Frayed Wires
A wireplay fic involving my oc Ayala and @twistedviper's OC "Jho", set in the Fazbear universe (as well as an unspecified AU).
fic includes wireplay as well as human on animatronic intercourse, and is over 8k words (ergo it is a bit of a read).
This was bad.
He had just charged. As in he had just now woken up from charging. But for some reason, he could barely move.
His whole body felt heavy, and sluggish. Despite being fully charged, the stored energy was struggling to move throughout his body.
Every minor movement felt forced. Merely flexing his fingers required a lot of concentration. Not because he was in decline cognitively; every message that needed to be relayed was being relayed just as quickly as before. The problem was that his body had suddenly lost the ability to respond accordingly; and as reluctant as he was to admit it, he knew exactly what the problem was.
He was in dire need of maintenance. The wires and cables that kept his body functional had finally been worn to the brink of breaking. He was effectively pulling energy through a few hair-thin copper strands, which were at risk of snapping from the force of the strained electrical current.
His wires had reached the point where the slightest twist or bend could completely ruin them. No amount of electrical tape or jerry-rigging the individual cables could keep him functional in the long run.
Something needed to be replaced.
Given how long it had been since he had last been repaired... Chances were that quite a lot of something needed to be replaced. Which made it all the more terrifying for him to have to reach out in search of aid.
No one liked being subjected to these invasive procedures. Humans certainly didn’t. And they were often unconscious throughout their operations.
Oftentimes, the animatronics were given no such luxury. They remained somewhat active throughout most repairs, just to assure that everything was going smoothly.
The process was unpleasant and far from perfect. There had been many incidents in the past where human and animatronic alike had been left worse for wear, due to a mishap. Those unpleasant mishaps were exactly why he had gone out of his way to avoid maintenance for so long.
But now, he had no choice but to seek repairs. Failure to do so now could and likely would lead to him suffering lethal malfunctions. If he didn’t get fixed now, then he would undoubtedly wind up being decommissioned. And if that happened, then the best case scenario was that he would simply turn off and never come back on.
Worst case scenario? He would wind up trapped beneath the plex, conscious and barely functional. Doomed to waste away into nothing, surrounded by nothing but the rusting remains countless other decommissioned animatronics.
Animatronic Hell is what that fate would be. The idea of it managed to terrify him more than the idea of being sent to parts and services.
But that did not mean that he would simply bow his head and allow just anyone to work on him.
Making the arrangements proved incredibly difficult, given his limited mobility. More so, because the issues also affected his ability to speak. So little power could be pushed through his body that even his voice box struggled to emit the words that he wished to say. The fact that his desired help decided to seek him out became less the result of having been asked, and more the result of her immediate concern over his obvious malfunctions. Which only solidified the idea that he could trust her with this important task.
Waiting for her to arrive was still unpleasant and anxiety inducing. But the idea of having someone by his side who cared about his well being brought him immense comfort.
When help arrived, most of his anxiety just... Washed away.
The concern on her face. The hushed, worried tone of her voice. The gentle way that she brought her hands up to cradle his cheeks as he struggled to speak. Everything mixed together to solidify the fact that she meant him no harm, and that she would do everything in her power to help him.
Were he capable of it, he would have cried. Her touch alone brought so much comfort. Her presence lifted a weight from his shoulders that almost made him believe that it was easier for him to move.
It wasn’t. But it was nice to feel less restrained, even if it was only an illusion.
“Jho, what happened?!...” The woman asked. Her hushed, gentle voice kept him grounded as he attempted to force the words from his voice box.
For a while, his voice box could do nothing but produce static. His voice struggled to even resonate through the unappealing sound. But eventually, “Wires” could be heard through the distorted sounds.
“Wires?...” She repeated in response. He could tell by her tone that she was confused. But he couldn’t explain. Try as he might, his voice just couldn’t do for him what he needed it to do.
All that he could really do was glance to the side past her to stare at a specific shelf. There was a book there. An old, worn out book that contained all the necessary blueprints and instructions on how to repair him.
She would need to go and get the supplies from parts in services, because he did not have them. Because he could hardly move, there would be no getting him to walk there, and she certainly lacked the strength to move him.
With her focus on him, it took time for her to figure out that he was trying to guide her. He tried to say “Book”. He tried many, many times. But the whisper of his voice could not be heard through the static.
Bless her heart. She did her best to listen. She brought her head right to the source of the static, and ignored the unpleasant sound as it blared in her ear. But for all the effort she put into listening, all she really managed to do was give herself a headache.
