Archive of Our Own

“I will only ask this once, human… ” 

The digitized vocalizer snarls from under his shaking, exhausted frame, a rumble under his tone that would have otherwise intimidated any foe if not for his position. He sits upon his knees, hands limp at his sides. The glow of red dots, arranged in a triangle on his head, flickered weakly in the dying light of day. He had endured enough grief, enough suffering, and in this final desperate attempt to claim territory for what little was left of the Null Sector, Ramattra looked upon the massacre of his soldiers, of his people, and let out a cry that triggered a click behind his eyes. 
Then there was nothing. 

He felt nothing. A void, a loss of will. There was no goal to have had, anymore; impossibility outweighed the purpose he had poured his entire being into. From above, the grounds below him were desecrated with bodies; crushed remains of once animated machines that littered the roads. It was akin to a trampled garden, with flowers pulled from their stems and crumpled petals sprinkled upon the dirt in an anguished display of inflicted trauma. 

He’d screamed at the sight, and his staff had shattered in the palm of his hand— an exploding, glassy flurry of purple sparks that imbalanced him and scorched his core with a cold, lifeless insurgence. The sudden burst of volume that erupted from Ramattra came out inhuman and overlapped, the additional roar of his nemesis form sounding far more like two bellowing cries that shook the windows of nearby buildings and made the roof tiles beneath him tremble. 

For the first time, Ramattra realized himself conquered; an essential part of him was destroyed at the end of battle. He had no power. No allies. Not even despair could move him, where he found himself sliding off the roof and collapsing into an alley, the arms of his larger form only just catching him before they reverted in his utter defeat.

For the very first time, Ramattra felt nothing at all. The intensity of all he’d felt moments ago reversed by a failed emergency reset, else he may have shut down then and there. He could not see a tomorrow past today’s excruciating loss. And his request gave way to such insight, a trembling groan in his words as if he had already begun to lose reason to even speak— wholly drained of any soul he’d once been certain he had.
“Will you be my undoing?”

And there you had been, a sworn agent of protection. Human .

He’d known you, once. Long ago a guest to a home he could no longer remember, dare the shepherd call this human a friend . But that was what felt like a lifetime ago, titles no longer mattered.
You’d pressed a finger into your communications link to notify your team that you’d found the ravager, and approached despite receiving an earful of commands not to. Thus you remove yourself from the channel.
Here at the end of the alley sat the feared shepherd of the Null Sector, perched upon his knees with his face tilted toward the ground. You started toward him steadily, bending before him. Outstretched toward him was a hand that gracefully cradled the side of his faceplate, caressing down his jaw and taking his chin between its thumb and forefinger, pulling his gaze up to meet yours.
“It would be my honor, Ramattra.”

The omnic himself did not know much of what he was asking, but your compliance served him a sense of comfort that he did not have to think into it.
“Slow.” He grunted, as you sank to your knees in front of him, and he in turn lowered himself to sit on his ankles. 

Suffer, Ramattra thought— a word he’d tossed around so heavily, to reference the pain of his people— to accuse humans of being the root cause of such torment— to deliver it back to its oppressors.
And now, he thinks, suffer — a fitting means to an end of the cycle, by the hands of a human. He never once had any doubts that he’d meet any other end. All that he had fought for had been for the sake of others, not himself. 
And now, all for naught. 

You obey calmly, slowly leaning forward to press a hand into his lower stomach while the other carefully fans out over the ridge of one of his external ribs. The large frame of his chest ever so slightly expanded and rose shakily beneath your palm, as if he were to take a trembling breath, and gradually resumed position. Ramattra did not move otherwise as you were granted the moment to explore the torso of his being, discovering yourself in awe as you take in the beauty that he is with your hands. 
You’d known him, once. A distant observer so wary of your presence, stalking beneath the shadow of your every footstep as if laying in wait to discover your ulterior motive for visiting. But you never wavered; dare you say you managed to charm the Ramattra so long ago.
And now being up close, to observe him , it was a wonder to study how each panel of his body slid over each other so quiet as he sat idly, deceiving you almost as human by his subtle movements. Before, he’d been nothing but another stiff machine with the misfortune of having a conscience. Now you wondered what purpose the illusion of breath served for an omnic. 

Your gaze met his after a few moments of disguising how enthralled you were, feigning a stoic demeanor as if to match his lack of expression. You decided not to test his patience further than this, the weight of the situation finding you suddenly when his faceplate somewhat tipped in your direction, and you realize quickly that this ravager could very well change his mind at any given moment. 
But with a mere second longer to look into the absent spaces of his mask, surely where his optics rest hidden and peer back at you, you began to second guess if he’d do anything to you at all. 
There would be no point to killing you now, unless to revel in one last, pitiful victory. 

“Your hand.” Comes your request, as you move back and place your hands upon your knees.

As if it took every ounce of his strength to summon movement within his limbs, his arm rises awkwardly from his side and he turns his palm upward to you, segmented fingers going lax in a curled position- something also notably human. You grasp his large hand with both of your own, the size of his palm taking you aback. You spread your fingertips into the flat of his hand and curl your fist around the top half of his wrist (even the smallest point of his arm you could not fit your entire hand around), noticing quickly that he was trembling. 
Was he afraid? The cool metal of his fingers curled around your arm in return, a weak gesture as if to merely mock you, then he released his grip and relaxed. The trembling stopped.

“On with it.”

You nod, and pull both your hands to the attention on his wrist. A ball joint fitted into the barrel of an arm, attached by a slide stop which prevented the panel of armor that covered the limb from slipping down his wrist. Before you started, you immediately began to hope he’d change his mind.
You unlatch the stop skillfully, gaining access to a silver hinge of which you begin to twist until it came loose. You ease the conduit from the ball joint, finding some magnetic resistance- but as soon as it was free from his wrist, his hand tensed, then fell limp. The omnic flinched, and your eyes shot up toward his face as if you expected to get a read of what he was feeling. The ball of his wrist easily disconnected with a small pull, now only attaching the hand to his forearm merely by delicate electric wiring. He hummed uncomfortably.

