Fucking a server room must feel really good. Just you and rows and rows of needy machinery.
Hips grinding on a rack while you can hear the fans around you grow louder. Hot air puffing out of the vents, blowing gently across your skin.
Your tongue tracing the paths of countless wires, moving from computer to computer. Wrapping your fingers, your whole body amongst them all.
The lights turned low so all you can see are vague shapes and many colorful blinking lights as you get closer to release. The smell of warm dust permeates the room; you're the first to give it this much love and attention.