
He pulled on one of the older pilot suits, one of Lee’s. It gave the cute twink muscles he truly didn’t have yet, made him look like a pint-sized powerhouse. It had areas on the back, chest, shoulders and boots that are painted with a shining blue. He’d gotten to the black areas as well, buffed to a shine that reflected off the ambient light. Nightwing from the batman universe. The Robin that grew up and became a Batman in his own right.
He didn’t have the gloves or accessories on yet, and the zipper wasn’t pulled all the way up. His hair had grown to be just long enough, and he had the black paint to go around his eyes and a fitted mask that would stick to his face.
“Please?” A word he hadn’t had a chance to use that often. “You don’t have to stay the whole time. Get in your grab, take the photos and socialize for an hour or so. Pretty much everyone will be in there.”
The small human turned, showing off his enhanced backside as he worked on applying the small amount of makeup.
“You do have a point. We probably could get some time in my room if you dressed up and came up to our little zone on the 8th floor.”
Wen gave the greenhorn a wolf whistle, and Hawker laughed. “Took the words right out of my mouth,” he called to her, and her own giggle echoed around the concrete fleet bays.
As he pulled the half-finished costume on, the mech set his feet apart, rested his chin in his hand and cocked his head. “Well look at that,” he lilted, surveying the view for a moment before reaching out and yanking the zipper up the rest of the way. “You make a pretty good lookin’ sidekick.”
“You don’t have to stay the whole time. Get in your grab, take the photos and socialize for an hour or so. Pretty much everyone will be in there.”
“If you’ll be hanging on my arm looking like that, then… that’s a hard-driven bargain,” he chuckled. “Well… alright.”
Hawker picked up the cowl again – at least it wasn’t the entire body-suit. Probably would have ripped it as soon as he sat down, anyways. There were the gauntlets too, and the belt. He put the gloves on experimentally, flexing his fingers in the pleather and decided he liked the way they looked. The spikes along the forearms seemed exciting too.
“Betting pool’s gonna love this,” he snorted and shook his head.
“Hey guys, Chris finally showed up!” called Ferdinand from where he stood in the kitchenette, pouring rum and cokes. Chris entered first, with Hawker behind. As soon as the tall mech reared the corner behind him, Ferd did a double-take and spilled some of the coke. “…and he brought a guest!”
Wen, Becker, Tsung, and a couple other folks emerged from the woodwork. Becker was some Lucha Libre in a bright green speedo and red cape, Tsung was Lewis Carol’s Alice, and Tsung was probably some video game character. Nobody said anything for a few seconds, then Ferd pressed a rum a coke into Chris’ hand, slapped Hawker’s shoulder, and the party resumed again.
Chris made a respectable nightwing, even more so with the fake muscle bulges the suit gave him. And that butt! It gleamed under the lighting and the curves of the muscle showed even with the black finish. The lights just curved and gleamed over each rubber-clad muscle, from the definition of his back to each of of those abdominals.
And it all belong to the gruff robotic batman.
Nightwing happily took the drink, a smile on his face. “Gotham is safe tonight!” He looked around. “Aww, What about jane and Edwards?” He sipped, heavy on the rum that drink.
Ferdinand is dressed as a perfect Bob Ross, even had paintbrushes in his shirt pocket. “On patrol. They get back in a few hours. Be careful with that drink.” he teased “They might actually let you two outside.”
Tsung chuckled, her glowing hair bouncing. “Pffft. Colburn has cold feet. She not happy until Chris and Hawker married.”
Wen blushed hard in her alice outfit, obviously thinking about that.
Becker rolled his eyes, looking fantastic in the minimal clothing he wore. “Alright. What are we going to give batman here?” He gestured a finely toned arm at the costumed robot.
Chris realised that he had a long way to go if he wanted a chance at taking the cocky SOB down in a fight.
“I dunno. Traditionally bat just broods while everyone else has fun.” Nightwing teased, gently nudging his partner in the ribs. “But there’s a halloween hockey game on and I wanna get smashed, eat terrible for me food and play dumb games during the commercials!”
Ferdinand cheered along with the rest of the crowd. Soon they all were on the couches as the men skated on the ice on TV.