“Can you feel that?” You ask curiously, sliding your touch beneath the tightened wires. His shoulders click and shake.

He muttered, “Just continue.”

You got your answer. 
There was a jarring warmth that rushed to your head, a leap of a heartbeat which made you swallow down an impulsive thought. But as you duck your gaze back toward the thin red and black strings that left his hand dangling from his arm, you considered the idea again. His undoing , he’d said.
He uttered nothing of preservation.

Grasping the metal sphere into your hand tenderly, the perspiration of your palm aiding in a stickening hold, you suddenly jerk your elbow back— Ramattra’s body stuttered in time with the snapping of wires, his own arm shooting backwards as a faltered cry reverberated from his vocalizer. He leans back somewhat as if to get away from you, shoulders stiff, his functional hand gripping tightly around the dead end of his other arm almost in offense.
He was trembling again, and this time you could hear it. A nearly inaudible rattle of his chassis that would have otherwise gone unnoticed if not for the private silence between the stone walls of the alley. He stared upon the open space where his wrist once was, though still he could not summon a reason to halt his own dismantling. 

He looked up, watching as the human before him cautiously set aside his dead hand, relaxing the digits to close as though to lay it to rest. You honor me , he thought.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

The question almost offended him, if even that was something he could bring forth to feel anymore. He shook his head calmly, bringing his shoulders to relax and extending toward you the remainder of his shorter arm. “No.”

And from there you continue, caressing your hand over the top of his forearm while slipping gentle fingers into the mouth of his wrist, unfastening another release that loosened the external panels of armor. They popped up with a hiss, and you slid them past the unlatched stop with ease. 
You worked your way up his arm, to his shoulder, ripping into wires that you knew now without a doubt that Ramattra could feel- it was just a matter of knowing if this was painful to him that you couldn’t be certain of. He’d made a noise with every tear, or when you’d loosened the components of his arm and pulled them apart. Pieces held together by magnetization often made him shudder.

He was not loud by any means, and every other time you could have missed it if not for your careful hearing. But the further in you went, the less you noticed his alerted sounds, his form instead tensing in anticipation for every sudden movement. 
It felt criminal to be disappointed by his suppressed reactions. But you just couldn’t have this.

Curling your hand around the cylindrical joint of his shoulder— all of which was left of this limb— you looked to Ramattra suddenly, and he tilted his head back as if in surprise.
“Ready?”

He just barely hunched inward, lowering his head again, and his body went rigid in wait. He gave you no other answer, and only in this specific circumstance were you ever taking another’s silence as a go-ahead. You yank your arm backward just as before, but his shoulder did not come with you.
Instead you’d snagged the frayed ends of wires that hung from the joint, pulling and pulling— but being cautious as not to break them. There’d been a suppressed grunt, abruptly interrupted by a choked yelp, and then a cry. A loud moan was pushed from Ramattra’s chest with every ounce of fraudulent breath he’d had, the sound dying with the sharp arch of his back. He sputtered a sound of resistance, flinching away from you, but the tightness of the threads intensified and this coughed from him a beautifully strained whine. 

You gawk at the omnic wide eyed and release the wiring, hearing your heart hammering in your chest. Ramattra simultaneously went slack, his form clattering altogether as he relaxed, seated, with a vocal sigh. And he shivered.

But he did not tell you to stop. There were no words that came from him at all.

He remained perched on his knees and staring at the ground, his chest heaving. It was beginning to dawn on you the concern you should have felt when he’d initially requested this, and there was a sinking feeling in your chest. Was he truly taking pleasure in his chosen demise? Had he no shame? Was there anything happening in that processor of his at all? His silence was absolutely jarring.

He’s broken, you thought. 

And it was true— several warnings and alerts clouded Ramattra’s hud that he could not even begin to care for. A major system reset had been interrupted in the midst of his mourningful roar from earlier, but the omnic questioned the point in fixing anything about himself since he’d failed. All he could think about was the people he’d lost, his fallen friends and allies. The terror he had witnessed on the streets of Kings Row so long ago, and the fear he’d struck into people when he was merely asking for aid- just because of his model. 
He remembered the death of a close friend, Lanet. His friends abandoned him. He’d taken to such terrible methods to rebuild his army, this very army, now nothing but remains to be swept from the city and forgotten. Talon did not uphold their end of the deal.
Perhaps they were right. Of course they had been right. And here he was with nothing.

All of these thoughts swarmed in his mind as if they were the only parts of Ramattra’s life that he’d lived. It was all he could think about; all that he could remember, spiraling and sickening every part of his being. He no longer wanted to be part of it.
So take it all apart, he thought. Deconstruct the last Ravager; Free him of this wretched prison of a body, so he may not do harm or be harmed ever again.

But then you called to him, his name. He cleared the alerts so he may look at you again, unable to make anything of your furrowed brow and subtle frown. Your hands came up and cradled his face, to which he unconsciously leaned into your hold.

“Are you sure about this?”

Your heart still raced, your throat ran dry. There was a thrumming in your stomach that would not let the sound of his strangled moan escape your mind.
You’d agreed to this to honor what little free choice that omnics like him had in this world, but even still there’d been a surge of hope that he’d change his mind as you went along. But that hope was slowly ebbing away, especially now in his prolonged hesitancy to answer you.

“Ramattra?”

Alerts continued to overwhelm his gaze: System reset. Memory saver damaged. Several missing components. Yes, he knew his arm was gone. A sigh finally moves him.

“Yes.” 

“Yes?”

