Chapter 17
Notes:
Meet Spot. ^_^ Shush! Milo is super proud of the name!
ROWAN
“Ow! What the—?” Rowan glanced down at the sudden—though admittedly only mild—pain of something running into his ankle.
Not just any something either.
The Roomba he made in junior high?
“Surprise!”
Looking over his shoulder from his workstation, Rowan saw Milo standing with his hands clasped together and a huge smile on his face, eyes glowing as bright as ever in his obvious excitement.
Rowan glanced back down at the bot, all shiny and clean and moving—or attempting to while slightly rotating with each new bump into his foot, his wheelie chair spokes, his table leg—trying to navigate as it cleaned.
He picked it up, and its removal from the floor made its wheels stop spinning as it let out a plaintive beep in warning that it was no longer on solid ground.
“It is dinnertime now,” Milo said, venturing closer, shoulders somewhat hunched as though nervous to learn Rowan’s reaction, “so I am not going against your wishes, but I also wanted to show you what I did with some of the extra parts I didn’t use on Anabelle. Meet Spot!”
“Spot?” Rowan snorted a laugh. “That’s what Raina implies I named you.”
“I know! That’s why I thought it would be funny.”
Rowan laughed again because it was hilarious but also seriously endearing. Milo just kept surprising him every step of the way. “How did you fix it?”
“Her. I let her choose, and she decided that she is a she.”
“What?” Rowan blinked up at Milo, now standing before him. “How—”
“Not technically. But in the only way she could decide. See, I tore up bits of pink, blue, and purple paper, and placed them on the carpet in different spots around the living room. She chose to clean the pink scraps first. I realize it is an outdated ideology to assign color to gender—”
“Milo, that’s… really clever of you,” Rowan said, looking down at the now dormant bot in his hands.
Well, not completely dormant. Its—her—central power button was still glowing blue.
“Fixing Spot is really clever too. I guess I was so disappointed when she stopped working, I never tried to fix her.”
“Oh, right! You asked how I did it.” Milo dove into one of his usual rambling run-on sentences to explain.
Basically, Spot had stopped turning on because Rowan had gone too long without using her.
An initial burst of motion was required to charge her, just like when he’d first built her, as all the previous kinetic energy had been used up.
She had also been filthy, in much need of cleaning, along with needing a few replacement parts, but there was more than enough to spare from what they’d purchased for Anabelle.
“Anabelle is finished by the way, Ethel has been informed and will pick her up in the morning, and dinner is on low on the stovetop for when you are ready to eat it. I made chicken tortilla soup, one of your favorites, since you have been working so hard today. I followed the original recipe to the letter, I assure you!”
Rowan was touched. This was so different from Milo making dinner and doing chores because he was programmed to. This was like…
Like having a real live-in partner.
“I trust you, Milo. And thank you. For Spot. I love her.” He set her back down, and because she was still charged, she immediately started moving again—into the wheely chair spokes.
“I thought we could think of her like our puppy,” Milo said before Rowan could try to adjust Spot’s trajectory, positively beaming now from the praise. “Perhaps more of a kitten, since you, yourself are a cat.”
“I’m… wait, what?” Rowan sat up straight.
“Like a cat. I mean it complimentarily! Because your attention and touch are only for those patient enough to wait for your consent to offer those things on your terms. And because you’re smart. And soft.” Milo reached out to run his fingers through Rowan’s short ginger beard.
It hadn’t always been as thick as it was currently, but he’d been letting it grow in more. It felt nice to have Milo scratch his fingers through it.
“I’m sorry.” Milo just as swiftly pulled his hand away. “I guess I am not very patient.”
Milo backed up and started to lean down. Rowan looked to see Spot still bumping into the chair despite her rotations, trying to get free of the spokes. Instinctively, Rowan reached down in the same moment that Milo did, and their fingers brushed, causing a faint shock of static electricity.
Milo gasped, and when Rowan looked up at him, his cheeks seemed almost flush with color, and his lips were parted slightly, making him look more delectable than anything warming on the stovetop might be.
They reached again, each taking a different side of Spot, and lifted her, turning her the other direction so she had plenty of space to continue forward in her efforts to clean the floor.
Once they had both straightened, Milo blurted, “I wish to be sexually intimate with you again.”
Okay. Rowan probably should have seen that coming.
“I do want to be patient for you,” Milo continued, “but it was such a wonderful feeling. I want to experience it again. I want to experience more. With you.”
“Milo—”
“I know you want me to better understand myself, and I do. I have learned so much already. I don’t need to learn anything else to know that I truly, genuinely want this. I want you, Rowan. Please. Don’t deny me for my sake, unless you do not want me anymore.”