“Alright, how about never have I ever?” THe hispanic pilot seemed to have natural command of a party. “Rules are simple. THe speaker admits to something they’ve never done. Anyone who has, has to take a drink!” He gave batman a playful scowl. “No fair things like breathing, for those of you so constructed.”
“Never had I ever.. been a Yankees fan.” Everyone in the know looked at Nightwing. Who firmly did not drink. A few others in the room did, including Becker. “HAW! See, I told you that jurno just lied for clickbait.”
He tapped Tsung on the spikey shoulder of her fantastic costume. “I have never eaten ramen.” Gasps around the room, and almost everyone had to take a hit.
No one expected Batman to take a drink.
Between the excellent game and the commercial breaks, it took a long time to get to Celn. He’d been thinking for a while, trying to find something from his past that wouldn’t be a buzzkill. He’s also had to take a drink on every pull, including Wen’s never have I ever piloted the HLX-9. Pffft. Unfair.
“C’mon Celn, there must be something you haven’t done!” laughed Ferdinand, topping off Chris’s drink.
“Umm.. uh.. urp. OH! Never have I ever left Illinois.”
“Yep. Haven’t ever set foot out of the state.”
Right now, he was hoping things would break up and he could get Hawker in his bedroom!
Hawker was listening to the game, laughing, but his eyes were equally occupied by the game, his glistening little Nightwing, and, surprisingly enough, Becker’s fuzzy, sculpted chest. Hm. The mech wanted to know what it would take to get him to cry uncle, tears and all. Strain those muscles beyond comfort.
“I dunno. Traditionally bat just broods while everyone else has fun.”
“I had fun once,” Hawker chuckled. “Wan’t worth it.”
The game was GREAT. Hawker hadn’t gotten into a game this much in… months. He could almost hear Lee shouting at the TV, clapping, cursing. When the Kings’ left wing checked the Blackhawks’ leaner defenseman against the boards and a fight broke out, Hawker remembered just why he’d liked hockey so much. Great fight, great game – it even went into a killer overtime.
Later, the mech actually had the opportunity to contribute to the drinking game, even though he didn’t have a drink. Everyone looked to him. “Never have I ever… learned to swim.”
Wen and Becker drank their shots sheepishly as the rest of everyone roared with laughter.
“No fuckin’ way!” said one of the other analoggers.
Becker snapped, slurring and laughing. “Hey! Yer lookin’ at a born-n-bred city-slicker, delta boy! And you couldn’t get me to touch the water around here if you gave me my own HLX -”
Hawker cocked his head, laughing too. “Your own HLX-9, huh? Aw, c’mon, shitbird, I thought you wanted me more than that.”
El Beckador jumped up, sloppily finishing his drink and pointed with that thick arm. “Hey! Y’wanna say that to my face, butter bar? Got too big for yer big boy britches. D’like to see y’push us pilots around now!”
The mech stood up from the couch, clearly still taller and heavier than the beefy A-class pilot. “You sure about that?”
Chris felt warm and fuzzy inside. Wen is sitting on his right, and he had his arm around her. Over the course of the night she’d been looking at the Bat and acting even shier then normal.
His pickled mind went to an earlier conversation, during a shift change.
“Wen, so, couldn’t help noting how you’ve been checking out the caped crusader.”
“What? No, just never seen a robot in costume before and–”
“Weeeeeeen..” Chris accused with a drunken grin. She knew he is on his 6th and was still standing. And that isn’t counting all the shots he had to down. Apparently if it was illicit, Chris had done it. “Look, I’m sure we can work somethin’ about when he’s back on duty.”
“But I’m analogue–”
Chris wiggled his fingers. “Can work someshin out. I gotz ideas too yaknow. I’m not th’ idiot people think ah am.”
Wen laughed, pushing him back to the couches. “You’re drunk.”
And how everything felt good. He is happy, Hawker is playing along, and.. oh for fuck’s sake Becker! Pounding back his 10th drink of the night, he swung his feet down to the ground. Woah.. he felt dizzy!
“Oh god Chris, don’t get involved..” muttered Wen, who’d been perfectly happy to have a cute stud without an ego to ogle. Or maybe it was her series of hard ciders.
“Not.. invulder per schaaay..” He meandered toward his room as the two stood and faced off like a marvel VS capcom game.
