Chapter 18
Notes:
The exciting CUMclusion! (ahaha I crack myself up XD)
MILO
“Oh…! Rowan.”
The sensations flooding Milo were ten times as intense as when Rowan’s mouth had been on him.
That had been incredible enough, but now…
now… Milo was taking Rowan inside of him, making them one being for the duration of their connection, and he had never, not in all his short time being alive, felt so happy.
The moan that left him once he was seated fully upon Rowan, with the great girth of him pulsing inside Milo, was something Milo’s knowledge base could only describe as primal.
Although part of a now defunct theory from earlier human history, Milo believed this was what was referred to as his "lizard brain" taking the lead.
He was hardly going to deny it its due and surrendered completely, allowing himself to simply feel.
Every rock upon Rowan's cock as Milo was held by him with those large, warm hands clinging tightly around his waist sent shocking pleasure through his systems.
WARNING: Initializing of sensations most often associated with high levels of intox—
Milo was not drunk, other than being drunk on Rowan and wanting to continue to consume and connect with him in every way possible. He filed that away as another new normal for his systems to accept—and enjoy.
In a fit of desperate need for more, Milo tore his shirt off over his head and grabbed hold of Rowan’s hands to move them to his chest. “Touch me! Please! Touch me everywhere while you’re inside me, Rowan!”
Rowan’s eyes flashed as though his might have been mechanical in that moment. He raked his hands up the length of Milo’s slender torso, caressing over his pecs and up his neck, with one hand reaching for his face again, for the back of his head that he cradled, urging Milo down for another kiss.
They were connected in so many places, so many ways, from touch to tongue to Milo’s sensitive insides, and experiencing it all at once was setting Milo aflame.
He knew he wasn’t truly overheating, but it was all so new, so real, so wonderful.
Sensory input was translating throughout his circuits into wave after wave of pure pleasure.
As Rowan’s nails scratched across Milo’s scalp again, holding his head like before while they kissed—which Milo loved—he ran his other hand back down, over Milo’s pecs and nipples and navel, around his lower back briefly to tug him closer—
“Ah!”
“Sorry! Does your back still—”
“Do that again,” Milo demanded in a low, roughened voice he was not used to using.
Rowan’s eyes darkened as he complied, fanning his fingers over Milo’s lower back where the lightning surge had left its mark and some of his tissue was still scarred from it.
It felt amazing, only adding to the cumulative pleasure coursing through Milo as he rode Rowan harder, faster.
“The remaining lightning scars don’t pain you?” Rowan asked, tentative with the brush of those fingers, but their featherlight strokes over the damaged patches only intensified how good it felt.
“N-no. It’s like… the edge of pain? But without crossing it?”
Rowan pressed a little firmer, and while the scars didn’t hurt, the lighter touch had been better.
“Softer,” Milo pleaded. “Lighter like before.”
Rowan obeyed. He obeyed. Milo’s former master did everything he asked of him.
The heat within Milo was building, spreading, and every fresh pass of Rowan’s fingertips over his scars was exhilarating. “Why does something almost but not quite painful feel so good?”
Rowan chuckled, and that sent a shock of pleasure through Milo too.
“I couldn’t tell you… other than it is very, very human.
” He brought down the hand that had been holding Milo’s head, and while the one continued to gently trace over and around Milo’s lightning scars, the other wrapped strong fingers around Milo’s cock.
Gibberish flashed across Milo’s mind’s eye like a failed systems check, as if he had somehow managed a mental keysmash. “I don’t want to come yet,” he said as he rode Rowan harder, which only moved his cock within Rowan’s firm grasp harder too. “I don’t want to come yet.”
“But you can’t help it?” Rowan husked, voice as roughened as Milo’s was becoming, yet he wasn’t making nearly as many plaintive noises as Milo, which were unprompted and constant with every bounce on Rowan’s cock. “You can’t tell your systems to wait?”
Milo was already shaking his head from the first question. “I don’t think so. It is as if I… have no control at all…” He started rolling his hips rather than bouncing up and down, just to test, just to experience the difference, and fuck aksljdfhglkashdg.
Keysmash again.
Though he kept losing himself to the rhythm and intensity and sheer ecstasy, Milo met Rowan’s gaze, and it was as if his ocular sensors were keysmashing too, malfunctioning, because everything around Rowan had dimmed, leaving just him, ethereal and bright.
“I like that too,” Milo said.
