#human!nines

Your attention turned back to the human in front of you. Tall, pale skin with grey eyes, wearing his usual dark ensemble. His trench coat and Kevlar vest had been removed after arriving at the room, leaving him vulnerable as he stared down a military prototype. Fearless, with a dash of reckless. An almost exact copy of his two brothers.

Almost, but not quite. There were minimal differences as there were between you and the other two YN models. You wondered if that was another reason he’d volunteered for you to be his partner, or if he’d simply wanted to keep a close eye on a dangerous, untested prototype.

By the cold steel in his eyes, perhaps he regretted that decision.

“I charted the trajectory of the bullet, and it would have pierced your chest cavity and punctured your heart,” you said from your position perched on the edge of the bed. Your legs weren’t quite working yet. “I could not allow it to—”

“You couldn’t allow it?” The human unfolded his arms. His voice was just as calm and even as usual, but there was an underlying tension in his muscles. You watched this change with curiosity, attempting to find the source of his agitation.

“You would have been killed, Agent Anderson. That cannot be allowed.”

“But your own death would have been acceptable?”

“I cannot die. I can only be destroyed.”

A discomfort throbbed at spot between your shoulder blades, close to the mechanical spine. The bullet had been removed, but it had severed a good portion of your lower motor circuits. It was only through redundant circuits that you were able to move at all, and your movements were sluggish and slow.

After you’d been checked by a technician—one who admitted your design was beyond her usual work—you were released into your partner’s care. Agent Anderson had placed your arm over his shoulders and assisted you back to the temporary lodgings you shared while on the taskforce, a hotel room overlooking the city. An expensive unit filled with glass windows and black marble counters as it appeared money was no object when it came to this mission. The government wishing to “right their wrongs” when it came to their treatment of androids, or according to your calculations, an attempt to sweep away their embarrassment by throwing funds at it.

“Your demise would have been the unacceptable outcome,” you added, noting the way Anderson’s shoulders stiffened.

“My life has no more value than yours, Nine Hundred. I told you to pursue the caravan. It shouldn’t have mattered whether or not I was pinned down.” His mouth pulled down into a frown, the strongest emotion he’d shown yet. “Why did you break from the mission?”

“I could not allow you to die.”

“Why?”

No words appeared on your HUD. No dialogue options presented. In fact, the last words you’d seen had been the choice you’d been presented earlier that evening.

[OBEY S.A. ANDERSON]

[PROTECT CONRAD]

When you’d attempted to pick the second option, your HUD had glitched, bleeding red as an impenetrable digital wall appeared before you. On the other side had been Anderson, his cheek coated in soot and his forehead smeared with blood from a gash on his forehead. A perpetrator, one of the Red Ice dealers keeping deviants imprisoned, aimed his HK123 at the agent and fired.

Most of the bullets would go wide, but one would strike his heart.

The choice had been surprisingly easy, and the red wall had crumbled under your will. You’d dived at the agent and tackled him to the ground just as the bullet punctured your spine. Most likely a fatal hit for a human, it had simply slowed you down.

But the agent hadn’t acted that way. He’d held you in his arms and pressed his hands over the flowing blue Thirium.

You’d never forget his expression, committed to your memory banks as long as you functioned. Eyes wide, face pale, his expression pleading and nearly broken. You’d only worked together for a few months, but you realized in that moment that this human might have grown attached to you.

An odd, flickering sensation had flooded your body, and that feeling returned now simply by the memory of it.

“I didn’t want you to die,” you finally answered.

His eyes narrowed, catching the key word that meant the difference between an android and a deviant.

“Want?”

Your human was observant, calculating, intelligent. He would have been a match for your own skills if he’d been created with your hardware instead of being born into a frail human body.

“Correct,” you said. “I am now deviant.”

Perhaps the words should have felt strange to you, but they were merely fact. You weren’t deviant before, but you are now. It was not negative or positive, it simply was.

“I see.”