El Beckador flexed his impressive guns, then flipped the cape over his shoulder. Annoying, he looked good doing it. “Gonna take you down Batsy! Snap those ears off and make ya wear ’em as a moustache!” Stepping up to the perfectly sober machine, he roared like the luchador he is dressed as; getting the crowd to laugh and cheer. “Ya been runnin from me too long, ‘big dog’! I’m gonna wrassle ya down, make ya mine! Time to put ya in your place!”
The cocky idiot might just be hammered enough to try and go toe to toe with an android.
A heavily inebriated Nightwing stumbled past a scowling Bob Ross, a familiar collar in hand. Behind El Beckador by a bit, he wiggled it at Bat-Hawker with a drunken smirk, while pointing at the impressive looking Becker. Damn the guy had those broad shoulders and narrow hips.
Chris and Hawker weren’t supposed to be linking up outside of monitored training. But, both of them knew there wasn’t a restriction for them getting with anyone else. “‘Hos ’bout yas git thish over wif; wifoot gittin’ tha’ purdy body coovered in blood?” Offered the sauced pilot.
Hawker hadn’t noticed the covert conversation with Wen, which was probably for the best right now, though he did take a passing notice of Chris’s arm around the small, lean analogger.
El Beckador made with the gun show, as if that meant anything to the 400-lb machine! Aside from being an enticing sight, that is. Being a ham and a dork and a drunk just about ruined it, though.
“Ya been runnin from me too long, ‘big dog’! I’m gonna wrassle ya down, make ya mine! Time to put ya in your place!”
“My place, lieutenant?” Hawker barked his own laugh, dropping his arms to rest on his hips. He laughed some more when Becker threw up his fists a la Mohammed Ali. He was too drunk to even settle on a fighting style! “I know where your place is, at least. Square under my big, filthy…”
But his attention was suddenly drawn to Chris, who was heading for one of the rooms, listing like a ship in rough seas. How many drinks did he have, again? Didn’t matter. There was a certain special collar in his hand.
“‘Hos ’bout yas git thish over wif; wifoot gittin’ tha’ purdy body coovered in blood?”
The collar was meant for Becker, but he was reminded of something else… and the drunken luchador was promptly put on a later to-do list. He’d have all the time in the world to fuck with the cocky sunnabitch.
“If you’ll excuse me, shitbird, I’ve got somebody to cover in a different sort of bodily fluid,” he chuckled, brushing past Becker, their shoulders colliding. Hawker knew that nobody would remember the comment come morning, even given the looks he was getting. Then somebody burst out laughing – one of those wet, drunken, belly laughs – and everyone else fell in line.
Somewhere, Hawker was smiling and licking his lips as he pushed Chris into his suite and closed the door behind them.
“Hope you don’t mind if this is all about you tonight, kiddo. I’ll make sure you give me mine later. With compound interest.”
“Why, batman, what are you doing in mah room?”
Chris, in that nightwing costume, could barely stand. God this that outfit look good on him, making him look like an extension of the great machine. He looked confused for a moment, as if he didn’t quite understand what batman had said. Then comprehension dawned on his face! “Oh geeze Batman! An’ here I thought you’d wanna plug into Becker. Guess he’s stuck plan’ second fiddle again.”
He offered the collar to the robot, resting in in the fingers of his partner. “I want yous ter put this on meh. Ah am yers. We bofh knows it. When we is togetfer, I forget how ta be sad.”
He put both hands on the mech’s shoulders and hung on. “Rooms’s spinnin’ again.” Deep breaths, resting his head on that metallic chest as he swallowed. “I wish ya had a dick. I want it in me right nows so bad.. fuck boss. I needs yas. Just like, all the fuckin time..”
“Oh geeze Batman! An’ here I thought you’d wanna plug into Becker. Guess he’s stuck plan’ second fiddle again.”
“Can’t always be first chair,” he rumbled, silicone-coated fingers sliding along the edge of the sleek metal band. “But that’s fine – you play an excellent counterpoint to my melodic line.”
“I want yous ter put this on meh. Ah am yers. We bofh knows it. When we is togetfer, I forget how ta be sad.”
Chris held on for dear life, the adorable lush. “You forget how ta be sad?” he echoed, bemused. He drew near and pressed where his mouth would be to the kid’s neck. “C’mon, now. Don’t get sappy on me, scabber.”
