39. Epilogue Volt #3
And he knew that Wallace was passionate about making sure that it was used appropriately.
“I already used it to offer a cash settlement. The defendant probably thinks he can milk more out of the judge, but he’s going to get less of a payout while the spark could get heavier restrictions.
The spark knows that we’ll be using the fund to set her up with a new job, so please thank your baby for that.
The whole thing just burns me up sometimes.
” They sighed dramatically. “Sorry. Done with work talk now.”
Rashid traced Justice’s brow, soothing away the wrinkles. “Babe, do you want a drink?” He wasn’t talking about an actual drink, of course, but a short-term mod designed to mimic its relaxing and mind-blurring effects—except without the hangover.
They huffed. “I want a sub.”
“Not in the mood you’re in right now,” Rashid commented lightly. “We can go to the club this weekend.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that…” Ben piped up with glee. “A little bit of existential rage can do a lot for a scene.”
Justice turned their head, looking absolutely predatory. “Are you volunteering?”
Oliver chuckled. “Ben, I’m counting punishments. Stop tormenting Justice. He absolutely is not volunteering.”
Ben pouted. “No group scenes? Three D-types all for me?”
Justice flopped back. “Now you’re just being cruel.”
Oliver’s next words came as a surprise to Volt, though only because the topic hadn’t come up before. “We might actually be up for some group play at some point. We’d need to discuss it first, though, before my brat starts offering his services to all and sundry.”
Rashid’s eyes sought one of the cameras on the ceiling. “Thank you, Oliver. We might take you up on it. But yes, we’d want to discuss it first, too. Our top priority would be protecting your dynamic.”
“Man…” Ben whined. “Why does everyone have to be so responsible? My pale ass is right here, and it’s not getting any redder!”
Everybody laughed, including Justice, as Ben had probably intended. He could be a prickly brat, but he was also funny and, in his own weird way, he looked after the people he cared about.
It was one of the many things that Volt loved about hanging out with their crew of queer, mostly spark-human couples.
He loved how kink was woven so casually into their lives that Wallace never thought twice about calling him Daddy or crawling into his lap.
He loved how Wallace had two big “sisters” who could mentor him on makeup and all the other ins and outs of navigating the world as a fem person with a masculine body.
He loved the chats he sometimes had with Oliver about the challenges of being a 24/7 Dom, and he definitely needed the occasional reminder that he was doing a good job of taking care of his creampuff.
Volt never, ever wanted to experience a takeover mod again, but he sometimes thought that it had been worth it to meet the friends who had so warmly embraced him and Wallace.
They had found their people.
“I didn’t say that Justice had to be responsible,” Rashid joked. “I think you really might enjoy a drink tonight, darling.”
Justice smiled up at him, a little more relaxed already. “If I have one, I’m gonna have more and end up plastered,” they warned.
“Go ahead, love. Get as drunk as you want.”
Justice closed their eyes for a moment, and Volt watched the tension in their body slowly ease. “Whoa… God, I forgot what that was like.”
Unlike real alcohol, “drink” mods often hit immediately. Volt had only tried them a few times, and he hated the sensation of being out of control and not having immediate access to all of his facilities. He couldn’t imagine trying one now, after the horror of the takeover mod.
But he was looking forward to seeing Justice tipsy. They could eviscerate someone with an argument, their sharp mind running rings around a competitor, and he knew that they had a sadistic streak as a Dominant. But they were also a bit of a wild card, often going along with Ben’s quirky ideas.
Volt wished that the couple could find a permanent sub of their own.
He knew that they played frequently at the club where Ben had met them, but Rashid had revealed to him one day that they were looking for a permanent third.
Apparently their last one had been over four decades ago, and they hadn’t found anyone since then to replace her.
“Oliver?” Justice asked, “Why isn’t Ben’s ass red?”
Volt couldn’t hold back a laugh. He’d been right. Justice was going to be a hilarious drunk.
“Yeah, Sir. Why isn’t my ass red?” Ben echoed.
Oliver sighed in mock-disappointment. “Well, now we know what your punishment isn’t going to be.”
“Punishment?” Quincy asked, breaking into the conversation as he scooped Evan into his lap and took a seat. Nobody batted an eye at the manhandling. “Why’s Ben getting punished?”
