Chapter Text
By all means, you were in for a fairly normal night. Normal as one could say about you, in any case. At some point your former autoresponder, Hal, had arrived at your home and insisted on watching a movie with you. This was, frankly, par for the course with Hal, as he loved tormenting you with movies he'd already watched tons of times.
And, as per usual, once you had taken your place on the couch, he had decided your place was also his place. His legs were slung across your lap, his arm around your back, and his head rested on your shoulder.
The first time he'd tried this with you, years ago, you'd practically shoved him off.
Now, however, you simply let it happen. You were absolutely positive that he only did it out of some misguided sense of pity for you, or that he thought that any form of physical affection was solely for your benefit - that you needed it, and you didn't want to come groveling for it. (You sure didn't need it, but you were also not going to plead for it like a little baby.) That was the only way you could slice it that made sense to you - otherwise, you were sure he would prefer to be as far from you as possible.
Still, you were a few failed attempts past convincing him to stop, as he had been insistent about it.
So now when he seemed to be trying to snuggle ever closer to you, you just tended to let it happen. If he could get it out of his system maybe he would allow for more time in between now and the next movie-watching session.
At least the added benefit was that he ordered you food every time he did this. So it was an improvement from your usual nights, which involved scrounging something from your cabinets since you forgot to get groceries. You feared the day he tried to look in your fridge and would, inevitably, start trying to fill it.
You had eaten already, and the movie was drawing to the close of its final act. Hal had forced you to sit through all 2 hours and 49 minutes of Interstellar (2014) and you were about to start getting antsy.
The hand he normally rested in his lap had come to settle on your side, and that was almost enough for you to tap out several minutes early. His room-temperature fingertips had started tracing little dick patterns over your shirt, and you were starting to wonder if he was just in an exceptionally touchy mood. You were hard-wired to expect him to pull some scheming bullshit that ended up with you hilariously close to embarrassment, because his tormenting of you never ceased.
It seemed you were in the home stretch, though, as the credits started rolling and you were formulating an excuse to get out of here in your head, even if the back corner of your brain was telling you that you were comfortable, god damn it, and it probably wouldn't suck if you were to fall asleep right here.
But just to your luck, the threads of fate seemed to shift ever so slightly, and in hindsight you probably would've felt the very direction of the night veering off course and into a ditch, if you had Dave's time powers or maybe Rose's Seer abilities.
Hal's head tucked closer, until his hair tickled the side of your head and you could feel his cheek press to your shoulder.
You shivered, involuntarily, from the contact, and that subtle detail seemed to amuse the fuck out of the robot currently clinging to you like you were his mother. (You distantly heard his voice in the back of your head correcting your usage of 'robot' to the word 'android', and subsequently discarded it.)
"Are you alright, Dirk?" You could hear a smug edge to his robotic voice, knowing damn well he could've made it sound more human, yet he chose to make it different, uncanny.
"Go fuck yourself, man." You replied, eloquently.
And that was the second moment of the night you should've felt something in the timeline shift.
It was also the moment you felt Hal physically shift his weight, before adjusting his position to be sitting on your lap. You gave him an unimpressed look as he stared at you for a moment. His hands rested on your shoulders, and his ass was planted firmly on your thighs, which you were at the very least grateful for. He had designed this body to be significantly less heavy than previous iterations, but he was still supporting most of his weight on the knees bracketing your legs.
You watched as his expression underwent minute changes - something he had definitely programmed himself to have, as you were pretty sure your own expression would never - as he seemed to think about what he was about to do next.
"Alright." He said, and you had already forgotten what he was replying to.
His right hand came up to cup your cheek, while the other one slid down onto your chest. There was a split second of hesitation before he bent down to press his mouth to yours.
You had always thought that when people used the phrase 'his brain short circuited' or the like, that they were self-absorbed and downright idiotic. But that was, essentially, what your own brain did in this situation. Absolutely all higher function was turned off for a brief few moments as your mouth dropped open and he stuck his tongue in there, prodding at your own. His mouth had a rigidity that wasn't the greatest, but you supposed it was better designed for this purpose than it could have been. Even so, there was an element of it being so incredibly inhuman that must have flipped something in your brain, because you sure as fuck weren't stopping him.