“I am still certain. Go on.” His tone rang clear, sounding a bit more like himself- irritated and impatient. 

But something wasn’t right about this.

You glance regrettably at the pile of broken wires— perhaps you shouldn’t have been so hasty. But that sound , you think. It was so unlike him. How awful were you to take advantage of him in this kind of state, to elicit such a desperate response from just the tug of some wires? 
The omnic wanted to be undone, that was the request. 
He did not tell you in what way.

“Still slow?” You double check, rising up on your knees.

“I do not care. Just get rid of it.”

Gentle hands find his chest, “...’it’?” 

“ This ,” he seethed, gesturing down upon himself with his one hand. But there was no anger to his chide, “Destroy it. All of it. Only you, vile human , if ‘friend’ is still a name that holds meaning to your vain image of me. You’d be the last of your kind to think so.”

You push his front and gently coax him onto his back, his temperless scolding continuing as he went down. His legs unfolded from beneath him and bent at the knee, pedes running flat upon the ground. Even with every harsh word he’d used, there was no passion. There was no longer meaning to being insulted as a human, hearing instead parroted descriptors from the fervorous hatred that once burned from his very core. This was no Ramattra.

You toss your leg over his side and sit below his chest, grasping his ribbed exterior. 

“I’ve done enough, I’ve seen enough. It all meant nothing to you. Human arrogance, its primitivism, could never accept other forms of intelligence as anything but a threat to its supremacy.” He summoned a sardonic laugh, “There was no winning; you brought us here, and have taken us away. I will go with it. I am done —”

“Ramattra.” 

During his monologue, he’d taken no notice of the hand that gripped his chin again, just as before, and turned his head toward the face of his chosen demise. His words fell deaf in his throat, vocalizer emitting but a hum when he finally grasped the position he was placed in. 

“Pay attention.” You murmur, feeling the body of this omnic slightly deflate below you in some false sense of relaxation, providing you with just that: his attention. “I’m going to keep going, but I really need you to think about this.”

As if to refer to what you were speaking of, you grab again at the wires that hang from Ramattra’s shoulder and give them another good pull. He lurches under you, heels digging into the ground as his midsection suddenly rises and nearly tosses you off, a sudden sob shaking his entire form. Once more your heart fluttered, encapsulated by his beauty; the lock cables which imitated hair lay scattered around his head, like a dark pool that framed the pristine white of his mask. His shoulders (and what remained of one) trembled as he came down from his scream as soon as you finally let go, collapsing back upon the alley floor with a clack . Half a moment had passed before Ramattra’s faceplate jerked toward you as if he’d had something to say, but you beat him to the punch to ask him a simple question.

“Can you do that for me?”

You humans with your flabbing faces, stretching and contorting into different shapes and, sometimes, becoming different colors. Gawking the openings of your face-flesh just to reveal other organs merely connected by meat strings, pulling back skin that wrinkles and excretes oily substances just from a brow raise, widening the eyes- and you call that expression . Not once have you considered what a horror it is, of having to flop a wet, pink mound around a gaping, slobbering hole in your skull just to utter sentences. It’s sickening. Your face was a terror to analyze.

That’s how he would have thought on a better day, anyways.

For once, Ramattra finds, he did not mind how your face had shaded itself a warmer color when you spoke to him. He spotted an old curiosity that shone on your bottom lip, just barely parted from its upper twin to reveal the hidden white of your teeth just behind the skin. He’d have never thought he could be so calm to have a being of flesh and blood sit on top of him like this.
The way your playful hand twirled around the broken wires from his shoulder and sent more signals to his hud, that something was wrong, but it tickled the broken joint and disturbed other currents throughout his chassis. 
Something akin to human pleasure.

Dare he call these sensations and observations nice , it still wouldn’t mean anything. It held no significance to him. There would be nothing to miss of this, even if he took it upon himself to rethink his decision—and yet, he pondered, would he ever be spared another opportunity to indulge in such an odd experience? Could anyone trust him again, be within his reach so willingly, as if he were not the spawn of trepidation, or incapable of any harm at all? If he could find it within himself to reforge his shepherd’s crook, walk again with a sense of purpose and resentment for the biological, will he ever be satisfied for not knowing what it would have been like?

Would he regret it if he tried—... tried… what?

“Have I lost you?” Your voice came patiently.

Patience. No, he didn’t deserve such a luxury. But he couldn’t deny that he needed that right now; patience. Go slow. For him.
He needed to think, afterall. But to hell if he’d admit it.

“I am thinking.” His response was uttered bitterly, but at what, he couldn’t fathom. He’d found no error in your actions- in fact, he found it rather difficult to make much of any opinionated judgment toward you at all. It wouldn’t matter what he thought, he kept thinking, whatever choices he had left would change nothing. Whatever he had to say about anything now would be meaningless. Thus he invited, “Do what you will. Whatever curiosities you have crawling in your brain, commit to it. You won’t deter me .”

The words were spoken as if he’d had some ultimate plan, something you could not distract him from like you weren’t the one doing everything he’d asked for. His answer baffled you.

With a furrowed brow, you began, “I didn’t say anything about—”

“Do you take me as ignorant?” He immediately snapped toward you, “I can feel that .”

Your face became extremely warm, and suddenly there was a ringing in your ear like an alarm was going off. Embarrassment made you want to shrivel up, to jump to your feet and make your escape as fast as you could. 
There was indeed quite the feeling between your legs, which drummed against the omnic’s stomach like an inviting knock. Humiliation decorated your expression, and Ramattra almost could have laughed. 

“By some miracle, your associates have not discovered us yet. You may as well try me , while we have time.”