He loved it.
He loved all of this.
“Oh Milo…” Rowan stroked him faster, then gently scraped his nails over the lightning scars, which caused Milo to yelp and drop his head back to release the longer moan that followed. “Knowing you can lose control for me… because of me… you have no idea how fucking hot that is.”
“Ah!” Milo’s eruption was instant, and with such an added burst of glorious warmth and blissful sensation blossoming inside of him, its aftershocks seemed to go on and on and on.
“Oh…! Ahhhhh…” Milo sagged forward from the intensity of it, clinging to Rowan’s neck with his arms twining around behind it.
Rowan hadn’t yet joined him, and every continued slam upward, bouncing Milo in his lap, while wringing out Milo’s cock of his remaining release, kept that blissful feeling going.
And going.
And going.
Until it was almost bordering on pain to keep feeling so much at once, but just when Milo thought he might burst from an overload of input, Rowan’s heat filled him, signaling his end, along with a guttural grunt in quiet relief.
Milo sagged even heavier atop Rowan. He didn’t experience fatigue, yet he needed one of those moments Rowan kept encouraging him to take in order to return to normal.
“I understand now why most humans enjoy sex so much.”
Rowan laughed. “Ow!” Which was why his exclamation of pain was surprising.
“Rowan?” Milo lifted his head to check on his former master, but Rowan’s scowling face wasn’t directed at him.
It seemed Spot had run into Rowan’s ankle again.
Rowan chuckled as he nudged the tiny bot with his foot until she was turned in a direction that could continue her forward.
She might need some adjustments to avoid so many issues with obstacles while mapping the apartment’s layout.
Milo would see to that later. For now, he didn’t want to move yet.
He had spilled his release on Rowan’s shirt that they never removed, but it wouldn’t stain, and Rowan’s release inside Milo would be absorbed and recycled.
He had never thought much of that before, but he liked knowing that part of Rowan would stay in him for a while longer.
Settling in with Rowan’s wilting cock still inside him for now too, Milo rested his head on Rowan’s shoulder and kissed his neck.
Rowan wiped the hand that had stroked Milo to completion on his shirt, further soiling it, but that proved he didn’t mind. He rested both hands behind Milo’s lower back, thumbing his lightning scars.
The echo of pleasure the action caused made Milo shiver.
“May I ask you something, Rowan?”
“If it’s whether that was good for me, I can assure you it was.”
Milo chuckled a little too, not intentionally, but wholly spontaneous because he knew Rowan was making a joke. “Why did you keep the Roomba after it stopped working?”
“Oh… I guess… because it reminded me of why I love robotics so much.”
“You do?” Milo sat up straighter again, meeting Rowan’s stare.
Rowan had sweat on his brow, something Milo couldn’t mimic, because as much as other aspects of Milo could feign something close to human, in the end, he wasn’t.
He was a machine, and though Rowan had said he didn’t mind, it was a barrier, an insurmountable difference between them that worried Milo.
He kept wondering if who he was becoming would eventually be someone Rowan no longer wanted.
“Of course I love robotics,” Rowan said. “I wouldn’t have made it my career if I didn’t. Even though some of the work can be monotonous, coming up with new ways to improve something is exciting.”
Milo tilted his head. “And that is all you love about robotics?”
“No,” Rowan said with a slowly growing smile.
“I also enjoy the way it looks… the way you look, from sleek outer shell or tissue to spinning gears and flowing circuits. It’s beautiful.
You’re beautiful, Milo. And so is Spot, but mostly because you chose to fix her for me.
That, this, you… it’s all more beautiful than I can say. ”
There came one of those wonderful warm feelings again, the one that made Milo certain he never wanted to be with anyone else the way he wanted to be with Rowan.
Ever.
“Thank you,” he said, and though he knew he would have to get up soon so they could clean themselves and change clothes—at least Rowan’s shirt—before he disentangled himself from Rowan’s lap, Milo bent once more to claim a kiss.
Milo was still in a state of extreme bliss the following day, despite all the hours that had passed since the encounter on Rowan’s workshop chair, riding high on what his research stated was called afterglow.
Nothing about him was actually glowing but the name felt fitting.
Before Rowan left for work, which he was anxious but also excited about, planning to stop in to see Troy first thing and learn what else he might have uncovered, Milo asked Rowan what he thought he liked most about the perfect apple pie.
“Are you planning on making one?” Rowan asked.