For as frustrated as the inability to communicate made her, it was obvious that she just wanted to help. While her eyes watered and she grew restless out of worry, she never once snapped at him.
This does not mean that she never snapped. Far from it. Jho was helpless to do much more than anxiously sit and watch as the poor woman worked herself up into a bit of a frenzy out of panic. She cursed under her breath. She fidgeted in place and even stomped her foot in frustration.
He watched as her chest heaved faintly from what must have been a developing panic attack. He listened to the sound of her blowing air through her mouth in long, slow breaths as she attempted to ease away the panic. He watched her comb her fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm herself.
It made him feel guilty, knowing that he was the reason that she had fallen into this state of distress. The inability to actually comfort her and apologize made him feel worse.
Honestly, it was a stroke of blind luck that she took interest in the shelf.
As she paced, she glanced around the room. Likely in an attempt to calm herself, or find something, anything, that could be of help.
Inevitably, she spotted the shelf. He watched as she glanced at it, then locked eyes with her as she glanced back at him.
He watched the theoretical gears in her head turn as she began to speculate whether or not he was staring at the shelf.
Eventually she paused, took one last deep breath, and made her way over to the shelf.
He watched as she began to rummage through it. As he did, he found himself grateful for the fact that he had so few personal belongings. Anything that was not obviously a tool or a book was ignored. Which meant that it did not take long at all for her to happen upon the old book that he needed her to find.
She picked it up, likely drawn to the cover. It depicted him. Or rather, it depicted animatronics of his type. He watched as she opened it and skimmed multiple pages.
The instant that she realized that she was holding the key to aiding him, she closed the book and turned to face him.
“Jho, sweetie. Stay right there. Don’t move. I’ll be right back, I just need to go and get some things.” She stated.
He was so relieved that he almost rolled his eyes in response. Not because he was annoyed, but because of the redundancy of her statements.
He could not move. There wasn’t a chance of him getting to the door, yet alone making it out of the room.
Then again... It was obvious that she was just trying to communicate with him. She was just making sure that he knew what she was doing. The last thing that she wanted was to risk him misunderstanding her actions.
Imagine if she had just left without saying anything, and he had interpreted it as abandonment in his time of need? Best case scenario, he would have spent some time alone with intrusive thoughts.
Worst case scenario? He would have done exactly what she did not want him to do. He would have tried to get up. Which could have ended poorly.
He cannot even verify to her that he understands what she has asked of him. So he can only imagine how terrified she must be when she turns and leaves. Because she does not know for certain if he can even understand her.
She doesn’t know how extensive the damage is, or if he even recognizes her in his damaged state. She just has to hope that he does, and trust that he can listen when she leaves.
Once she is gone, he is naturally alone. Trapped in his room and unable to do more than glance around the room as he anxiously awaits her return. All the while aware of the fact that, if anyone or anything was to seek him out with intent on doing him harm, he could do nothing to defend himself.
That alone was enough to send him into a mental turmoil.
No one liked the idea of being helpless. As someone who had already experienced utter helplessness more than once in the past, he was all too familiar with it.
The slightest sound, imagined or otherwise, was almost enough to make him jump with unease.
He was alone. Unable to move. Reliant on Ayala’s speed and determination to help him. At the complete and utter mercy of anyone or anything that might happen across him while she was away.
He hated it. He hated being so helpless and afraid.
It was such a relief when she finally returned. He had no idea how long she was actually away for, but given the amount of supplies that she had brought along, it must have been a while. It appeared as though she has grabbed anything and everything as recommended by the book, just because she did not know what the exact problem was.
“I’m back!... I’m back.” The woman exclaims as she bursts back into the room. She is quick to calm herself once she arrives to find the animatronic still awake and... About as functional as before.
She then drags the heavy cart of supplies over to where he sits, so that she can get started on repairing him.
“A-alright, I uh... I’m gonna need to open you up, alright? I’ve grabbed everything we should need. So... Hopefully I won’t have to bring you up to parts and services.” She murmured as she approached.
While he could not relay his understanding to her, he did appreciate that she was trying to communicate with him. She clearly understood how uncomfortable this situation was for him, and so she was making an attempt at easing away his discomfort. She was just trying to help.
He trusted her to help him. He just wished that he could make it clear that he did. But for the time being, all that he could do was sit and wait for her to patch up the issue.
He doesn’t like not being able to see what she’s doing. Nor is he a fan of not being able to walk her through what needs to be done.