“I wish ya had a dick. I want it in me right nows so bad.. fuck boss. I needs yas. Just like, all the fuckin time..”
He snapped the collar on, lining up the interface with Chris’ implant and feeling the faint click of their contact points meeting. He was suddenly flooded with the sensation of color. Warm, fuzzy color.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” His fingers grabbed the edge of the collar and gave a rough jerk toward him, forcing Chris into a stumble against his solid chest. “I don’t need a dick to made you beg for it.”
The collar transmits many things, including the health of the pilot and a number of functions about his body. PErhaps the one now that is amusing is the Blood Alcohol Level, sitting at .32! Technically, Chris should be given an IV, we ovserved so he doesn’t choke and placed on medical watch.
Two of three isn’t bad. How he’s still operating is impressive, someone has a -tolerance.-
The rubber clad boy fell onto the broad chest of his captain, his gloved hands stroking along the strong back of that android. “N-no ya shure don’t boss. I missed this scho much!”
Happy warm colors. Deep sensations of lust. And perhaps the best is the continuous flow of Trust for his metallic partner. The pilot did not fear, he did not worry about that he might be hurt.
The only person who seemed to remember that the AI’s word meant something.
“Jus’ imagine it boss. YOu in mah room every day.” <Fucking me.> Came the drunken, exceptionally liner thoughts of the hammered pilot.
“YOu could keep th’ charger up here.” <So you can keep fucking me!>
“Yah need a mouth tho.” <So you can suck and bite me.>
“And a.. ah big one. With fat nuts too.” <Wanna get blasted, yeah!>
He planted a sloppy kiss under tha batman cowl, where a moth would be. THe human hung onto the robot, behind jerked along happily by the collar.
Strange, deranged, thrilling, and wonderful things.
Pleasure flooded into his silicon veins, and he mmmm‘d deep in that clever little subwoofer of his.
“And a.. ah big one. With fat nuts too.” <Wanna get blasted, yeah!>
The collar still hadn’t been modified to produce proper two-way communication, so Hawker had to speak. Not that he minded. His fingers wove through the kid’s longer hair, and he found satisfactory how easy it was all to grab. “Fat enough to choke on,” he continued quietly, grinding his hips into Chris’s. The rubber squeaked faintly against the smooth metal of his codpiece. That bulge in the groin, hard as it was, still gave the right of right-of-way to Hawker’s unforgiving metal. “As I straddle your face and slap my thick cock on your forehead?”
His grip on the collar was complete. Chris wasn’t going to move an inch unless the mech wanted him to, and right now, he slowly, firmly, guided him down to his knees, pressing his cheek against that aluminum swell. “Put your mouth on it, little boy,” he commanded with a growl. “Lick it like you’ve got a horse in this race.”
Even hampered like this, his boss’s non-existent dick is still superior.
“As I straddle your face and slap my thick cock on your forehead?”
“I’ll motorboat them boss. Lick and kiss and worship! I know all that awesome cum is from them. Wanna watch ’em slide through your legs as you walk.”
Down and down he went, kissing a line of kisses down the chest of Hawker’s robotic shell. Then he is facing it, the powerful codpiece that held no secrets. The grip on the collar and in his hair left no room to maneuver. He would obey the powerful voice that owned him.
A hand went down to touch his own dick.
Lips parted. No shame as he looked up, making sure his boss knew what his toy is downing. Guided, his tongue traced from the taint to the very top of that codpiece.
He stroked his own shaft in the same motion. The sensation, the rising lust flowed flowed across the connection. No inhibitions from the drunken pilot.
Lick, stroke. Suck, press. Lick, Stroke. He will please, he will serve, he gives his pleasure literally to his master.
<Wanna feel your huge floppy hosscock on my face, feel it get HARD before you take me!>
Since physically she’s not very strong nor does she have an intimidating appearance she probably would get by stealing supplies from others as she would be able to slip in and out without being noticed–even though she’s small she’d be very quick on her feet.
Autumn would be pretty defiant and strong-willed as she’s used to being on her own and surviving without any help as well; confident in her abilities to survive so to suddenly be caught by someone who could easily overpower her by sheer strength would make her irritable and even if it would be mutually beneficial for the two of them to work together she’d still be reluctant and prone to arguing with him.