He could not be serious. 
To have offered himself, twice? Your heart rate has accelerated to unhealthy speeds, and his open invitation left you feeling far more guilty over your interest. This was absolutely the worst time for this. But this was Ramattra, a friend you had once grown to appreciate despite his retributive attitude toward you just being human. There was a time he’d forgotten to remind you of what you were, though, and for a short while there had been hope for him. You were lucky now to be able to get this close to him again, and blessed with the chance to take things this far. 
This could not be a missed opportunity.

“If you insist.” You dare to joke, and Ramattra turns his face to the side to pull away from your eyes. Immediately hurt by his sudden disinterest to look at you, you add, “But first…”

You push yourself forward and sit upon a knee that pressed into the center of his chest, your other leg steadying you from the ground. He remained still as you changed your position, but it mattered little to you. You were going to finish that shoulder.
Grasping the cylinder hub, you gave it a harsh twist that cracked against its stop, and his entire body winced. And with another yank, the joint was forced loose, and he snarls again below you as sparks fly from the broken wires. 

Without letting him a moment to rest, you begin your tugging game once more, relishing in the way he twitches and writhes under your perch. You could hear his struggles to refrain from being so loud again, instead gasping and panting beneath the electrical torment you ensued. 
It was your turn to jump, then, when suddenly a large hand clapped over your leg and squeezed into your thigh with a force that made you pause your ministrations. 

“Slow!” Ramattra barked, but you defiantly took a fistful of the buzzing threads and ripped them from his side— one quick movement that finally gave way to another yell. His fist slammed on the ground as he arched upward briefly, before he suddenly surges forward and you knocked backward. His one arm catches you behind your neck just before your head can hit the ground, but now you find yourself sitting in his lap with your legs tossed over either of his hips. He sits hunched over you, crowding into your space with his face, and you notice the thick cables of his mane were somewhat drifting around his head in an intimidating display. 

But he said nothing. There was a silent static that made your skin crawl.

You stare wide-eyed up at him as his form appears to heave over yours, breathing heavily. You can hear the stirring of some kind of cooling system within his chest, probably something that did require the passage of air in order to run. Perhaps that answered the purpose for illusory breath among omnic kind. He respires, afterall.

“Slow.” You repeat the earlier command softly, blinking steadily. You tried not to smile, but it was difficult. “You meant to ask me to slow down?”

“Yes.” Ramattra drawled under an exhale, and to your surprise he added kindly, “Please.”

Human hands find the sides of his faceplate, but they do not seize him. Your fingers glide past the large silver bolts that mock the appearance of hinges above an immovable mandible, placed where ears would be if he had any. Then, tracing down, you run the top of your palm beneath his jaw and entice him further toward you, just until he is bent down enough to press his forehead into yours. Nearly his whole frame enveloped you— if not for the lack of an arm on one side, he could have held you with both his hands.
And, for the moment, he would have liked to.
While he remained this close, you cup his peripheral sight, tilting your head up, and place a gentle kiss upon the juncture between white carbon fiber and violet titanium. He produced a short noise of surprise, but then remained compliantly still until you pulled away. 

He refused to entertain himself the thought of wondering how long you’d wanted to do that since you’ve known him.

“Let’s get back to it.” You hummed, pushing yourself to sit up. Ramattra quickly gets out of your way, leaning backward until he was only propped up by his elbow, so you could rightfully take back your seat on his waist— but you sat back a bit further down, instead straddling his pelvic plate. He flinched at this, earning you a grunt from the large omnic. 
Immediately you notice how perfectly shaped this panel was, fitting nicely between your legs as if it were meant for someone to sit on . With a surge of confidence you promptly begin to grind yourself forward, gripping the handle-like bars that jut from his hips and taking in a deep breath. For every time you came down, his pelvis would slightly hump to meet yours, and it dawned on you after a moment that he was actually enjoying this— he’d had his head roll back briefly and a heavenly sound reverberated from his vocalizer. 

From the corner of your vision you caught Ramattra lean toward you somewhat, his absent shoulder stuttering forward and then stopping abruptly; he turns to face the empty space where his arm once was, now an organized arrangement of pieces left on the ground, and grumbles something incoherent under a quiet exhale.

This brought a smile to your face, growing with an overwhelming warmth that began to flare in your lower abdomen, especially so at the realization that he’d wanted to touch you just then. He shuddered. But he would otherwise have to sacrifice his good view of the human on top of him just to use his functional hand.

“A damn shame,” You speak to him, letting him know his attempt had been seen, “If only you didn’t want to be taken apart.”

On cue, you had snuck your fingers into the space between Ramattra’s thigh and pelvis, snagged some thick cables, and drew them out with a tightened jerk. His entire leg jumped behind you, and he sang for you a moan that could have been a melody. As he collapsed and shifted, metal fingers scraped into the ground with an unpleasant sound that countered his song, and you couldn’t help but laugh quietly- breath hitched- when you’d accidentally rolled your hips forward too far and caught the crease of his panel. Now it was you who flinched, and slowed yourself to a stop and bit back a noise of your own pleasure. Your body ached to keep going, everything from the waist down tense or trembling.
Let’s… work on that leg.

You get up off him quickly, his gaze following you, moving to sit at his side and get up close with the leg opposite his missing arm. As you try to keep your breath even, you observe what you were working with. This one wasn’t going to be destroyed, you told yourself, you were going to figure out how to safely disconnect the wires without damaging them. Just in case.

“Do you have a safeword?”

Your question clearly came as a surprise to him. As if he hadn’t heard right, Ramattra requested clarification, his voice resetting in the midst of him asking, “What?”

“If you want me to stop at any point, what’s a word I should hear for that will let me know that?”

“So you mean to admit that humans don’t know what the word ‘stop’ means?” Came his snarky response, and your brows raised. There it finally was, that snide attitude you knew him for. Things had to be turning upward now if he could manage sarcasm again. The corners of your lips turned.