But still, he does trust her. She is a smart woman. Compassionate. One who has gone out of her wait to get trained on animatronic care, just so that she could be of use during emergencies such as this.
She has helped others in the past. There is no doubt in his troubled mind that she can help him now.
Still. He is anxious. He cannot help but be anxious.
Especially when he feels the woman press her fingers down on the specific pressure points around his temple, triggering the release of the plate that covers the back of his head.
The brief silence proves palpable. He can tell based off of it that she is... Appalled, by the state of him. Disturbed and overwhelmed by how years of abuse and neglect have left him completely and utterly broken, inside and out.
He feels how her hands tremble as they brush against the open edges of his metal skull.
As much as he wants too, he cannot even offer a reassuring word.
It doesn’t hurt. At least not the same way that it once did. He has long since grown accustomed to the constant discomfort of his body as it slowly falls apart on the inside. So much so that he can no longer remember a time where something inside of him did not feel... Off.
He can hear her when she takes a long, deep breath.
Then he finds himself startled by the sound and feel of air as it blows into his open skull.
Canned air, specifically. He can hear the familiar hiss as it escapes the can.
But still, the unexpected sensation startled him. He had only really anticipated the feeling of wires being disconnected so that they could be replaced.
His anxiety only increases when, after a few seconds of being aired out, he hears the woman start to cough.
Shortly after which, he sees a cloud of dust particles and mystery fibers start to drift into the air in front of him.
No wonder the poor girl was coughing. With the amount of dust being blown out of him, it would have taken a miracle for her to have been able to breathe at all.
Despite being the one with his head opened up and in the process of being cleaned, he cannot help but worry about her.
She should have a mask on. She should have grabbed any and all PPE that was at her disposal, for her own sake.
If anything inside of him breaks, it can be repaired. But fixing an issue inside of her body was not nearly as simple, and somehow, it would cost more than repairing him.
He would be gently scolding her for being so foolish, once his voice was back in working order. She should know better than to put her own health at risk for his sake. Because truly, she was irreplaceable. He would not be happy if she went and hurt herself for his sake.
Eventually, the canned air either runs out. That, or it was put away once the debris had been thoroughly cleaned out.
The woman takes her time once she actually starts to deal with his damaged wires. He can feel as she lightly pinches each individual wire between her fingers to follow them to their connection point. Probably so that she can keep track of which wire leads where, so as to keep from damaging him further.
The big issue is that his wires are rather... Disorganized. Previous technicians failed to keep him properly maintained, and so there is no doubt in his mind that all of the wires in his head have transformed into tangled mass.
The patience that the woman shows in carefully sorting through the wires puts him more at ease. It is a relief to learn that she will not just pick a random wire and tug it haphazardly out of place.
He can feel everything that is done. Every touch, every tug, and every disconnect; on top of the ensuing consequences of a disconnected wire.
Previous technicians never bothered to take his pain into account when working on him.
It was honestly touching to be shown so much care now. Soft touches like the ones he was being given now were few and far between for the animatronics. Especially during times of maintenance.
One by one, the damaged wires are disconnected so that they can be untangled, removed, and replaced.
With each disconnection, some part of him is momentarily taken out of commission. His limbs will lock up, or go limp. He loses the ability to see, or to hear, or even to feel. His voicebox is shut off entirely with one disconnection.
Previously, he would have been distressed each time one of his senses or abilities was taken away from him. But the gentleness of the woman’s actions and her slow, calculated efforts make the experience a lot less stressful than those prior.
She only takes one thing from him at a time, so long as she can manage. He can feel how she carefully arranges the wires and secures them so that they will not get tangled as easily in the future.
Bit by bit, she repairs him.
His eyes flicker off with the disconnection of a damaged wire. She goes through the process of working a replacement into place, and then his vision is restored. The wire is secured, and then she moves on to the next one.
Gradually, he regains the ability to move. He occupies himself by testing his mobility while she fixes him up. He lifts and flexes his fingers. He stretches his jaw, and works his tongue to assure that all is in order.
Eventually, he can feel his voicebox come back into working order.
“Ay-a-la?...” His voice croaked as he attempted to say the woman’s name. As broken as the words sounded, he at least confirmed that he could speak again. There was no more static. Each syllable could be heard loud and clear. It would just take some time for everything to be recalibrated through use.
He can feel her jump somewhat in response to his voice. Most likely because she had become so engrossed in her work that she failed to anticipate that he would inevitably speak.