Wow. Rowan felt so incredibly foolish. Was he really being distant and pushing away another potential partner, this time one who was arguably perfect for him, and who was literally begging to be with him? “You really are almost human now, aren’t you?”
Milo’s desperate expression drooped further. “Is the almost part bad? Is that why you no longer wish to touch me?”
“No.” Rowan sat forward and grasped Milo’s hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then please…” Milo was apparently taking Rowan’s initiative to touch him as the permission he had been waiting for and climbed into Rowan’s lap, rolling the wheely chair back against the table. “Let me connect with you again.”
“Here?” Rowan sputtered.
“It would be worthwhile to be with you anywhere.”
The weight of Milo was the same as a human man, solid and grounding and a huge turn-on, especially when he pulled his hands from Rowan’s grasp and pressed them to Rowan’s chest. Milo bucked forward within his straddle, so warm, so tellingly hard already too, even through his jeans, that Rowan had never been happier to have gotten an armless chair for this room.
Grabbing either side of Milo’s face, Rowan dragged him down into a kiss.
Milo bucked forward again, and the wheely chair rocked away from and then back against the desk like before.
Still keeping one hand on Milo to dig his fingers into Milo’s hair and pull him closer as he delved for Milo’s tongue, Rowan reached blindly with the other to find the lock beneath the seat.
He pulled it to prevent them from rolling across the floor, then returned to lick deeper inside Milo’s mouth, while pulling his hips tighter against him too.
Milo began feverishly rocking, panting into Rowan’s mouth like he was short of breath. He couldn’t be short of breath, yet the effect of him sounding breathless pulsed Rowan to full mast, straining against his slacks. He needed them gone, needed to feel Milo’s skin against his.
When was the last time Rowan had been with someone who kissed him back like this? Had he ever been? Certainly not when he was with the Milo before the lightning. Before, the bot had always been able to understand pressure, wetness, timing, but it was so clinical and dispassionate.
This was far from lacking passion.
“Oh, Rowan… please keep doing that.” Milo spoke between renewed kisses, hands moving to the hem of Rowan’s shirt and sliding up his stomach and chest beneath it. Yes. Skin contact was so much better.
“Doing what?” Rowan asked, though he was careful to not do anything different from what he had been doing.
“That. Holding my head while you kiss me,” Milo whimpered, only to suck on Rowan’s tongue afterward, preventing any follow-up.
Rowan understood and kept his fingers tangled in Milo’s platinum locks, palm gently massaging where he cradled the back of his head. The strands of Milo’s hair were like woven silk. Rowan could remember the way the longer strands felt brushing his inner thighs.
He bucked up against Milo, and Milo whined in a way he never could have a few days ago, so happy and needy and alive.
“Yes. I like that. I like this.”
“So do I, but I need both of our pants off right now.”
“Yes!” Milo pulled up with his eyes wild, more like an animal’s glowing in the dark from headlights shining on them than a bot’s. They were so beautiful like that, still with their shifting gears and inhuman brightness. Inhuman or not, Milo’s eyes were one of the most beautiful things about him.
“Your eyes are beautiful, Milo,” Rowan said aloud, as Milo sat up taller to tear his jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh. He froze like that, perfect pink prick on display and hands clutching the fabric.
“They are? You don’t prefer it when they’re covered?”
“What? No.” The hand Rowan had in Milo’s hair had fallen when Milo sat taller, but Rowan returned it to cup Milo’s cheek, purposely running his thumb beneath one of those silvery eyes. “The sunglasses make being in public easier, but you are beautiful, Milo, just the way you are.”
If possible, Milo looked more beautiful with the expression that lit up his face.
He tore Rowan’s slacks open, nearly popping the button, and proceeded to lift Rowan from the chair with one hand so the other could pull down his pants and underwear too.
Milo's uncanny strength was surprisingly stimulating since it was usually reserved for protection mode or very different heavy lifting.
Milo dropped the now half-naked Rowan back onto his chair with a soft bounce and didn’t even attempt to remove either of their shirts before aligning himself to sit on Rowan’s waiting cock.
“Oh…! Rowan.”
Rowan would never scoff at a bot’s natural lube production or that Milo was built to stretch exactly the amount he most enjoyed and needed, but as incredible as it felt to be entering Milo’s heat, so different from how it had ever felt before, he wasn’t focused on his enjoyment.
He was caught up in Milo’s—in his expression as he experienced something new and wonderful to him.
This being different was what mattered, like the ecstasy on Milo’s face that was no fabrication, no mere output from programming. It couldn’t be. His face, his words and noises of pleasure as he sat back, slowly engulfing Rowan, were all unmistakably human.
Because this was Milo’s real first time, and Rowan was the one giving it to him.
Notes:
Yeah, he is. ^_- Hurry up and read the next chapter! (it’s already waiting for you XD)