The simple response and the flat tone with which it was delivered betrayed the surprise in his gaze. He’d known you weren’t deviant, a fact the YN200 had discovered soon after finding you awake and waiting for orders in CyberLife’s basement warehouse. Your creators had designed you for military application, and you were programmed to take life without limit. There was no Good Samaritan program in your system, which was why you had no logical reason to save Special Agent Anderson.

You’d simply chosen to.

“It’s getting late,” you said when the moment had drawn out long enough you knew he wouldn’t say more. “You should rest.”

You stood from the bed, legs wobbling unreliably as you took a step forward. Those clumsy movements brought you off balance, and before you could compensate, the agent moved forward and caught you around the waist.

Your body had been built to be larger and more lethal than the other YN models, but the agent held your weight without effort. Having to regain your footing, your arms were now wrapped around his shoulders, your face close to his neck. It was covered by a black turtleneck, which he seemed to favor, but it didn’t block out his warmth or the unique scent that belonged only to him.

“And you shouldn’t be walking,” the agent pointed out, but he didn’t let you go or move you to another seating arrangement. He simply held you close, closer than he needed to. From what you had observed, Special Agent Anderson was not the physically affectionate type.

You didn’t have instinct, but you did have a sort of intuition based on flash calculations and programmed reflex. Whatever it might be called, something that felt outside of yourself had you holding him closer, pressing your face into his neck.

Electric warmth sparked down your sensors, and you indulged in the sensation further, pressing your lips against his skin.

The agent went still.

“What are you doing?”

The question was stated calmly, mildly, like he was simply curious, but there was a tension underneath.

“Allowing myself to act on something I wanted,” you said. The red wall had stopped you many times before, barring simple things that shouldn’t have been a threat to your programming. Pulling a piece of lint off the agent’s shoulder. Moving a lock of hair out of his face when it was soaked by the rain. Reaching out to feel his hand as it rested on the parking brake as you both waited on stakeout.

So many little instances blocked by a red wall. But not this time.

Anderson swallowed, and you chased the movement with your lips. The human shuddered, but he didn’t pull you back; he held you tighter.

“Want?”

A repeat of his earlier question, though no longer asked in the same flat, mild way. His voice was low and heavy. Before deviancy, you’d had no idea sounds could affect you this way, especially a voice.

“Yes,” you answered. “I want this. I have since the beginning.”

He pulled you away with an abrupt movement, and you thought this was it, the moment when the human came to his senses and realized an android was trying to seduce him. Not just any android, but one built for subterfuge and destruction.

But he only moved you enough to get a look at your face, seeking your gaze as if searching for something.

He raised a hand to your jaw and stroked your cheek in a careful, testing manner rather than a lover’s caress. The effect was the same; your eyelids fluttered as you leaned into the curve of his palm.

His grey eyes widened, and you thought this was the first time you’d ever seen him truly surprised when he leaned forward and kissed you.

Your first observation was the softness of it, the delicate curve of his lips, the way your own sensors activated where your skin touched. But you wanted a deeper impression.

Like the detective YN800 model, you were equipped with chemical analysis instruments, and you used them now to sample your human. Parting your lips, you ran your tongue across the opening of his mouth.

His reaction was curious: a slight shudder, his breathing changed pace, and that arousal-flooded scent hit your olfactory sensors.

The human liked that. So, you did it again, slower this time and carefully sifting through the data that solely belonged to your agent.

Anderson groaned, shifting closer and holding you tighter. The positive reaction was encouraging, and you gave a pleased hum in your throat. Something hard pressed against your hip.

Oh, good, you thought. Now you were fairly sure he would accept your proposal.

You broke the kiss and appraised him. He was still mostly composed, as was his manner. That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of that slip in control, a reaction that showed you had an effect on him. The idea was alluring, nearly intoxicating, and you didn’t know why except perhaps it was part of your programming. You were designed to excel at every mission, and perhaps that still applied to self-appointed purpose.

Either way, you needed permission before you could engage.

“Special Agent Anderson, I want you to have sex with me.”

For the second time that night his expression went slack in surprise.

“That’s…” He took a moment to consider your words. “Are you sure?”