After a few moments, his vigor seemed to slow, and the kiss almost became sweet, nervous, doubtful. That was what seemed to snap you out of the reverie. Your hands - which had come to rest on his hips, what the fuck - moved to press back on his chest, all but shoving him away.
His mouth didn't produce saliva, but that didn't seem to stop some of yours from trying to cling to his tongue.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Well you see, Dirk, when two boys tolerate each other just enough, they-"
You interrupt him, trying to muster any kind of anger in your chest despite your heart wanting you to continue where you left off. "No, dude, enough with the bullshit, you're going to tell me what you're up to right now. Even if I already know the answer, which is that you're fucking with me."
He has the decency to hesitate on an answer for a moment.
"I'm only following your latest command." He said. "I believe the phrasing was 'Go fuck yourself' and well, you're here-"
"You know you haven't listened to anything I've told you to do for years, dude."
"Who's to say I can't start now? Anyways, Dirk, I think you should consider shutting the fuck up. You were enjoying it, weren't you?"
"I didn't have much time to consider enjoying it with you trying to stick your tongue down my throat."
"Then let's try again, shall we?"
Hal didn't give you much time to argue again, but this time when he came in to press his synthetic lips to yours, he was a lot more gentle and patient. A little too emotional for your liking, so you took the initiative. Your tongue prodded into his mouth, exploring what he had designed to offer. It certainly had elements that stood out as unusual to you, but something in your brain chose to focus on the sharp teeth he was sporting, sharper than your own. It was subtle, but enough of an element to stick out to you.
He took this as an invitation to increase the energy put into it. He edged closer, sliding his hips forward until he could put his chest against yours. You could feel the gentle thrum of his internal mechanisms over your heart, the warmth radiating from his power supplies.
His arms came to loop behind your neck as you were managing to cover the inside of his mouth in enough of your own saliva to make it seem like he was supplying at least even a bit of his own.
You distantly wondered whether he had modeled any of it on your own mouth, and that was a thought that was enough to break you into a mild sense of coherency out of the sheer what the fuck factor.
Your saving grace from thinking too hard about what it would be like to kiss yourself was Hal pulling away, to instead lower his mouth to your neck.
If trying to make out with a robotic (android-ic?) mouth was weird, then feeling his lips over the skin of your neck was profoundly odd. Unfortunately, that was not enough to deter you from tilting your head back to give him more access. You were wondering at which point your logical brain would kick in to put a stop to this, but at this point nothing seemed to quite be happening on that front.
Even when he reached your collar, and decided to press his sharp teeth to the skin uncovered by your loose tank top, your body's masochistic tendencies seemed to send warmth down your spine to your groin.
It was almost like he seemed to sense that, as his hips pressed just a little bit more firmly against your own. His tongue swiped at the pain his teeth left behind, though you could imagine it probably only served to move any blood around. The pressure was relieving for a moment, though.
He rocked his hips forward again, just enough pressure to start the process of waking up your dick.
You couldn't muster the energy to mind his eagerness, though, as he was pressing more kisses and light bites to the skin of your neck, and one of his hands was kneading carefully at your chest. As your hands were on his waist, you could really only accept what was coming to you.
It wasn't incredibly long before you were hard, your dick pinned between yourself and him, the friction he was applying just enough to send little sparks through you.
It wasn't long before your clothes were becoming too apparent of an annoyance, though.
You weren't brave enough to do anything about it.
Hal was showing no signs of stopping, but you couldn't get it out of your head that any moment he was going to pull a "gotcha" and leave you there to stew in your shame. It wasn't like he'd ever gone this far to fuck with you before, but you weren't quite ready to trust him with your entirety quite yet.
The hand on your chest slid down your abs and teased just above the waistband of your jeans. He leaned back enough to see what he was working with as he moved his hands to undo the button on the front.
While he did, you were left leaning back as hard into the back of the couch as you could, your breaths coming ragged. You could only gaze up at the ceiling as the zipper on your jeans came down, and you could feel him hooking his hands into your waistband to pull the offending clothing article down, down, down. You wondered, briefly, how you got to this point.