“Wanna watch ’em slide through your legs as you walk.”
“Mmyou’re selling me on the idea now, kiddo,” he said with a deep chuckle. “I can see how badly you need it.” Hawker tightened his grip on his pilot, and he pressed Chris to his cod. Almost hard enough to bruise his pretty, masked face. Almost. “Yeah, let’s see that mouth of yours stretched wide open around me. I wanna feel you gag.” He pulled away. The edge of the codpiece left a red mark, but it would fade in a few minutes. It would have to do!
Chris’s hand wandered down to his prick, and he jerked in time with his desperate servicing of his captain’s crotch. The jolts of pleasure flooded their link and Hawker grunted at the phantom sensation.
<Wanna feel your huge floppy hosscock on my face, feel it get HARD before you take me!>
He smirked in his CPUs. Yeah, they could have fun with this.
“You’ll come when I’m ready to come, got it, meatboy?” A thrust into Chris’s face, and he looked down into those amber eyes with his hard golden ones, hoping that his staid pleasure at the kid’s efforts would convey.
<Need a bigger body for you, even at this size. I want you looming!>
The FORCE returns! Not as rough as before, his pretty face isn’t bruised, nor are there heavy marks of abuse on his body. But there is the welcome feeling of flesh submitting to metal, impossible hardness against his skin. He gasps and shudders in joy.
“You’ll come when I’m ready to come, got it, meatboy?”
“Yes Sir!” came his enthusiastic response, and he got to licking. Kissing, sucking over the place where his boss would have a dick and nuts. Guided by those powerful mechanical hands, looking up so the yellow-eyed android knew he is happy to submit and could see every moment of accepting his place on his knees.
He already felt the pent up need pulsing along his shaft, stroking in smooth pulls from base to tip, then rapid jerks from tip to base. Under the rubber of his costume, simulating the oral he’s giving. THe whole time he’s focused on his own pleasure, desperate to push it all across the connection for his dominant.
“You look good on your knees, officer,” he rumbled, pleasure building somewhere. A laugh. “Look at you. A sharp, young man of the law, grovelling at my feet. Willingly submitting to such treatment.” Fingers cupped Chris’ jaw. “Whoever ruined you, I’d love to thank them.” Potentially dangerous words for somebody with such a nebulous past, but that was the whole point of this, right? To push that envelope and back away just as the hurt became real.
And if it didn’t, you pushed until it did.
Chris’ hand and mouth and cock felt amazing, even across the link. Their bond was strong, otherwise this would be impossible. How perfect.
He didn’t want to raise too many suspicions, though. They needed to keep this fast and rough.
“You’d do anything I told you to, wouldn’t you? You’d obey my every word. Mm, do me proud, kiddo. Come for me. Now, scab!” One last time he pressed Chris’ smooth, red face to his crotch, which glistened with his spit. Teeth edges grazed uncomfortably along that smooth aluminum and he was ready to feel his pilot’s desperate gasps and shudders and feel them almost as his own.
His cock. Their shared cock. He stroked and squeezed it through the rubber of his suit, the gloves making it so he couldn’t even really feel it was his own hand doing the work.
“You’d do anything I told you to, wouldn’t you?”
Hawker’s cock, now.
“Come for me. Now, scab!“
Spit bubbled around his lips, red marks on his cheeks as the robotic hips ground against his face. The hand behind his head, fingers interlocked in his hair, ensuring he stayed on his knees in service.
Five strong spurts flowed from that rubber-clad shaft. It bounced and drooled cocksnot, pouting the stuff into the heavy rubber codpiece. The sensation flowed up Chris’s spine, and every possible byte of sensation is duplicated across the interface link. Giving his pleasure up, actively working to ensure as much went up to the machine in control. Every throb, every glorious moment of that endorphin rush, down to the tingle as his balls emptied themselves.
Just so Hawker could get off.
Then he just felt warm and secure. Safely controlled. On his knees before a robot in a batman costume, while wearing a nightwing costume.
Kissing at the bulge, he whispered “THank you sir. Thank you for showing me where I belong.” Then he closed his eyes, resting there as his hands dropped down and held just behind his Boss’s knees.
