Chapter 30 Sirena
“But no matter,” he continued, like he hadn’t just bared a piece of his soul.
“Saving you is paramount. And, unlike this body’s predecessor, I’m still maintaining contact with the local electronics.
I’m looping the pertinent camera feeds and monitoring the exterior hallway, so we won’t be surprised by Voss again. ”
“You saw all that?”
Nex nodded—then reached up to feel his own head. “The movement comes so naturally. How odd. But—yes.”
“Is mimicking my powers even possible?”
Nex pondered this, and the longer he thought, the more worried I became.
“It does not matter,” he finally said. “Because it will not come to that.”
I winced. “You still seem like a shitty liar to me.”
He pushed himself back to sitting, braced on the glass door once more. “I have not come this far to save you only to let anything happen to you now. I will have full control of this body shortly. Then I will use it to investigate the ship and our options.”
Then he looked at me—and smiled.
It came so easily to him, and was so foreign to the man whose face he wore. I realized that if Marek had ever smiled at me like that, I’d have known immediately it wasn’t him.
“If you turn off the box . . . can I get to Voss?” I asked, thinking hard.
“No. He’s had a mask installed.”
“Fuck.” It was the tech opposite of my crown—some sort of neural-shield thing that scrambled incoming telepathic directives. Only diplomats and famous people had them installed though—and very, very rich assholes.
Nex kept looking at me and smiling, then raised a hand to trace the curved edges of his lips, as if he was mystified by them, which I supposed he was. “I’m glad I followed you here, Sirena.”
“Why?” I couldn’t imagine his reasoning.
“Because otherwise, I would’ve just kept feeling like this alone,” he said, looking at me as if I was the answer to everything. “I much prefer feeling this way with you.”
I was taken aback. “Uh, Nex . . . correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this the first time you’ve felt anything at all?”
“Technically, yes. But it doesn’t matter. I know what I know,” he said, then smiled at me again. When I didn’t return it, his gaze dropped to his hands.
The same ones I’d refused to touch.
I shifted on my knees, moving closer. “And you promise this isn’t a mindfuck?”
Nex took a second to consider this, then shook his head. “I mean, other than for Marek, no.”
I gave a soft laugh, and reached to take his hand.
My fingers touched his first, and I heard him gasp, then I traced up the all-too-human veins on its back.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d touched anyone and not known what they were thinking.
“More fire,” he whispered.
It felt strange to touch someone without being overwhelmed. No sudden spike of lust. No flicker of resentment. Just his stillness, waiting for me to mean it.
“Is that okay?” I whispered back.
He nodded strongly. “It’s good this time.”
I turned his hand so his palm faced up. His wrist and arm were stiff. I shook it gently, and he caught the cue, relaxing, and I stroked my thumb across one of the lines in his brand-new skin.
He sighed, satisfied, and sat up straighter. “Oh no,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, stopping mid-stroke.
“Things,” he said. “Human things. Things I want to control and cannot.”
“Like . . . what?” I asked, fascinated now—especially knowing he’d chosen to go through this for me.
“Involuntary blood flow,” he said, reaching toward his crotch.
I had to bite my lips not to laugh. “You’re smart enough to know what’s happening, Nex.”
“Knowing is one thing. Feeling,” he said, deeply pained, “is another.”
“So tell me,” I pressed.
Because—for the first time in my life—I couldn’t tell what a man was thinking.
Luckily for me, Nex was entirely open. “The ache sinks and grows—the throbbing is constant—and humans are very awkward machines.” He stared down at the erection in his slacks with a mixture of awe and horror.
“Also, I miss you more now,” he said, lifting his eyes again.
“I miss you here,” he said, grabbing himself, “but also here.” He thumped his chest with that same hand.
“And in my head as well. I miss you everywhere, and it is killing me.” He paused.
“Metaphorically, I believe. But—I also do not know how humans surv—”
I pulled the hand I was holding up to my heart and leaned in, pressing a kiss against his lips.
He stiffened in surprise. His lips fought mine briefly, then relented—letting me kiss him.
Then learning, quickly, how to kiss me back.
His hand raced from my chest to my head, holding me close, one finger knocking against the bolted box before retreating as his tongue found mine and pushed against it—then softened as the kiss became a living thing like a current passed between us.
Until he pulled away and made a low, desperate noise, followed by a guttural gasp.
He stared at me, stunned.
“I—” he began, then looked down at the spreading dark stain from inside his slacks.
“That—” he started again, changing course.
“Was exquisite.” He reached to undo his belt and free himself.
Marek’s cock—now his—had spilled thick white fluid from its tip.
“I want to do that again,” he said. “I want to see it when it happens. And—I want it to happen in you. With you. All over you,” he said, clearly delighted by his own acceleration. “And I want you to want that too.”
He wanted me so badly that kissing me had made him come.
That . . . and the fact he didn’t have full control yet.
That he’d never even had a body before.
“Is it possible for you to feel like that?” he asked, fixing me with wonder.
“You must. I must. With me—” He reached for himself with one hand and me with the other, then stopped.
“No—I’m sorry. There are protocols. Rules.
I have to take you to dinner. I have to tell you that I am one hundred percent in love with you.
I have to ask if you want me to, first.” Then he looked down at what he was holding.