“Yes?” She quietly replied.
He could feel her hands as they continued to work. She was very nearly done replacing all of the damaged wires in his head. Soo, the procedure would be over and he would be back in top shape. He just needed to be patient for a while longer.
“... Are you al-right?” He asked.
For a split second, he can feel how her fingers falter as they follow a wire.
“I’m fine. Just... Trying to concentrate.” She eventually replied.
“You were cough-ing...” Jho muttered in turn. He can tell that she is intentionally being vague with her response. She knows why he had asked her if she was alright. She just chose to interpret it as him asking her because she was being uncomfortably quiet.
“You were really dusty.” She responded.
At last, she finishes working on him. Or at least she finishes working on the wires in his head. After what she’s seen, she fully intends on opening up his torso to see how bad the poor bot is internally.
Jho remains quiet for a moment as she carefully closes the back of his head. He also makes sure to hold nice and still, just to make it easier for her to finish up.
“... I uh... I-I have not been checked in quite some time.” He awkwardly states. Now that the stress and anxiety of the moment had passed, he was actually quite embarrassed. She had just seen him at his most vulnerable. She had been made witness to the horrible reality of his existence.
Broken and dirty.
He struggles to find the will to turn and look her in the face once she’s got him closed up.
He also flinches somewhat when he feels damp cloth being rubbed against his body. Mostly because it is cold, but also because of how awkward he feels after having been seen in this state.
He remains quiet as the woman cleans him up.
For as awkward as he feels... It also feels nice, being properly maintained. Ayala is gentle with him even as she wipes the dust and debris from his neck and shoulders. The animatronic even finds himself leaning somewhat into her touch when she brings the cloth up to clean around his head and face.
What a surprisingly relaxing sensation. He never found this much comfort in cleaning himself off.
“Must feel a lot better now. Having all the gunk cleared out.” Ayala hums. She brings the cloth around to clean under his jaw, just to be thorough. He finds himself arching his head back to give her more room, unintentionally leaning back to rest his head on her shoulder as he does.
The contact is only maintained for a few seconds. But it does work to ease away the lingering tension.
“Much better.” He sighs.
He then finds himself glancing over his shoulder as the woman puts her hand on top of it.
“I’d like to have a look in the front.” Ayaka asks.
After having seen how horrible of a state he has fallen into just in terms of his head, she could only imagine how bad the other access point might be.
“... If you wish.” Jho replies.
He then shifts somewhat so that he can awkwardly lay himself back atop the table.
While he does not personally believe that he is in any further need of assistance, he certainly won’t be turning the woman away. She has been a great help to him so far, and a great comfort to him in his time of vulnerability. If there was anyone that he would trust to work on him further, then it would be her. And he would rather not wake up tomorrow to find fresh problems brought on by lack of care.
The woman made her way around to stand beside him once he was comfortable. The book came with her. She had already turned it to the needed page, detailing the inner workings of his torso.
She finds the pressure points to unlock the latch, and she opens him up.
This time around, the poor animatronic can experience the full embarrassment that comes with having the woman see the poor state of his body. Because just like her, he can see how horrible the interior of his torso looks.
Layers of thick dust and grime cling to the wires haphazardly strewn throughout his body. Frayed rubber that was meant to cover said wires sit in a tangled mess of filth. She could run her finger through it and then turn around to write on the wall, and the words would stand out clear as day.
“... Jho. I love you. But how the fuck do you still work?” Ayala comments after a long, almost stunned silence. She is legitimately surprised seeing just how... Filthy and damaged, the animatronic is on the inside. And baffled by the fact that he is still functional, despite it all.
“Uh.... I’m built different?” Jho replies, admittedly trying to make a joke to ease away the awkward tension. He could tell that Ayala wasn’t trying to judge him. She understood why it was that he had fallen into such a state of disrepair. It wasn’t as though Fazbear wanted to spend the time or money to fix something if it did not appear to be broken. And as it were, he had been able to perform his duties just fine up until now. He had also been more than happy to just let himself steadily grow worse as he went out of his way to avoid being sent to parts and services.
She understood his situation. But that absolutely did not mean that she had to be happy seeing him in such a horrible state. She wanted nothing but for him to be happy and comfortable. And it was obvious that she was now questioning just how happy and comfortable he could have possibly been while in such a horrible state.
“You must be...” The woman replied, before she began to reach across his chest.
The animatronic is quick to grab her arm. He can tell that she is trying to retrieve another can of compressed air. After her earlier coughing fit, he absolutely will not allow her to put her health at risk. Especially not for him.