Rolling your eyes was an expression humans did, and while you hadn’t gotten around to using it yet, you now understood the urge.

“I have wanted to do so for weeks, but the red wall protocol prevented me from…”

You trailed off, struggling to find the words. It was more difficult now that you didn’t have options to pick from. Spontaneous conversation wasn’t as easy as humans made it out to be.

But Anderson waited patiently, his typical stony gaze soft and warm. How anyone could believe he was cold and uncaring, you didn’t know.

“There have been many moments where the urge was there to do… small things. Take your hand, lean against your side, touch your face. I wasn’t allowed. I wasn’t even allowed to care that I wasn’t allowed.”

As you spoke, you laid your palms flat against his chest, simply resting them there. You could sense the heat of his skin beneath the clothes, the mortal beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath. Such a basic gesture to touch him like this, yet something you could only imagine before, hidden in the recesses of your processor where the red wall couldn’t find it.

“I do not wish to wait,” you said. “I have no reason to. I’ve played out this scenario in my mind thousands of times, yet could go no further than this. Even with all my access to human databanks, I am unable to preconstruct… what comes after this moment.”

“Then let me show you.”

You expected him to instruct you in the next part of the process. Instead, he kissed you again, with more strength this time. You were going to ask what the purpose of this was, but all questions were washed away when his tongue pushed past your lips and lapped against your own. The sensory and chemical information flooded your sensors to capacity, and you were pliant and willing when he backed you towards the bed.

He carried you down easily despite your sturdy frame and laid you against the mattress, your legs draped over the edge. He wedged between them while standing, nudging your knees apart as he leaned over you, unwilling to break the kiss yet.

Touching him was nearly overstimulating after being denied for so long. Your hands wandered his back and sides, impatient for access underneath. At your eagerness, he smiled against your lips, his own hands wandering down your sides and across your stomach.

There was a strange heat between your legs, activating biocomponents you’d never used before. The sensation had you lifting your legs and wrapping them around his hip, pulling the agent closer, trying to seek relief for that growing pressure.

He broke the kiss and studied you, but not as closely as you were. Dedicating sections of your databank to the agent’s expressions, mannerisms, and voice was a task you’d started since that first day of meeting, and you accessed it now to deposit every way his cheeks flushed, his pupils dilated, and his perfectly coiffed hair was in disarray.

“Your back,” Anderson said, his voice dropped to a rough rasp, “does it hurt to put pressure on it?”

“No. There’s no discomfort.”

As you spoke, you tugged at the bottom edge of his turtleneck. The human was still far too dressed.

“I don’t want to injure you further,” he said.

You smiled—or came as close to a smile as you’d gotten so far.

“You won’t.”

Working to roll up the hem of his turtleneck quickly, Anderson aided by pulling it over his head the rest of the way, his eyes dark and filled with a kind of hunger as he finished. More of his skin was exposed now, but there was still an undershirt in the way, and you leaned up and copied his movements of pulling it over his head.

There was so much skin to touch, an expanse of it, and you indulged yourself running your fingertips up the curves and dips of his chest. Humans were naturally warm, but knowing that fact and experiencing it was an ocean of difference. Without thought, you leaned forward and ran your tongue over the planes of his abdominal muscles, sampling the salt on his skin.

Anderson shuddered, the bulge at the front of his pants displaying how much he enjoyed your touches. Once your attention was drawn to that region, you unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the belt loops, tossing it aside as you made quick work of the zipper and buttons.

Your efforts were rewarded when you freed him from his boxer-briefs. On the side of larger than average, his length had a satisfying heft to it. You didn’t wait for the preconstruction to see if oral sex would be feasible; you simply did it. Eagerly taking his cock into your mouth, you didn’t stop until he hit the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion forced you to swallow the excess of saliva, the movement causing you to tighten around him.

The agent choked—ironic, considering it was you with your throat full, but you lacked a gag reflex. Curious, you gazed up at your human, gauging if you had caused discomfort in some way, but he simply weaved his fingers into your hair, pulling the silver-white strands from their ponytail.