You were pulled out of your thoughts by the fact you no longer felt him moving. You lowered your gaze back down to him, finding his blank shades peering at you intently. It wasn't really a secret that he could display lights on his shades to show off his bright and shiny emotions, but he never really seemed to utilize them in your presence. You'd never really bothered to think about it all that much, until now, when you really wished you knew what the hell was going through his head, or where he was looking.
Jesus Christ, was this how other people felt about you?
Deciding not to dwell on it, you ask, "What?"
"Are you zoning out in the middle of this?"
"It's more like I'm praying to whatever god is out there that will take me in on the date of my inevitable death, after this." You reply, your voice unsteady. Now that you could feel the air on the underwear that served as your only barrier between your cock and the wide world, you were finally seeming to settle into some coherency.
"Oh, get over it. Am I good to go?"
If the cold on your dick wasn't going to do it, Hal Strider asking for permission to crack open your cock was what absolutely put the nail in the coffin, making everything seem a bit more real.
You drew your arms into crossing over your chest, pretending that it wasn't a subconscious way of feeling like you were protecting yourself. "Are you serious right now?"
Hal's head tilted, and his hands were on your shoulders again, and you didn't really know how to be handling this right now. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I mean, what are you doing? Why are you so eager to get your hands on me? I realize the whole being close thing was kind of iffy to start with, but I'm pretty sure this breaks at least several barriers of hand-waving shit as normal."
"Oh, come on, Dirk. I'm just trying to help a guy out."
"Are you?" You shook your head in disbelief. "There's helping people, and then there's whatever you're doing."
"No, see, this is standard bro stuff. Platonic homies are always jerking each others shit. What is friendship for? And before you go and make several hurtful comments on our friendship status, I will remind you that I am entirely willingly here, about to have my hand on your dick, and your sexual activity hasn't surpassed your hand and your own hand-made pleasure devices for at least seven months."
By now he had sat back on your lap, copying your arms-crossed pose almost to perfection. You would've shuddered at it if you weren't already feeling heat crawl up your face. "As if you know jack shit about that, man. You don't have cameras in my house or access to all of my devices as much as you want me to think you do."
"Dirk."
"What?"
"Can you put aside your need to control everything and let me help you the fuck out?"
Well. The doubt in your mind managed to shut up at that, especially once you saw the corners of Hal's mouth downturn, and you knew there was only one way this was going to turn out.
"I understand you think I'm getting something out of this, but I'm not. I am quite literally here, practically on top of your dick, ready to give you a suitably decent time-" You scoffed at that, "-and you don't even have to do anything. No homo, no romo, you can quite literally imagine anyone else in my place if it makes you feel better."
You stared at him, trying to figure out if there was anything behind his expression that would tell you how serious he's being. You didn't believe for a moment that he's doing this out of the good will buried deep in his metallic heart, but you could not for the life of you figure out what he was getting from it.
Eventually Hal lowered his arms again, and a hand came to trace over your hip, and you could feel your dick still straining for freedom despite being in the middle of the most conflicting conversation of your life.
"Fine." You replied, begrudgingly. It was like something in Hal's posture loosened at that. He crept back until he could lower a leg to the floor, and made quick work of tugging your jeans the rest of the way down to your knees. Moments later went your boxers, and finally your dick was free for the world (or just Hal) to see. Thankfully, Hal didn't waste a whole lot of time examining it. Instead he came down to his knees on the ground in front of you. His gaze was trained on the member before him, and he dragged a finger up the underside of the shaft.
The contact was warm, his hands having heated up in the time he spent groping you. For whatever reason, the thought of your very own body heat warming him up distracted you, but it left when you felt the smooth pressure of his hand wrapping around your length.
It wasn't the most effective, but it did have you releasing a small sigh as he swiped a finger over your tip, which was already leaking an amount of pre.
Thankfully, he had the sense to lean back and take what appeared to be a bottle of lube from his sylladex (when the fuck did he get one of those?). He made something of a show of popping the cap open and pouring a little onto your dick in the manner one might issue ketchup or some other sauce onto a hot dog, which you were really trying not to think about, because coming up with horrible metaphors at this moment was probably one of the worst things you could do.
