#selfshiptember

So, he watches. Usually he’s too busy to have only the feed from your room pulled up on his screens, but as it would happen, for once every production line is running smoothly. So it leaves him in his own quarters- not that he uses them much, so little time for rest- with the feed of you.

He’ll close it soon; whatever report you’re typing will be filtered through his firewalls, he’ll read it later. But then- you sigh and stop typing. A tap and it’s sent, a notification appearing in his own HUD. And on the screen you stretch, arching your back outwards, arms extending above your head, twisting to release the muscles there. One hand comes down to cover a silent yawn.

Out of curiosity Ramattra checks his logs; you’ve appeared in key areas and spoken with him several times in the last twenty hours. Yes, it would make sense you’d be fatigued. Living underground with no source of natural light, your circadian rhythms must be altered.

In truth it wouldn’t be so hard to find a way to adapt that aspect of his omnium for you. A timer on the overhead lights, dimming them every twelve hours or so, would be trivial. He won’t, however. He doesn’t need you here, does not need your reports to be accurate or legible. Even if you have… held his attention.

As much as he dislikes the reasons for your presence… it has been some time since he’s been forced to work so closely with someone else, much less a human. Your conversations, when not Talon-related, have been… almost enjoyable. A pleasant distraction from the all-consuming work before him.

It does not mean he trusts you, however.

Hence, he watches as you shift on the bed, sliding down a little further. He does not pay it too much attention, until you shift the datapad to your other hand- and that is odd, isn’t it? Humans avoid their non-dominant hand- while the other…

Ramattra grabs the screen and pulls it closer, pinging the feed to zoom. Your other hand slides over your chest, pausing here and there to caress yourself over your uniform. Is this…? Ramattra’s circuits race, chase any answer but the obvious. Fortunately you provide an even clearer explanation: the hand that roams your chest slips under the cloth of your pants.

Your mouth drops open, eyes fluttering shut, and very quickly Ramatta has realized he’s made a terrible mistake. His arousal subroutine auto-triggers, and Ramattra curses himself to ever leaving it engaged, curses more that it’s you that’s brought it out of its dormancy. A warmth floods his sensors, makes his out plating feel like they’re itching and Ramattra wrestles with it, even as it supplies fairly sound logic: it’ll feel nice, he was going to rest anyway, you’ll never know.

He’s about to kill switch it- when the mic on the camera automatically toggles on, a volume threshold is exceeded and a soft, airy moan rumbles from his display’s speakers.

Behind the last section of his paneling, his cock throbs. Ramattra’s fingers ache to take it in hand, but he resists. You, he fights the haze that clouds his thinking, you might still receive a call about that report. Yes, he can handle himself later, but now… he should be watching-

Your hand moves beneath the cloth, exact movements obscured. With the other hand, you hold up the data pad for a minute more, then drop it on the bed beside you. What were you looking at? The fact he could find it- you’re connected to his network- does not escape him. But it’ll be disappointing, he’s sure, less entertaining than- than you shimmying out of your clothes and delving between your legs again and-

The mic toggles on again.

”Ramattra,”

He- he misheard you. He must've. But his audials replay your voice for him, begging, pleading for something- something from him. He’s burning up, vents popping in a futile attempt to calm his racing circuits.

He nearly rips one of the joints of his panels off. The antarctic air is freezing on his cock, but his moans just at the feeling of his own palm finally surrounding himself. Now- now that he can see you, he doesn’t bother with shame. Instantly he matches your rhythm, his hand keeping pace with yours. You- this is your fault, you should know better, should know he’d be watching you and, oh, when you twist like that you look so-

“Yes, yes,” You pant, just loud enough for the camera to hear it. What was he doing to you in your mind, what did you want him to do? Don’t you know he could’ve heard you, even if he wasn’t watching?

“Ra- Rama-ah,” You cry out, tensing and twitching and-

A quarter of his systems are offline before he even registers the overload has hit, He shudders, makes some distorted noise and surrenders to the wave of pleasure that follows.