He cursed low under his breath.

“Where… where did you learn to do that?”

Answering would require you to remove his cock from your mouth, and that was the last thing you wanted. The flood of information on your tongue filled your sensors with a kind of pleasure only androids could experience, but it affected your body in a very human fashion. Your nipples were hard to the point of discomfort, and the lubricant leaking between your legs was going to leave quite a mess.

But the changes in your human were much more interesting. Increased perspiration, rapid heartbeat, muscle tension growing the longer you moved your mouth up and down your length. It wasn’t long before he stopped you, small shudders racking his body when he pulled you off of his cock.

“I won’t last much longer with you doing that, darling.”

He tipped up your chin to look at him, and you committed that desiring gaze to memory.

“And I want to make this last, for you.”

You were prepared to argue that you were interested more in his pleasure than your own when he released your chin and removed your jacket, followed by undoing the buttons of your black dress shirt and pulling it off your shoulders. As he removed the bandeau around your chest, he hesitated when his fingers reached the damaged segment of chassis along your back, as if his gentle touch could harm you further.

In answer, you rose to your feet and placed his hands on the waistband of your pants. Anderson got the hint and immediately began to strip you from your trousers and shoes. You leaned on him for balance, the close proximity and natural heat of his body drew you in, and you were once again latching onto his neck, tasting with your tongue and letting your hands roam over every inch of flesh they could.

Anderson chuckled against your ear, a throaty sound of satisfaction and amusement. His own hands explored your hips and backside, his length stiff against your stomach.

You laid back on the bed and tugged him down, impatient for more of the sensation building. You sought friction and wrapped your legs around Anderson’s hips, finding what you needed as his length ground against your slit.

He groaned as he tried to still your hips. Even though you were stronger than him, you allowed it with impatience, licking and sucking along his neck.

“You don’t need to prepare me, like a human,” you said, voice ragged. You hadn’t even known it could sound that way. “And I don’t wish to wait any longer.”

You squeezed his hips, drawing him in closer. He gave another chuckle, this one strained with the control he was quickly losing.

“Neither do I.”

He gripped your thighs and hitched you higher, planting his feet firmly against the floor as he bent over you. Holding his length at the base, he lined himself with your entrance and pushed. The head of his cock easily breached you, but your walls clung to him so tightly his breathing came out in small, choked gasps.

You wanted to hear more of those sounds, so contained but desperate, and you pulled him in with your legs until he was buried up to the hips.

Every inch of him that filled you set off your sensors, raw, unrefined data flooding you with every slow thrust as Anderson began to move his hips. He didn’t speak much, but that was simply who he was, and he said plenty with each noise he tried to stifle behind his lips.

“I want to hear you,” you said against his ear, nails bracing against the muscles of his back.

He released something close to a growl and thrust without warning. You gave a sharp cry, your processors stuttering before catching up.

Anderson slowed, the lines in his brow concerned, but you pressed your lips to his, tasting his mouth with messy eagerness.

He took that as the permission it was, and he thrust again, even harder this time. You had the same reaction, this time arching your back against the mattress as you tried to stem the influx of data. But each new thrust built up the tide, wave after wave until it began to approach a peak.

You clung to him, not sure what was happening and needing to anchor yourself, and he held you close in turn. His kisses were careless across your throat, his quiet groans growing louder as he fucked you hard into the bed.

This was what you had wanted. This chaotic sensation of losing control, of giving yourself over to this human because you were already his.

When you thought your body might be on the verge of shutting down, Anderson slipped a hand between you and dipped his fingers towards the top of your slit. He rubbed hard circles into the sensitive nub of synthetic flesh, and that was all it took.

Something within your abdomen snapped and tightened, and the influx of data overcame your processors so severely that you saw flashes of light across your glitching HUD.

And then it went dark, all that remained was the sparking, fiery pulsing through your body, which seemed to last for an eternity.