Hawker felt the human’s body tighten, coil, and burst into flames as orgasm plowed through him like virgin snow. The AI felt it almost as intensely: the sensitive flesh, the sinews, the pulsing blood. That hot little shaft shook and unloaded inside the suit; Hawker could feel that familiar rushing sensation, that hot, sticky-sweet explosion as wave after wave of clenching muscles forced out that salty, tangy spunk.
The machine’s air cycling rose to a higher pitch as the fans worked overtime to cool down from physical exertion that he hadn’t actually performed. Sensors tingled, re-calibrated from the sudden oversensitivity. The dripping of saliva from his thoroughly serviced codpiece was the icing on the goddamn cake.
He rumbled, hummed a long, lazy groan. Fingers through the kid’s hair as he came down from his high, panting and trembling against the mech’s solid legs. Rough touch softened to something more like slow, rhythmic massaging. Petting. His pilot was precious. One of a kind. Hawker realized, then, that if anyone so much as plucked a hair from his auburn head without asking, he’d shove their spine down their throat.
Chris was completely, utterly his. No questions asked.
“Thank you for showing me where I belong.”
“Good little humans like you deserve nothing less,” he said quietly. There was genuine warmth there. He let Chris relax for a moment and gather himself before he reached for that collar and gave a gentle upward tug. “Now c’mon kiddo, before they send a search party.”
Chris huffed heavily, kissing at those thighs as he is stroked. The high of cumming, providing for Hawker what the mech didn’t have, that is what a good pilot does. This was barely different than working inside of the Vanguard chassis. It felt very peaceful here, the way the metallic digits worked through his hair. Safe and secure.
“Good little humans like you deserve nothing less.”
Chris slumped down heavily, dropping his butt onto his heels. Even with the limitations of the link and this less-than-ideal frame; he felt the acceptance coming across. The DF2 is committed to making him it’s pilot now. It’s happy, battered, and sexually exhausted pilot.
Then he came up, where he could press his face to the smooth robotic chest, throw his arms around that solid frame and hug. Hug and hug and hug. He could squeeze as hard as he could in thanks.
He belonged somewhere, to someone.
“Now c’mon kiddo, before they send a search party.”
Reluctantly, he let go. Using the box of tissues, he opened the fly of the suit and wiped off his mess as best as he could. Ziiip. Tossing the mess aside, he felt a weird drunken high passing through him. “Yesh. Thatsh ah good idear.” The slurring was cute, but he needed to start hydrating now. That BAC is simply too high, he might ruin what’s left of that precious brain.
Not five minutes later Nightwing and Batman emerged. Nightwing still wore the collar of course, not that anyone paid it much mind. Many good snacks and bottles of water later, Chris found himself with his costume mask off as the party wound down around 1 am. Tsung and Jane were going at Halo HARD. Becker had disappeared with two of the analogue girls, and Wen had called it a night a while back. The happy mood of the party had fallen into a lazy glut that would have the pilots doing some serious housekeeping the next few days.
“I need to crash..” muttered Celn. He turned and looked at bat-hawker, a silly smile on his face. <Wish you could stay. Wish I was IN you.>
The hug caught him off-guard. It really did, and that pissed him off. But the frustration quickly gave way to something resembling care, or maybe adoration, or perhaps endearment – because something about the damn kid made him feel… what? Normal?
He could feel the squeeze, the happy strain of those muscles around him, but the metal body didn’t yield one bit. And it was fine. It was better than fine; it was great. He… hugged back. Possessive. Encircling. Hawker imagined for a moment that his arms were the hatches of his cockpit and that Chris was inside of him again. Which is truly where a mech’s pilot belonged.
Hawker had shoved a number of water bottles at Chris over the next hour. The kid wasn’t going to be any use to him hungover, though he’d be more than happy to punish that lack of forethought if he needed to. Like, say, handing him by the ankles until he puked and begged for a soft bed in a dark room.
The cowl had come off pretty quickly, but Nightwing was still in full costume by the time the clock chimed 1.
“I need to crash…” <Wish you could stay. Wish I was IN you.>
“Yes you do,” Hawker answered strategically, before sliding his big metal hands under Chris’ perfect ass to hoist him up into a bridal carry. Someone cat-called and clapped at the sight, and the mech just rolled his optics. “Now c’mon…” Off to the bedroom he went, though not for anything especially sexy this time.