Feigning a hurt pout through your grin, you mumble to him, “You could have just said ‘no’.” 

“As if you know what that means, either.”

You yank the loosened cables from his thigh and he jolts, a growl hot in his chest. He scoffs at you.

“Fiend.”

And you let out a cheeky laugh. 

You make quick work of the straps that secured sepia cloth to his thigh, rolling it down to his knee. The build of his leg wasn’t unlike his arms, smooth exterior panels that armored more delicate components within— but still attractive nonetheless. He was a large omnic, and there was just something about the size of his limbs, the size of him , that made the heart of your arousal pulse. You kept tossing glances to his modesty panel, desiring nothing more than to return there.
And you would, but you had to get this thing off first.

“Are you done already?” 

His tone was flat as he slowly pulled himself up onto his elbow again, but you were sure there was a note of disappointment when he added ‘already’. You twist a simple safelock by his hip and the top panel of his thigh clicks as it comes loose. It was fascinating how much you could take apart without the use of professional tools, save for the more intricate systems that provide him with senses of touch, pressure, temperature, and the like. They were easily removable in whole parts, but would require more dedicated attention and drivers for proper deconstruction.

“No,” you murmur, “are you feeling desperate?”

Ramattra grunts pridefully, “I could never stoop so low as to experience desperation in the way you do.” 

As you move his armored pieces from his leg, revealing a complex structure of wiring, coils, and pistons, you still yourself and glance up at his face.
“Is that right?”

“What are you thinking?” His question follows yours far too quickly, and he goes rigid.

Your heart had not once calmed for a moment within the last several minutes, and it was beginning to grow hard not to breathe too fast. Trying not to seem so excited about any of this was becoming increasingly difficult. You’ll have to let yourself loose eventually.

“Are you scared?” A question for a question.

“No.” He said stiffly. But the leg you worked on ever so slightly shifted away from you.”I’m… concerned.”

A finger tucks itself under the end of a coil, warm to the touch. You unhook it, and it springs backward before rolling off his leg and across the ground. Another rumble shook his chassis, similar to a growl, or a purr. You couldn’t decide which it was.

“What worries you?” You get up on your knees, and Ramattra defensively pulls his leg toward him and sits up somewhat straighter.

“If you’re thinking about— What you were doing before , on an open electrical system wi—”

He was cut off by your sudden burst of laughter, and you quickly covered your mouth. But your amusement was made known, and it silenced him.

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggle, “I don’t mean to disappoint you, but I’m not that stupid. I wouldn’t take that risk even if you’d asked.”

“Oh.” He responds plainly, going lax. His leg slowly falls back flat, and his shoulder deflates. “My mistake.”

“It’s okay,” You coo, climbing over his leg so you were situated between his thighs. You knock softly on his pelvic plate, “I’ll take care of this though, if you’d be so kind as to open it for me.”

If Ramattra could gulp, he would have cartoonishly done so in that moment. 
It had been a slow readjustment from the overwhelming emotion he’d had earlier to having none at all, but he was finally beginning to re-engage with what was happening. Nearly pulled back into his senses, he could process your charm— the way you smiled at him, how you took such gentle care in removing his every piece as if you were handling an artifact of beauty (unless of course, it was a part of him you’d learned triggered certain sensations throughout his body). He could admit to himself his gratitude toward you for making sure this is what he wanted, while also indulging in your own desires along the way. In a way, he felt somewhat worshiped. 

Leave it to a human to turn any task into something rewarding, he thought.
Leave it to a human to almost make him want to see tomorrow.

He has to sit up fully in front of you to use his hand, and you quickly stole this opportunity to lean in and kiss his chin. He hums, a bashful sound.

“You are aware I cannot return that gesture.” He says as a statement, rather than asking. “I thought the first time was an accident.”

“Should I stop?”

“That is… up to you.” He answers dismissively. 

The modesty panel beneath his hand comes loose with a short hiss, and he sets the piece to the side to reveal an impressive mock-up erection underneath. You would have liked to have held his gaze, but you could not refrain from the urge to look down, staring in awe at the beautiful segmented device with a transparent silicone skin. Familiar black and red wires trailed beneath the synthetic cover, and you knew immediately what kinds of readings Ramattra would get from those. 
The back of your hand comes up to caress the underside of his arousal, and before you his entire chest seems to expand with a deep breath. He eases into a shudder before coming back down, a couple cables of his mane falling loosely over his shoulder as he ducked his head.

“Oh this is very sensitive,” you observe his reaction carefully, running a finger along a wire that drew from him a low whine. “Too sensitive. Is that on purpose?”

He was slow to respond, getting his words together before he could catch himself in another whimper.
“Well it wasn’t exactly a passion project. I never intended to dedicate a lot of time into an accurate replica.”

“You made this?” You lift your eyes back up to him, and he turns away from you at once. 

“Of course.” He huffs, almost in a mocking laugh, “Omnics do not naturally come equipped with such things— it was crude of you to assume I had one to begin with.”

“But you have one.”

“I only had just as much a reason to remove it as creating it in the first place; it was merely a fool’s curiosity.”

You grin. “Are you calling yourself a fool?”

“I am not without my flaws.”

“Have you used it?”

“Of course I have.”

“With a partner?” You add for specifics, meeting his gaze again. You were enjoying how much more interactive he was now since you’d found him. You were getting somewhere.

But he growls, his reply hesitant to explicitly admit anything. “I was built for war, not social relations or intimacies.”

Slowly, one finger at a time, your hand closes around the head of his cock, your thumb just barely connecting with your middle finger when it was fully in your grasp. 

“Well, how peculiar you must be, breaking the mold.” You tease, gently beginning to pump him in your palm. Ramattra responds quickly with an awkward jerk of his hips, a strangled sound just barely resonating from under a huff of imagined breath. He seemed to want to return a retort, but whatever word he kept trying to say failed him and fluttered off into a faltering moan. 