“Mask.” He calmly, but sternly states, prompting the woman to roll her eyes a bit. But she does not argue. Nor does she ignore what he’s asked of her. She simply steps away from him once he lets go of his arm, and she finds a bandanna that she can wrap around her face to keep the dust out of her lungs.
Once her health is secured, he allows her to do what needs to be done.
Ayala gets started on blowing the dust and grime out of his torso. It flies out of him in a thick cloud, accompanied by clumps of debris that drift high into the air, before dropping heavily onto the floor.
It is shameful. A little embarrassing. But admittedly, it tickles a bit this time. To the point that he cannot help but squirm faintly as a little giggle escapes him.
“Jho~” Ayala lightly scolds him, though the squinting in the corners of her eyes make it clear that she is smiling underneath her bandanna. She finds his squirming amusing and can tell that he isn’t in any pain. But she still needs him to hold still so that she can work. There’s a lot of dust and she might need to go through extra canned air if he moves around too much.
“Sorry~ Sorry. It tickles~” Jho chuckles in turn, smiling up at the woman.
Honestly, this was the most pleasant that maintenance had ever been for him. He was nice and relaxed. There wasn’t any obvious discomfort. At least not any that hadn’t been there since before the repairs started. He certainly couldn’t recall a time in the past where he had laughed in the middle of being fixed up.
It was nice, not needing to be afraid. He might have to ask the woman to be the one to do repairs on him in the future, seeing as she had done such a wonderful job so far.
Eventually the dust is cleared out and the damage beneath is fully revealed. As expected, there are a lot of exposed wires. There are also a lot of frayed wires with little strands of sharp metal poking out in every which direction.
Completely unprompted, Ayala takes the time to put on some rubber gloves. Two pairs, to be specific. To reduce the likelihood of being given a jolt, but also to make it less likely that she would jab herself in the finger on one of the frayed wires.
The animatronic is glad that she goes out of her way to do this. He absolutely would have insisted on her doing so if she hadn’t decided to do it on her own. So it made him happy, seeing her make sure that she wouldn’t needlessly get hurt.
Once she’s properly gloved up, Ayala gets started on the actual repairs.
Just as before, she starts by following a singular wire so that she can determine where it leads. The connection points determine its purpose and how it is supposed to be arranged inside of him. She is careful and precise with her movements, intent on making the process as painless as it can possibly be for him.
Oddly... This is when the animatronic starts to feel strange.
Each gentle tug of a wire stirs something within him. Something familiar, and yet so incredibly foreign, given the circumstances.
It starts with a tingle.
Not in the typical unpleasant “I can’t fully feel my limb and yet sensations are being amplified” manner, that he usually associated with repairs. But in the... “I am being given sexual stimulus” sort of way, much to his disbelief.
At first, he legitimately has to convince himself that he is imagining things. Because there is no possible reason for this situation to be arousing him.
It is such an abnormal reaction that he has to clench his jaw and grip the sides of the table in order to keep from squirming. Particularly when the sensation escalates from a slight tingle to jolt.
A strong, powerful jolt not unlike the sensation of having his genitals stimulated. One that somehow is creating the illusion that all of those erogenous zones in his pelvic region are being given attention at the same time, despite the reality being that nothing is touching him at all.
He cannot help the faint whimper that escapes him as the woman works.
At first, she does not appear to notice it, because she is so engrossed in her work that she is mentally tuning out the quieter sounds of the room.
As a result, she remains oblivious to the effects that her actions are having on his body.
As she carefully works a cable out of a connection point, he clenches his fingers around the edges of the table.
When she runs her fingers along an individual cable to separate it from the clustered mess in his torso, it sends pleasant jolts coursing through him. Specifically through his pelvic region, bringing him to the point of near orgasm each time.
The jolts only get more intense when she installs a replacement cable. To the point that he knows that, if he were capable of producing his own lubricant, the table would be completely and utterly soaked between his legs.
The sensations only grow more intense the longer that she works. And it would seem that Ayala cannot help but take her sweet, sweet time.
She’s no perfectionist. At least not with matters more trivial, like sweeping or cooking. But right now, when she’s working on him? She is determined to do everything in her power to get the job done correctly.
And it is slowly driving him mad.
She’s not even halfway done by the time his voice escalates in volume. Enough so that she inevitably takes notice of the unexpected sound that had escaped him.
Her hands falter and her gaze moves from his chest compartment to his face.
