kelaruj:k-13: [[Original Art @ Kelaruj]] [[Color Edit @ K-13]]“It seems you are at the e

kelaruj: k-13: [[Original Art @ Kelaruj]] [[Color Edit @ K-13]] “It seems you are at the end of your plateau phase now, Jake. Your heartbeat’s cadence is very elevated. As is your core temperature. My sensors can discern the increase of the contraction of the muscles at the base of your penis. Also on the digits currently inserted in your rectum. Your breathing pattern is one I could easily correlate with panic. Are you panicked, Jake. You shouldn’t be.” It tastes like metal, far from cold on his tongue by now, but smooth, soft against the muscle. That doesn’t prevent it from moving though, enthusiastically slicking the metal digits that keep thrusting between his lips - perfect in sync and number to the one’s stretching him. He can almost hear the wet sounds in the midst of his lonely ragged breaths, of his own heart beat echoing in his ears. The slurping sound around metal makes him blush further, but it is nothing due to embarrassment now: he is too far gone to be properly ashamed. Maybe later. “Your vocalizations are becoming more urgent, Jake. Out of control. Can you control them Jake, I am so very curious. Your seminal fluid keeps leaking profusely. Is it a desirable feeling, Jake. Should I go faster.” But now, as the synthesized voice spouts weirdly clinical terms and observations, so close to his ear, he can’t do much but pant and slurp and moan in such an utterly honest and primal way he barely recognizes his own voice. His hazed mind clings to the robotic version of Dirk’s voice, void of inflection - and still so very alluring, in ways he doesn’t even want - is able - to dwell on. His cock pulses, his hips kept still by unyielding hands, he can’t move, he can’t thrust into the robotic hand that strokes his cock, he can’t push back and down into pistoning fingers. He can’t move his head without the stinging on his scalp, he can’t swallow the saliva that keeps flooding his mouth. He’s trapped in a metal cage of an embrace, totally at the mercy of the robotic representation of his best bro, and he just can’t doesn’t want to think. He can’t do anything else but feel and pulse, pant and twitch. Grunt and moan. So he does. “I will take the rumbling modulation of your voice as a yes then.” ohhh wow this is really awesome!! *w* ahhh your coloring is always so great and the little fics just make it so much more enticing -- source link
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