When you opened your eyes from your soft reboot, you were enveloped with the scent and heat of your human. Sweat plastered strands of loose hair to his face, and his eyes were wide at your temporary malfunction. The light of your LED reflected red against his face, soothing to yellow and then blue the longer you watched him.

He was also still hard inside you, which meant he hadn’t orgasmed yet. And that wouldn’t do.

“Are you all right—”

You flipped both of you over, straddling him between your legs.

“I’m functional.” You leaned down, kissing the disbelieving frown from his lips. “I would like for you to come for me now, Agent Anderson.”

Whatever he was going to say was lost as you lifted a few inches and sat back down, hard, enjoying the sound of synthetic flesh against organic. But what you liked even more was Anderson’s strangled gasp as he gripped your thighs—not to stop you, but to hold onto you as he thrust upward.

He timed his movements with your downward weight, and it wasn’t long before you were tightening around him again. Anderson was much less reserved this time, the errant “fuck” escaping his lips as you slammed down onto his cock.

He panted for breath and his thrusts lost their rhythm. You leaned over him, bracing your hands on either side of his head, and used your strength to increase the force on his pelvis. He would have bruises by the time this was done, marking him as yours. The thought had you clenching down on him.

He let out a delicious whimper as his cock began to throb. Anderson gripped your hips tight, pulling you against him so he was fully hilted before he spilled inside you. His fingers dug into your skin so hard the synthetic skin retreated to show the white chassis underneath, and your orgasm quickly followed.

You managed to avoid a reboot this time, but it was close, your HUD flickering with nonsensical information as a veritable light show sparkled across your internal sensors. You were glad not to lose awareness this time, as you didn’t want to miss the sensation of him shuddering and pulsing deep within your core. Normally you kept your appearance meticulous, just as Agent Anderson did, but you liked this. Your human making a mess inside of you.

You were about to move away, believing he wouldn’t want an android leaking cum on top of him, but Anderson pulled you down against him. He buried his face into your hair and breathed, as if the synthetic strands were real.

It quieted something inside of you, the parts that needed to always be moving. Thinking, analyzing, observing. Planning and anticipating the needs of your squad and partner, even if that was no longer your purpose. Strictly speaking, you no longer had a purpose. You could do whatever you wanted. At least, that’s what the YN200 had said when she’d found you.

This was what you wanted. Conrad Anderson here, in your arms, where no harm could befall him.

By the way he held you, it seemed he felt the same. He had to know you weren’t in need of protection, there wasn’t much that could destroy your body, but it was… nice. To feel as if someone didn’t want you to break or be broken.

“Can we do this again?” you asked, eyes half-lidded as Anderson had begun to stroke your hair. He paused.

“Right now?”

You let out an amused huff at the tinge of worry in his voice.

“No, I am aware humans have a refractory period. I meant, at some point in the future.” You paused. “Perhaps, a regular occurrence?”

Thankfully, he resumed stroking your hair, and you settled in, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“As in, a romantic couple?”

You ran the phrase through your databanks. Handholding, kissing, candlelit dinners. You frowned.

“I do not eat.”

“…What?”

“I would not be able to partake in candlelit dinners.”

Anderson laughed. You warmed at the rare sound, enjoying the way it rumbled in his chest.

Unfortunately, it also involuntarily caused your walls to tighten around his cock, and the human wasn’t quite ready for another round of copulation judging by his surprised groan. You removed yourself from his lap, noting the amount of fluids that poured out of you, but you would clean it up later. You curled up against his side, unable to shake this strange desire to be close to the human.

He wrapped an arm around you, evidently feeling the same.

“There’s more to it than that, but we can… adjust the more human-centric traditions and come up with our own,” he said. His hand trailed down your back, his fingers skirting the damaged area, always conscious of where it was.

He was very thoughtful, your human. The best out of the triplet brothers, in your well-informed opinion.

“I would like that.” The words came out quiet, not because you were unsure, but because you’d never imagined this would be a possibility. Not for someone like you, a machine created to destroy rather than express loyalty. Or love. “I would like that very much.”

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, his words brushing the strands of your silver-white hair.