He locks eyes with her. Half lidded and desperate. All the while he struggled to keep still, because her hands are still inside of him, and her fingers are still lightly clasped around a wire.
“... Does it hurt?” Ayala quietly asks. She sounds concerned, as she rightly ought to be. But she also sounds confused. Which she also has the right to be, given the unusual way that Jho is behaving.
She could not tell if the noise that escaped him was one of pain or of... Something else. But she naturally does not want to continue as she is if she is somehow hurting the animatronic. Surely there are ways for her to finish without it needing to be unpleasant.
“N-no!...” Jho groans in response.
Fuck. He was so close. If she had removed one more wire, he probably would have made a fresh mess. One that would be a little more difficult to clean up than the dust all over the floor.
A barely audible whimper escapes him as the woman’s hands shift ever so slightly inside of him. Another faint jolt rolled through him in response, adding to the unintended torture of the circumstances.
“Are you sure?... I can stop for now if you need a break.” She replies. Obviously she is starting to feel uneasy, given his strange reactions to the stimulation.
She even goes so far as to release the wire so that she can withdraw her hands.
Never before has Jho reached out to grab someone with such speed. The movement would not even properly appear on film, if the scene were to have been recorded.
“No!” He exclaims, desperation in his voice as he prevents the confused and mildly startled woman. Thankfully he realizes right away that he has come on too strong, and so he releases her from his trembling hands. “I-I’m sorry, I just... Please. Please, don’t stop.” He groans, his voice quickly transforming into a pathetic, pleading whimper as he speaks.
Regardless of the amount of shame he feels for behaving in such a way, he cannot help but beg her to keep going.
For a moment, Ayala seems hesitant. Unsure of whether or not she should comply with what he’s asked of her. But she does inevitably place her hands back inside of him so that she can resume her work.
The difference now is that she has been made acutely aware of his every reaction to what she is doing.
Every groan. Every minor twitch or tremble in response to having his wires touched, removed, and replaced. She takes notice of it, and it slows her progress even more. Thus this sweet, delicious torture is drawn out even more as the animatronic lays helplessly atop the table.
Inevitably, as Ayala replaces one of the few remaining wires, Jho reaches orgasm. And it is the most intense orgasm that he has ever experienced in his life. The sort which makes his whole body briefly spasm, as if suffering from an electrical discharge.
The woman rightly pulls her hands out of his chest as he rides out his orgasm. The 3 in 1 sort of ecstasy that cannot be described in any way, outside of complete and utter euphoria.
It is wild, intense, and bewildering in nature. Never would he have anticipated that he could achieve orgasm without being given some sort of overt sexual stimulation. Either by having his parts touched, or by getting lost in the sensation of touching someone else.
Maintenance was an entirely non-sexual situation. One that, up until now, he had only ever associated with pain and stress. Something distressing and traumatic. Not erotic and intimate, like it has so unexpectedly become.
His fans kick on in response to the intensity of his orgasm, flooding his open torso with a rush of fresh air in an attempt to better help him cool down before he can overheat.
By then, the remnants of his mind slowly flicker back into reality and take notice of the fact that Ayala is staring at him. Her flushed face and wide eyes make it clear that she has finally been made fully aware of what her actions have brought about. She is very obviously flustered, and a little unsure as to how she should react. Rightly so! Jho himself wasn’t even sure what to make of this bizarre situation, despite being the one that had just ejaculated in response to having his wires pulled.
“Uhm... Are-... Are we good, bud? All done with... Whatever the fuck that was?” Ayala squeaks out, her voice quiet and awkward due to how flustered she has become. It is the same tone that she develops when caught off guard in the midst of a sexual situation. The sort of tone that reads as “I don’t know what just happened, and I need a minute to figure out if I was into it”.
The animatronic lets out an awkward chuckle in response. One that admittedly sounds like more of a pathetic, desperate whine.
“Y-yes.” Jho replies, his voice admittedly glitching out somewhat due to the lingering effects of orgasm. He quickly does what he can to settle himself back down, so that the woman can finish replacing the few remaining wires.
Ayala, meanwhile, needs a few moments to get her mind where she needs it. She is very clearly a bit bewildered by what just happened. Not disgusted, mind you. Just obviously caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events.
Within a couple of minutes, she is fine to pick up where she left off.
All that she needs to do now is replace the few remaining wires, and then attach the proper restraints to keep them secure and organized.