He was absolutely a sight to behold. Even as he tried to still himself, there was always something he could not keep within his control that jumped or spasmed despite his best efforts not to. You coo at him to relax, and with that one encouragement he became a stuttering, broken mess in front of you. The hand around him jerked a little quicker, and your other arm extended toward his leg to his unawares. Just as a word began to form from his vocalizer, he felt a familiar pressure just under his hip and a sharpened onslaught of pleasure burned deep into his system.
Noise filled his vision as his sensors were overstimulated by the joined ministrations competing for error, and you were rewarded with a beautiful cry that made your ears buzz. His back collides with the ground loudly, shoulder blades drawing back as he arches hard and snarls at the darkening sky. Metal fingers twitched, unsure of what to do but claw at the ground violently until sparks flew, and just then and there you pause when you heard your name ring from his voice. 

“Please!” he begged, his legs trembling at either side of you. The red lights that glittered from his forehead flickered by the word.

You stare at him, mouth gaped in— what? Shock? Was it amazement; admiration? Bewilderment that he’d had the audacity to lie about feeling desperation? Not that you were surprised about the latter. 
Twitching lips slowly formed a smirk upon your face. How esteemed you were, to have the Shepherd of Anubis writhing for your very touch. However,

“ Do not stop! ” 

His roared command made you jump, a tone deeper than you were expecting. Large calves had suddenly crossed behind you and pushed you forward into him, your stomach meeting his arousal. It made everything inside you lurch to be brought this close, palms flat on his stomach to hold yourself up. You could practically feel his head pulsing against you. 
There was a cold crawling sensation that rolled past your sides, and as you look up you find two very large arms bracing Ramattra as if to protect him from you . His chassis heaved, a gentle kind of panting sound pushing itself from the omnic behind the nemesis’ block. At either side of you, his legs had grown in size, encapsulated by armor that had not been there before— now denying you access to the inside of his thigh. 

You pull back, his cock catching the front of your attire and causing him to shiver, his entire form rumbling around you. Your tongue clicked, a finger tapped his inner thigh.

“I think I’m getting mixed signals here.”

Ramattra’s arms open up, creating something akin to a window for you to see him through. His one omnic arm was crossed over his chest, grasping at his empty shoulder, and for once he actually appeared injured. 
A sound of resistance drawled itself out of him in the form of a whine before he found his words again.
“M-my apologies.”

Strange, you thought, he’d been so pent up then that he’d had the gall to bear his nemesis defense on you. But this side of him hadn’t made an appearance at all when you were removing his arm.

As his larger form reverts in a soft glow of purple flecks, you bring yourself to stand, and his faceplate tilts upward to watch you rise. For just the briefest moment the omnic assumed you were going to leave him then, and he felt repulsed by the panic that began to well up within his chest before he shut it down. Instead a hand reaches forth to slip between his cable locks, tugging on them ever-so-gently and coaxing his head to the side. You bend down to kiss his jaw, and he utters no reply. So you straighten.

“Take these off for me.”

Ramattra’s eyes fell to your bottoms, and for just a second he considered making a complaint. Instead he’d moved his head into an arc with a sigh(a common indication among omnics for ‘rolling eyes’), and feebly raised his hand to pull at the hem of your lower garments.

The faint orange glow of a nearby streetlamp was the best source of light this obscure alleyway had, though a long shadow was cast by the furthest wall which shrouded the upper half of your omnic partner. His hand, emerging from the dark, cast shadows from the dimples his digits pressed into your skin. There was still some day left in the greening sky, streaks of gold quickly fading with the setting sun that had long dipped below the cityscape. Even still, it was not completely dark— you still had some time yet before you’d need to move into the light. 
Faintly, you wondered where your team was.

As your clothes pooled around your ankles, Ramattra hummed into your exposed skin, resting the side of his face on your hip as he leaned into you. You pull your top up over your head and discard it to the ground, both your hands coming to close around either side of Ramattra’s head when he looks up at you. He felt your touch thread his mane, chills running down his rig. He only wished to command you come to him, to allow him to roam and caress your body with his hand and save to his memory every inch of your bare form. He’d never crave for any human, no, but he could crave for you. 
Afterall, he’d known you, once. A visitor he’d learned to welcome; a friend he’d sought to keep company; an interest, of whom he lost the chance to pursue when cowardice took up his time. 

And still you’d returned to him in his moment of sorrow, obliging to shed him of this shell that failed to make a difference in a world that would never see him. He thought you something of an angel, guiding him away from it all.

Ramattra would give you everything he has left if only you asked for it.

He felt your mouth on his face again, and this time he leaned into it. He was remembering again the joy you brought him so long ago for every time he could make you laugh— the bubbling sound sending off fireworks in his chest. His attempts to kiss you back sparked a bittersweet joy, knowing well his affections may be a distant memory by tomorrow. How quickly he went from denying he was capable to returning the gesture in his own, disposed way.

With your hand in his, you were coaxed into his lap. Again he shifts his position somewhat so as to hunch around you, tucking his head into your neck, and your arms wrap around him. He hums, and a large, gentle hand nudges between your legs— your mouth slacks open into a gasp when you feel one of his digits slide into you. 
The omnic is slow for you at first, taking in the burning heat from within your body as your walls clamp around his touch. He rolls his knuckles a few times and emits a noise of satisfaction in the way your body hugged him, both inside and out. His own arousal throbbed at the very thought of burying himself inside you, claiming all that you are and giving you all of him in return. Before adding another finger, Ramattra pulls out, and something within him flutters when he is rewarded with a sudden whimper that whistles from your throat. 