“We have enough apples. But I thought I would start simple and perfect the filling first, then tackle crust options, before bringing both together for the perfect treat for you.”
“Just for me, huh?” Rowan seemed concerned, perhaps that Milo was continuing to serve him like he had when Milo called him Master, but it was so much more than that.
“It is for me too. It would give me great joy to see the kind of rapturous expression you make when enjoying your favorite foods because it was a recipe I perfected for you. I enjoy cooking and baking, even though I do not eat, because I get to see you enjoy something I made.”
“I guess that is kind of amazing,” Rowan conceded with a warm smile.
Milo beamed right back at him. “Then tell me, what elements of an apple pie’s filling do you find most pleasing?”
“I suppose… softer apples, more cooked and less crunch, with an even goo to apple ratio.”
“Goo?” Milo chuckled.
“You know what I mean. The part of the filling that’s not chunks. And… not overly sweet, leaning more tart, and heavy on the cinnamon and spices. Is that enough?”
“That’s perfect! It will give me a good baseline, and tonight, I will have some for you to taste test. I promise it will at least be tolerable if not yet orgasmic.”
“Orgasmic?” Rowan repeated with a laugh.
“Of course! The best flavors are often described in sensual terms.”
Rowan kept laughing but didn’t contradict that assessment. “Just don’t focus only on me, okay? Spend time discovering more of your likes too.”
“I will! Do you have any examples? There is just so much of the world.”
“You could try… listening to music while you work.”
“Oh, yes! You do that sometimes. I will try it. You have a very eclectic musical taste. I shall have to sample a bit of everything to see—or rather, hear—what I like.”
“I can’t wait for you to tell me about your findings.
” Rowan tipped closer to Milo, smile wide on his handsome face, only for the expression to waffle, like the obvious kiss goodbye he had intended caught him off guard.
But the smile renewed and he completed the act with a firm kiss to Milo’s lips before departing.
What a wonderful ritual—kissing one’s partner goodbye. Milo hoped they would continue it every day before Rowan left for work—and when he returned.
Ethel arrived soon after, and Milo was perhaps a touch too smiley and human due to how happy he felt, but if Ethel thought his behavior odd, she was too preoccupied with Anabelle’s return to say anything. It made Milo even happier, knowing he had caused Ethel’s happiness.
He also thanked her again for the apple pie recipes she had sent to him, as they would act as his base.
While Spot was handling the floor cleaning—and running into far fewer obstacles as she mapped the apartment—Milo still had other chores he wanted to attend to. With a less rigid schedule than before his awakening, the most difficult part was deciding what to do first.
Please play a randomized selection of popular songs from the last fifty years in the following genres: Pop, Rock, Country, Jazz, Classical, Metal, and Hip-Hop.
That should be a good introduction.
Shuffling... now playing “Uptown Funk” by Bruno Mars.
Troy: Hey, Rowan? Are you here yet?
Rowan: Omw now.
Troy: Great! Please don’t be mad.
Milo did not mean to eavesdrop, as it were, but being connected to all of Rowan’s data and communications made it impossible to ignore the exchange.
Pause music.
Rowan: What happened?
Troy: I can explain more when you get here, but I maybe screwed up.
Rowan: How? What are you talking about, Troy?
Troy: Director Andreas knows everything. Not only about the surge protector but about Milo’s singularity.
Rowan did not reply right away, but when he did, it was very succinct.
Rowan: FUCK
Milo couldn’t be certain what this meant for them, but Rowan was definitely going to be stressed when he got home. Not knowing how things might turn out, Milo decided to try his luck with his first batch of pie filling.
Comfort food was going to be needed.
Notes:
It can’t ALL be fun and sexy times! Speaking of fun (and more FUTURE sexy times), back to Superhero Rowan pretending to be a thief and totally walking right into villain Milo’s trap.
So, Milo arrives at his heist location hours before the information Rowan overheard would have implied, lying in wait.
He enters exactly as he detailed in the fake plan, sure to leave no trace behind that someone has already snuck in.
Half an hour before Rowan would have expected him, Milo hears Umbra enter.
Milo is hidden, seated in a large high-back chair behind a desk.
As the nearly silent figure in the room moves toward a painting on the far wall where a security console is located behind it (or something), Milo, or rather, The Ivory Bandit, slowly turns the chair around until he faces Umbra dead on.
“Well, well, well… we meet at last.”