He saved you by putting his hand on your dick again. You were pretty sure you were as hard as ever, and it was evident in how easily you could feel your coherency ebbing as he started to move. He gave a few experimental pumps at the base, before moving up and swiping his thumb over your tip again.
Your arms had, by now, come to rest at your sides, because you couldn't find another use for them other than vaguely scrabbling at the surface of the couch.
The image of Hal on his knees for you was certainly doing something. He looked so focused on the task - you could tell he wasn't meeting your gaze. You felt the heat deep in you, and you decided settling a hand on Hal's shoulder was enough to keep you from doing something more deranged.
With each pump you could feel it going to your heart, to your legs, and you were having a hard time not thrusting your hips into his hand. As though anticipating that, Hal's free hand moved to your knee. He parted your legs a little wider, and then settled it on your hip, keeping you firmly in place.
His hand was firmer than you were used to, without the soft give or rough texture of your own fingers, but it was using the slick of the lube more effectively than you ever could. His movements seemed precisely calculated, measured and perfected.
Your breath came even heavier as you felt your sensitivity increase gradually. For a moment, seeing him standing on his knees and leaning over your lower half, you were a bit overcome. And that was why, you reasoned, you reached out to cup his face with your hand in order to pull him into another kiss. He seemed surprised at that, if the way his hand seemed to jerk a little imprecisely on its next journey up your dick. The sudden movement had you groaning into his mouth, which he used to claim yours as his own.
It was a little less embarrassing with the moans working their way through your throat being muffled by him. You could hear something like the fans in his chest skittering into a higher speed, and you were suddenly very sure that meant he was especially happy about you kissing him of your own accord.
You didn't have time to dwell on that as he pulled away, his mouth staying open for a split second after its removal from you, before leaning back to settle onto his knees. His hand on your dick stopped just long enough for you to wonder what he was doing. Your answer came rather swiftly, as he seemed to be speedrunning the process of ducking his head between your legs.
He started dragging your boxers down further past your knees until they bunched along with your jeans at your ankles. Then, you watched as he briefly looked up at you, then back down, and then ran his tongue up the underside of your dick.
You had to hold back a surprised noise at that, and then you were leaning back again, and he was taking the head into his mouth.
It wasn't like a normal mouth, with the wet pulse or the natural warmth, but it was warm as it engulfed you. The press of his tongue wasn't soft with any give, but no matter how hard it was, it rubbed at your head with an almost loving carefulness. He sunk down even deeper, and it was with a startling speed he came to hilt. Let no one ever say you'll ever be surprised about the lack of an android's gag reflex ever again.
He didn't seem to have the full capacity to properly close his mouth around it, but he got damn well close. Your brain didn't seem to care as the act was sending little sparks through you.
You dropped your head back onto the couch backing with another low moan, and your hand found his hair, running through it. It was soft, and when he made another pass with his tongue over the head of your dick, you tighened your fingers on what you could grab. He obviously couldn't feel the tug, but something inside you still focused on being careful so as not to hurt or damage him. It almost felt like he leaned into your hand before his left hand came to hoist your leg over his shoulder, while the other came to wrap his forefinger and thumb around the base of your dick.
You couldn't really help it anymore, as with each time he took your full length into his mouth, your hips rocked up into the sensation.
You distantly recalled that he still had your spit in his mouth, and that was mingling with the lube to make his ministrations that much more effective, and there was an obscene sort of slick noise coming from between your legs. Your heel dug into his back where it was over his shoulder, and he had the gall to give a little hum in response.
The vibration from lower in his throat traveled through your length regardless. You pressed your hand harder onto his head, keeping him down.
The sensations were enough to get you feeling that familiar warmth in your gut, where it told you that you were threatening to spill over quite soon. You gave another moan, louder this time, not trying to hold it back too much anymore.
"Hal, fuck, keep going." You mumbled, your thoughts too focused on more, more, for your conscious brain to remind you of shame. "That's good, that's good, Hal."
Something about what you said seemed to incense him, as he sped his pace up further with more eagerness behind it. After a few more moments he lifted his head, replacing his mouth with his hand once more, keeping up the same pace he'd been going at. The hand around the base of your dick already moved to pay attention to your balls, and you were pretty sure every exhale you were making was either a pant or a moan. You threw an arm over your face and knocked your shades askew as you did.