How dare he wound you in such a way as to deny you pleasures only he could provide at this moment? Now to deliver to you his service in pairs, his fingers return to stretching you in a way that felt like artistic practice.

“I wish to devour you,” He murmurs beneath your ear, “to take everything from you that you are willing to give.”

“You can have all of me.” You whisper back, a small gasp nearly cutting off your sentence when the fingers separate, and he scissors you.
Your legs spread further apart, holding Ramattra tighter to you. His hand quickens, the roll of his hand generous enough to feed against your needing hole. Everything ached, your entrance swollen and clenching around the fingers that threatened to escape with every draw back. You encourage him with your shameless sounds, and he was learning extremely quickly with these vocal cues. 

Here , he found, you were most loud and sensitive, and doing this made you tremble. He experiments and plays with your body as if he were learning to create song from an instrument, and what salacious performer he was turning out to be.

However, just as you were getting close, and feeling that familiar buzz in your neck and cloudiness in your mind, you drop a hand down to grab his wrist and he freezes. He allows you a couple of seconds to catch your breath before you pull back to look at him, and he speaks.

“Is everything alright?”

You nod quickly, drawing in a deep breath and a smile. 
“Yes, very,” you assure, “but I’m not going to finish without you.”

For the last time, Ramattra was guided down to lie on his back, soft lips peppering around his vision, and he so dearly wanted you to go on like this forever. But you’d pulled away too soon and turned your back on him, so he began to trace prosaic shapes into your spine. 

“Oh, you’re just touchy, now.” You murmur softly, a heavy exhale from your nose as you stifle a moan. 

His hand paused, “Does this agitate you?”

“No.” you say quickly, fitting yourself to lower onto the shaft of his erection. He hums behind you. You add, “Just never thought you were the type.”

“Do you expect every given behavior to remain a constant?” He challenges, but his wit is quickly diminished as you grind over him, both of you sounding off in unison. Goosebumps crawl over your skin, quick breaths rushing past your teeth.

“I could-” another deep inhale, “-probably ask you the same about humans.”

Ramattra grunts, his grip finding your hip and deciding to remain there. He then echoes nonchalantly, despite the shudder in his chest, “Probably.”

While you made calculated rolls of your hips on top of his aching arousal, you split your focus toward the leg you had since neglected after he’d hidden it from you. Slowly, and carefully, you began to detach heavy pistons just beneath his hip— polished metal trembling in your hold as you pulled it from its magnetic attachments. A stirred groan made its wake from the omnic’s vocalizer, and you teased at these forces that flustered his sensibility. 
Piece by vigilant piece, you detach his thigh from his pelvis. But not without first indulging yourself in playing with his wires and eliciting more beautiful noises from Ramattra.

“One more, one more,” he’d whispered to the release of tension for every unplugged wire. He could no longer move his leg, but the rest of him responded nicely to every sensation he was gifted from the static limb.

You stopped moving at one point, concentrating on some final latches, and a guttural sound from behind you made you jump. The hold on your hip tightened, and Ramattra bucked up against you. You were about to scold him, but then you’d heard your name drawl from him for the second time that day. His shaft twitched between your legs.
How could you deny him of what he wanted?

With one last flip, the thigh is released with a short burst of air, and all at once you disconnect the final few wires. He lets out a cry and thrusts his hips upward again, somewhat awkward without the aid of his other leg to lift him up. The head of his cock brushes against your entrance, and your heart nearly bursts. You move off him.

And as if you’d struck him, the lack of weight and touch and friction all at once ripped a desperate shout that nearly made him lunge at you— but he had half a mind to remain right where he lay.
“ Fuck , please!” The expletive sounded foreign in his tone. How unprofessional, you think, and so unlike him. 

With an insincere gasp, you say, “I thought you didn’t experience desperation, Ramattra?”

You were only off of him for a moment to turn around and fully face him. He watches you closely with bated breath. There was a thought that occurred to him to demand you say his name again; he dismissed it. No thanks to your judgmental observations.

“This…” and he pauses, a feigned inhale breaking his sentence, “...is not the same.”

You position yourself over him, using one hand to properly line it up. 
“Sure looks the same,” your other palm is shoved into his face, turning his gaze to the side. He at first attempted to push against you, resist this punishing hold, but you would not relent. He grunts a noise of discontent.
“Sounds the same. You’re a little more human-like than you let on.”

“No, do not say that—” Ramattra breathes with another attempt to look at you, but your second hand meets his chest, and you push down more weight to keep him from getting a good view of you. Your hips drop, and he fills you in one smooth motion. 

It goes without question that this omnic was huge, and his phallus blended with his proportions. You could not bring yourself to move for several seconds, a ringing in your ear silencing all else that might be happening as your senses were blinded by the feeling of being full. Everything inside you swallows around Ramattra as if to draw him further in. There was a strain against your stomach, a faint bulge beneath your bellybutton that could have easily gone unnoticed. Metal fingers suddenly flex and dig into the flesh of your side with a bruising grip, enhancing the volume of the moan you let out. 

And Ramattra is right there with you, a relieving sob shaking his entire body as you squeezed around him. There was static in his hud.

He’s sputtering to argue and defend himself, struggling as you finally begin to slowly ride him— rising at a leisurely tempo, then dropping when he was on the verge of shoving himself into you on his own accord. Every other few words he spoke was lost and reset, formulating a kind of stutter from his voice.
“You torment me, and I al-allow you to.” Ramattra groans, his entire chassis twitching beneath your weight. “I’ve never once been so obs-obscene. You drew this out- out of me!” 

His pitch went up with the last couple of words, meshed into a scream when you suddenly pick up the pace. It was agonizing every time you lifted off him, your warmth and closeness inching away and leaving him solus. No longer able to resist his own urges, he starts to thrust with you, holding your hip down tight. He spits with some note of mused affection,
“Y-you are vile .”