It is obvious that she’s a little distracted, though. For as gentle and precise as her touch remains, there is the faintest tremble in her hands. A slight hesitation in her every touch. Shy and awkward from the inexperience, but eager to get the job done, and to get it done well.
Having already had his otherworldly orgasm, Jho is able to hold relatively still for her. Though now that she is aware of how aroused this situation has made him, he has no intention of hiding the fact that her efforts are affecting him.
“I am going to ravish you.” He murmurs as he watches her work, his voice deeper and more hungry than it has ever been before. To which he hears her squeak out a flustered “Oh?!” in response.
The pleasant jolts resume as she finishes up with her task. Not because of her tugging at his wires; though that still plays a part; but because he is able to clearly see the tremble of anticipation that rolls through her in response to his promise.
She has thoroughly but unintentionally gotten under his metaphorical skin, and he has every intention to repay her in kind.
Not just to pay her for that delightful orgasm that she gave him, but to thank her for the tender love and care that she has shown him throughout what would otherwise have been a nerve-wracking experience.
Eventually, the maintenance reaches its conclusion and she closes him up with gentle, trembling hands. At which point he sits himself back up and impulsively reaches for her, eager to savor the delights of her soft, human body.
He can hear her breath hitch in her throat as he tugs her closer for a kiss. Slow, and intimate.
He keeps his eyes open and locked on her expression as his mouth dances against hers.
She’s so cute when she gets flustered. So adorable and bashful when he lightly drags the tip of his tongue against hers. Instinctively shy and too embarrassed to hold his gaze, despite being unable to keep from locking eyes with him every so often. Which only manages to rile him up further.
He breaks the kiss to taste her skin.
His tongue lightly glides along her cheek, towards her ear. He knows that her ears are sensitive. So he takes a moment to indulge by gently licking the shell of her ear, before carefully nibbling on the lobe.
She trembles in response. Not from fear, but from an inability to keep still as his antics rile her up in turn.
Once her ear has been left damp and pink from the stimulation, he moves downwards to her neck. He wraps his arms around her tighter as he practically creates a collar with his tongue.
Her skin is so soft and delicate. Especially when compared to his body. He adores how malleable it is.
The faintest of growls escapes him as he mouths her neck.
Not a threatening growl. But a growl of arousal in response to movement. He can feel her subconsciously grinding herself against him as he decorates her neck in marks of his affection.
He can’t tell if she’s wet, or if the ejaculate from his earlier orgasm is just adding to the sensation.
Either way, her clothing has become something of an annoyance. He wants to feel her skin. He wants to spoil and treasure her body just as she did with him throughout his maintenance.
These clothes need to go. And they need to change locations. He won’t be laying her down on this dusty table.
“Jho!?” A quiet, startled squeak of his name escapes her as he unexpectedly adjusts his arms to hold her against him while he stands.
He comforts her with an affectionate nuzzle as he makes a beeline towards his personal workbench.
It is a bit cluttered, but he otherwise keeps it nice and clean. There will be more than enough room for him to sit her down and worship her the way that she deserves.
She squeaks again as he sets her down.
The surface of the workbench is cold and startling against her bare rump. He has wasted no time in working her out of these annoying clothes as he places her upon her temporary throne.
Startled as she is, she clearly understands the game plan.
As he works her pants and underwear down her legs, she responds in kind by working herself out of her shirt and bra.
He gently scrapes his teeth against the skin of her knee as he kneels to get her fully freed of her clothing. In his haste, he had nearly forgotten about her shoes. But he takes the time to properly untie the laces so that he can slide them off, and he stuffs her socks inside of each shoe so that they cannot lose them in the chaos.
Once her lower half is bare, he cannot help but take a moment to admire her legs.
Slender and soft. Her thighs have a fair amount of meat to them, compared to the rest of her. He gently works his way between her legs and encourages her to squeeze his head between them. Just enough for her thighs to flatten against his metal cheeks.
He loves the way she feels.
Once he is done indulging in the feel and weight of her thighs, he coaxes her legs apart so that he can better indulge in another of his favorite pleasures.
She’s already nice and wet. Her skin is nicely flushed with arousal.
Beautiful. But he can make it more so.
He makes a show of getting ready. She isn’t afraid of his dangerous looking maw, and so he takes advantage of the fact to better arouse her. He opens wide and allows his tongue to snake out of his mouth, all the while maintaining eye contact.
He can feel her tremble with anticipation.
She leans back somewhat and spreads her legs further for him, inviting him to spoil her just as he deems fit.