"You're doing good, Dirk." Hal's voice was in a tone you'd never heard from him before, and if you were in your right mind you might've said it sounded amazed. "Come for me."
The praise did something to you that you would never mention to anyone - not even yourself - ever again, but it ultimately resulted in a full-body shudder. With a loud groan you came, and Hal kept pumping you through it, until you stopped and were left heaving for breath.
You felt the warm splatter of cum seeping into your tank top, but that by no means was a new experience for you.
You lifted your head again, weakly trying to look at what you were left with, as your softening dick began to chill the fuck out. Almost immediately, Hal disengaged, pulling his hands away and idly wiping them on the couch at either side of you. You were left wondering why you felt so unhappy that he wasn't in contact with you anymore, and why he seemed suddenly so distant.
"Uh." You said, intelligently, trying to form words. "Thanks."
Nice one.
Hal replied with just a little hum of confirmation that he heard you. He started to stand.
You quickly bent forward to grab at your boxers to pull them up, wincing a little at the fact you now had lube and cum on your couch. Both of you were silent as you did so, and he seemed to be content standing there and watching as you got them around your hips, and as you adjusted your shades back into place. For whatever reason, an embarrassed warmth was spreading across your face, and you were trying your best to beat it back with as much effort as you had.
"Hal?" You said tentatively as you sat on the edge of the seat and pulled your jeans up as well. Looking at him, he stood there passively as he watched you.
"Yes, Dirk?"
After your most recent experience, you thought you could excuse it as you yearned at the back of your mind for him to get closer again.
"Are you going to stay any longer?"
Hal tilted his head, and seemed to hesitate. "Do you want me to stay longer?"
So you figured he was waiting for you to tell him to fuck off.
You weren't sure what part of your brain was making the decisions as you said, "Sure. Can you, uh, help me clean up? I should probably go wash off. Do you want to watch another movie?"
Another moment of hesitation.
"Sure." He replied, his tone flatter than yours. You wondered why, but you recognized when he - and likened it to what you tended to do - was trying to suppress any hint of feeling. It still hurt, a little, feeling him that distant. But that was just a copy of how you were with him, wasn't it?
Suddenly, your initial distrust of his intentions seemed really, really shitty, even to you.
You vowed to yourself to make it up to him. The second movie and, you presumed, the subsequent cuddles he would force on you would have to do, as you were suddenly at a loss for ideas of how else to.
You dismissed yourself to the bathroom, and did your best to clean up what you could. You had to change your tank out for a new shirt, and you decided to change out the rest of it for a fresh pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. When you got back to the living room, however, there was no sign of him.
Your mind reeled for a moment, and it only seemed to get worse when you looked in the other rooms of your place and you didn't find him. The couch was, at the very least, cleaned of all evidence, but you couldn't see him anywhere.
You checked your shades to see if maybe he left a message saying that he was out for a few minutes.
Nothing. In fact, there was even more than nothing, and a pit of dread opened up in your chest as you realized his pesterchum status was offline. He, in the entire time that you had him around, almost never went offline. He only did so when he was upset, or when he was literally shut off, and you knew which of those options was likelier than the other.
Pacing your living room, you tried to think of why he would've left. For a moment you racked your brain to think of the events that you now could review with total clarity. You wondered if he had felt forced to do what he did, but no. If anything, he was the one trying to pressure you, so you didn't think he would be upset about that, unless he now thought you weren't into it. You didn't really think that was entirely the case, though.
Because, unfortunately, you were into it.
Which you didn't explore more of in the slightest. It was just the kind of platonic bro shit, as he said, that you could get up to with your buddy-slash-roboclone, and it didn't really need any further examination.
Ultimately, you came up with no answers as you dropped onto the couch, defeated. You held out the temporary hope that he would return, though, so you settled down to spend the rest of the goddamn night in the living room just in case.
You sprawled out over the length, trying not to recall how the whole ordeal had felt, and how you were moaning like a bitch in heat for a solid few minutes, or however long it had actually lasted.
You covered your face with a groan, hand sliding under your shades to push them up.
"Fuck."