You could not help but laugh, reminding him, “You allowed it!”
But this sound caused everything within you to clench and wave, abrupt tightness squeezing an electric frenzy of heat throughout your whole body. You spasm, you were already so close.

Ramattra in turn is unsure if he’s going to survive this encounter. Even if you’d spare him the chance to look upon you, the alerts that flooded his vision would surely get in his way. His cooling system could not keep up, a loud whirring that wheezed beneath his vocalizer in such a futile attempt to calm his senses. Even as his chest heaved with every breath, to draw in air and flush the heat out of his body, he was rapidly nearing an overload. He was losing control of everything: twitching and trembling, humping this human on what he dare call instinct . 

He’s rising with your every fall, waves upon waves of ecstasy making him see colors that weren’t really there. The hand on his face lifted toward his chest, and from the corner of his sight he saw the magnificent silhouette of an adored human— the outline of your shivering frame illuminated by the golden lighting of a streetlamp, a source somewhere outside this little box of the world where it was only you and himself. And he never wanted to leave.

Then unexpectedly, there was a choke in your cry, and your form collapsed over his. Your arms encapsulated his chest in a weak embrace, holding onto him with a strength you could only summon from your twisting expression as you approached your orgasm. And the words you’d spoken left him aching like he’d never had before.

“God, I’m going to miss you.”

Ramattra’s one arm clung to your back, bringing you into him as close as possible. He’d wanted to beg you then not to do such a thing, that missing him would shatter the means of his decision. But through his failing systems and ceaseless desire, the words could not form. With just a few more thrusts, a final warning made itself known to him, and he was sent over the edge.

“I-I can’t—” 

Beneath you, Ramattra lurches and curls, his vocalizer resetting several times in a strained moan he could not have even attempted to suppress. He presses so hard into you that you begin to see stars, and one last roll of your hips sends a shuddering high of bliss that leaves you shaking on top of him. You whimper into his chest and hold onto him for dear life, both of you left wordless as you rode out your orgasms. 
And then he’d fallen limp, his arm going slack on top of your back.

You both lay there for several minutes, taking in the silence. 
You’d noticed for the first time how cool it was outside, something that had gone so unnoticed with how close you’d been to Ramattra. This exercise certainly aided in that ignorance, you note. But now it was beginning to nip at you, making your skin pinprick and hairs stand on end. Your partner was cooling down significantly.

You raise your head and look at him, his face still turned toward the wall. 

“Ramattra?”

The quiet you’d been basking in quickly sharpened; he made no sign or acknowledgement to have heard you. There was a sinking feeling in your chest.

“Ramattra.” you say again, more sternly, louder. 

You sit up on top of him and shake his shoulder, looking upon his faceplate and realizing the absence of light that had been shining just moments before. Frantic for just a moment, you look around wildly to find what was wrong, if something had happened that you weren’t aware of. But as quickly as you started searching, the omnic flinched back to life, a small groan stirring him into wake. 

For a split second Ramattra had caught a glimpse of an old home, familiar faces, and the illusion of peace. There was a mountain and a monastery, a warm chuckle from a voice that was not his own, and it resonated in his head and called him ‘brother’. He recalled how bright the stars were. And then there was a human, and he finally remembered. Nepal, the Shambali. You’d met him there.
But you’d also left him there.

A heavy sigh escapes you, and you drop your head with a quiet laugh.
“Did you restart, or something?”

Yes, he thought. A successful reset— he should have done that from the start. How foolish he was, and had been.
His gaze moved toward the pieces of his arm left on the ground. He cleared another reminder that spoke of numerous missing components. What was he doing?

“I imagine it’s rare that an omnic has the privilege to experience a blackout like that.” Ramattra purrs as he rises to sit up, still holding you in his arm. He leans forward to nuzzle his forehead against yours, similar to a kunik, and you meet him halfway. He jokes, “You are talented in your wiles.”

“What high praise,” you volley, “you charm me.”

Ramattra felt… good. And tired. 
With his memory fully restored, an error he was not fully able to grasp the significance of until it was returned to him, he found that he really just wanted to go home. There was still a place in this world that he knew would welcome him. Multiple places, really, if you’d allow him to remain in your arms for however long he wanted. And after a moment of him relishing in this fact, you finally speak up again, clearing your throat.

“I have to be honest. I don't think I can go through with this.” 

For a second the omnic was confused, until he caught you looking at his dismantled arm. 

“Ah.” he acknowledges, “No, I… I believe I am having second thoughts.” 

Your gaze shot up toward him. “Really?”

“Yes. I thought about it. As you asked.”
His tone was gentle, refusing to admit that he merely needed to power down and allow his system to flush itself of his… emotional compromise. The outburst had done quite the number on his processor, an embarrassing feat, and he’d rather die now than confess he was merely experiencing an easily fixable malfunction. You looked happier believing you’d convinced him of something, anyhow.

“Thank god— Thank you. ” you sag against him in complete relief, and his chest vibrates with a chuckle. His hand runs down your back in soothing gestures.

“Well, I think it would be in our best interest to find a better place to reside than a back alley, if we’re still being searched for.”

You nod and lean off him, scanning the ground for your clothes.
“Yeah, I don’t doubt my team is going to give me the lecture of a lifetime whenever I get back.” You collect your garments, rising to stand as you put them back on.

“But I know a place we can go. Do you sleep?”

“I can.” Ramattra tilts his head, “...Do you think you could help me reattach my leg?”

Your face immediately burns, and you suck in your lower lip under your teeth. You hadn’t exactly taken to memorizing where certain parts were meant to go, you weren’t an engineer. But he was. Surely he wouldn’t berate you much for being clueless if he guided you?

Thus you answer, with a squeak,
“It would be my pleasure, Ramattra.”