Still, he cannot help but tease.
Gently, he scrapes his teeth against her inner thighs. She spreads her legs even further, silently pleading with him to hurry up and taste her properly.
He works his tongue along the inside of one thigh, lapping up the thin layer of sweat that formed at some point throughout the day. He cleans her thigh all the way up to the very edge of her vulva, before abruptly withdrawing so that he can repeat the process on her other thigh.
Ayala whines. She squirms. She bites the inside of her lip and lets her head fall back as a delighted tremble takes hold of her when he licks that sweet spot near her pelvis.
Once he’s thoroughly enjoyed the taste of her thighs, he gives her what she’s been waiting for.
He brings his hands up behind her legs to them around her hips. As he does so, he presses his face fully between her legs.
A delighted gasp escapes her as he drags the full length of his tongue between her folds.
He can feel her tremble against his tongue.
Unable to help himself, he lightly nibbles on the delicate skin protecting her clitoris. Just to coax it out of the way so that he can properly stimulate that sensitive little lump.
“God~!... Jho~...” Ayala sweetly mewls his name as he eats.
He purrs in response, giving her his usual loving look as he curls his tongue to usher it inside of her.
He fucks her with his tongue. There is no better descriptor.
He presses it in as deeply as he can and withdraws it time and time again. Sometimes fast. Sometimes slow. Sometimes he adjusts the positioning of his tongue so that he can drag it along her exposed clitoris as he sucks it out of her vagina canal.
She gasps. She moans. She squirms in his hold and desperately places a hand on the back of his head just to find some sort of support.
Wet, loud, and messy. The evidence of this adventure will undoubtedly leave a stain on the surface of his workbench, and he will gaze upon it fondly whenever a bad day has left him sour.
He works her gently to each orgasm.
Some hit her slowly, but with intensity. Others hit her quickly, but subtly. He moans at the feel of her inner walls spasming dramatically around his tongue regardless.
Neither of them keep track of how many orgasms she has. There is only the delight of the peak and the excitement of building back to it.
He withdraws his tongue to bring the oral adventure to a close only when she meekly strums the back of his head.
The “safe word”. The sign that she has gotten overwhelmed and needs time to settle back down before they continue.
Gentle kisses are placed on her thigh while he waits for her to move her hand so that he can stand up.
He places additional soft kisses along one side of her body once he is given the room to move. A trail of wet kisses form a path all the way up to the nape of her neck.
One there, he brings his hands up to gently cradle her face.
The poor girl really did get worked up.
He affectionately presses his forehead against hers as he thumbs her tears away.
She’ll be fine. He overwhelmed her with the pleasure. Nothing more. She just needs a few moments to catch her breath and settle back down.
In the meantime, he is more than happy to wait. He enjoys cuddling with her just as much if not more than he enjoys working her to orgasm. So he has absolutely no issue showering her face in kisses or just holding her while she calms down.
When she is ready to continue, she tentatively wraps her legs around his hips to guide him closer to her.
No more oral. No more teasing. As much as she enjoys it, she wants him to feel good right along with her.
Another light growl escapes him as he ushers her closer to him. He reaches down to guide her hips with his hands, encouraging her to lay back just a bit more to give him the room to lock their bodies.
One hand moves around to press against the small of her back. The other wraps around to support behind her shoulders as he leans forward and encourages her to lay back.
He nuzzles the top of her head as he closes the distance between their bodies.
Ayala gasp proves all the sweeter as he slips inside with ease. She’s so warm and slick, delightfully so.
“A-Ayala~” He quietly moans her name as he begins to rock his hips against hers.
It's faztastic, being with her like this.
The needy whimper of her moans. The trembling of her body as he guides her through this R rated dance. The heat of her body. The dampness of her breath. The slick, yet perfectly sticky feel of her insides swallowing him up.
Wonderful. Addictive, even.
He cannot help but kiss her. Touch her. Cradle her against him as they ride out their shared orgasms.
The stains that they’ll leave on his workbench will never wash out, and he doesn’t care in the slightest.
In fact, he welcomes the stains as a reminder of these newly created, positive memories.
Memories that will remind him of more than just the pleasure. They will remind him of the intimacy of the moment, and of the relief he felt when she first stepped through the door to rescue him from his plight.
Memories of her tender touches, and the care that she put into helping him in his time of vulnerability.
Memories of the first time that being repaired had ever made him feel fixed.
She fixed him, and she did so in more ways than she could ever realize.
He loves her for that.