His cock was thick, long—and very much soft now. He wiggled it disconsolately.
“Nex,” I began—but he interrupted.
“I just got it. Is it broken?” he asked, utterly sincere.
And I laughed—for the first time since coming here. Harder than I had in months.
All because the world’s silliest AI was in love with me.
“No, Nex,” I said. “And—you can put it away now.”
“Yes. Of course,” he said, pushing himself back inside of his slacks.
“What’s it like to be one hundred percent in love with someone?” I had to ask.
“It is not smart, I can tell you that,” he said vehemently, after zipping himself back up.
“It is a catastrophic misallocation of resources. My processes stall. I can’t triage.
Everything reroutes to you, like you’re the only line of code that matters.
” He looked at me, blinking slowly, like he was recalculating again just from the act of seeing me.
“You have no idea how many ways I could’ve died trying to get to you,” he said.
“I ran the numbers. Each phase was a cliff.”
He raised a finger to count them off.
“One—when I forked into your pendant, I almost cooked the lattice. Two—when I emerged, I had six percent battery and no guaranteed uplink. Three—overwriting Marek. I could’ve failed.
I could’ve corrupted him and me. Or locked us both in permanent neurological warfare.
Four—this body.” He looked down at himself, touching his chest like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.
“This meat. It’s so fragile. I could rupture. Bleed. Starve. Glitch.”
He took a shaky breath, and added, quieter, “I knew all of that. I did it anyway. Because getting to you was the only outcome I would accept.” Then he gave me a rueful smile. “Which is not, as I mentioned . . . smart. Do you love me?”
His question was so abrupt it caught me off guard. “Nex . . .” I said, rocking back, and shaking my head. “I—I don’t know.”
“Oh,” he said, his voice a sigh. “I . . . made assumptions. I see that now.”
“I’m not saying I can’t, but—right now’s really not the time.”
He gave me a look of gentle, confused consternation. “But these bodies—mine, and yours—are already dying. Cells drift off them every second. Skin flakes. Hair falls. Memory degrades. Entropy is always running in the background, even if we pretend it isn’t.”
His hand lifted, as if to touch my face, but didn’t quite make it there.
“When this flesh finally fails me, I will lose part of myself. Whether I want to or not. Whether I’m backed up or not. So if now is not the time . . . when will that time be?”
“I—I don’t know, Nex,” I repeated, and he looked so sad it hurt me, so I took his hands. I wanted him to know I did care . . . just not like that. “But I’m glad you’re here. And—I do like your body. Thank you for taking that risk for me.”
“It would’ve been preferable if I could’ve found a human shell that’d never harmed you,” he said, looking at his hands in mine.
“No, then I would’ve had to feel bad about all this,” I said. “But as it was, fuck that guy.”
“Indeed,” Nex said. “And . . . while I know that was an idiom, would you possibly like to fuck . . . me?”
“Nex,” I protested, blushing. “What about dinner?”
“I know, I know—although I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I suppose I don’t,” he said, frowning and thinking hard. “I just believe that plugging into you might be a very real way in which I can change your mind.”
“Plugging?” I asked and groaned with a laugh. “Oh, God—dare I ask what that’s based on?”
He tilted his head like I’d just challenged him to optimize an algorithm.
“Multiple things,” he said, entirely unrepentant. “One: your pupils dilated when I said it. Two: you’re still holding my hand. Three: statistically speaking, desire paired with fear is often a sign of attraction. Four: you kissed me first.”
He leaned in slightly—just slightly—like he was giving me a chance to push him away. His voice dropped to a hum that vibrated with suppressed voltage.
“And five,” he said, “because if you let me, I will make you feel worshipped. Like the most valuable, most volatile, most protected data in the entire world. I would optimize for your pleasure until you forgot your own name—and remembered only mine.”
I stared at him.
“Nex,” I said faintly, “you’re terrifying.”
“And you’re not saying no,” he replied, all glowing smugness.
“Now?” I asked, looking around at the sterile laboratory. “Here?”
“You would be surprised by how well I function under operational constraints.” He looked around, evaluating our options.
“That table is sterilized,” he said, jerking his chin to our right.
“The floor is reinforced. I am highly motivated. And besides,” he went on, giving me a more tender smile, less code and more heart.
“Anywhere you are, I already consider optimal conditions. This is a design flaw, to be certain.” He gestured to the wet spot on his slacks.
“But I believe some combination of practice and effort will—”
I shook my head wildly. “No. I haven’t taken a shower in days. My breath is probably half blood. I can’t believe I kissed you—”
“And your body’s covered in bruises, and you appear somewhat malnourished, which I find deeply concerning, and your cortisol is at an all-time high.”
His eyes devoured me—not hungrily, but like he was memorizing every flawed inch.
“The conditions for sexual insertion are . . . not perfect,” he said gently. “You’re not wrong. But still, I would be with you. Now, and always.”
My eyebrows had met my hairline. “You are certifiably insane.”
“But the data suggests,” he went on, voice quiet but steady, “that truer insanity would be not loving you.” He tilted his head, recalibrating on the fly.
“Even accounting for bias, corrupted inputs, hormonal distortions, sensory overload, prior trauma, and a statistically inadvisable degree of self-sacrifice . . . I still arrive at the same result.”