Quincy, for all that he was Evan’s Dom, was still delightfully naive about some things. If the two of them played with punishments, it was definitely in the just-for-fun, only-in-the-bedroom kind of way.
“I’ve got a list,” Oliver said. “Ben knows.”
Ben cackled. “You think I keep track of that stuff?” Oh, he was really asking for it tonight. A serverbot appeared by his arm, offering him a beer that he must have requested through his phone.
“I think that’s your last beer tonight if you want to play,” Oliver countered.
“But Justice is getting wasted! I’m just keeping them company.”
Volt’s arms were suddenly full of a very snuggly creampuff. “I think I’m wasted too, Daddy!” Wallace giggled. “Quincy’s drink was too yummy.”
Volt turned to Quincy. “How much alcohol was in that thing?”
“Two point three servings. I’m sorry, Volt. I didn’t think he would drink it so fast.”
“I only drank half of it,” Wallace protested.
Ah, that was fine, then. Wallace didn’t drink often, so he was a lightweight.
“Do you think I can have a dr— Ooh! Are these for me?” Quincy had spotted the flowers where Evan had set them on a side table.
“They are, love.” Evan turned and gave them to him. “From Volt.”
“So pretty!” Quincy cooed, inspecting them from every direction.
It looked like he had forgotten about the “drink”, and Volt didn’t feel the need to remind him. “Maybe we should move on to dinner?” he suggested.
With only Ben, Evan, and Wallace needing to eat, that mostly meant that they transitioned to the dining room table for everyone to praise the aesthetics of whatever Quincy had cooked up for them that night.
As had become their tradition, there was a tiny, elegantly displayed plate with a nibble of each food set for each of the sparks, including one beside Oliver’s table camera.
Tonight, Quincy informed them, there were braised chili-marmalade duck legs with Brussels sprouts, a cheesy polenta with wild mushrooms, and an arugula salad with oranges, fennel, and goat cheese.
Volt took a sniff and made sure to catch Quincy’s eye as he gave a hum of enjoyment.
He could eat the food if he wanted to, but that just meant cleaning the decaying debris out of a small canister that he’d have to eject from his chest. He often didn’t bother, but sometimes for Quincy’s food, it was worth the effort.
Wallace had assured him that it was like eating at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
Wallace took a bite and outright moaned, making Volt’s cock a little uncomfortable in his jeans until he ordered it to go down. “God, Quincy. This is amazing. This duck is… How did you even do this?”
Quincy beamed. “Thank you, Wallace. I started by salting the duck and letting it rest for eight hours to tenderize it, then I browned…”
Evan patted Quincy’s hand, then wove their fingers together with a subtle tilt of his head. He was a quiet guy, often content to listen in a bigger group, but very tuned in to his partner.
“Ohhh…. Was that a rhetorical question?” Quincy asked brightly.
“It was,” Wallace conceded. “But I’d still love to hear about it if you want to tell me.”
Something warm swelled in Volt’s chest, watching Wallace interact with the others. His pansy had been convinced for so long that he was terrible with people. That he wasn’t worthy of friendship. Now everyone could see the sweetheart he was inside shining through.
“Oh, no. I don’t need to tell you about it.” As always, Quincy was happy to bounce along with any changes that came up. “I want to hear about the nursebots! Oooh! And the audition. Tell me everything!”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Wallace and Volt, but it was Ben who answered.
“We’re further ahead on the nursebots than I expected to be, even though we’re still looking for manufacturers for some of the major components.
Wallace has been a kick-ass project director.
That shit bores the fuck out of me, but Wallace here is the one who’s going to get the cost down so that everyone can buy them. ”
Wallace blushed, stuttering over his words at Ben’s praise. “Uh, thank you? It-it-it was nothing. Just, uh, boring shit that I l-like to do. You guys have done almost all of the design work. And Rashid has taken care of all of the legal aspects and contracts.”
Before Volt could say anything about accepting compliments, Oliver responded with what sounded like his Dom voice.
“Wallace, you should accept that compliment. You had a vision for a product that will make a huge difference in people’s lives and you’re the reason that we’re going to come out with a better, cheaper nursebot than anything that Orbit can offer. You, Wallace. You’re the reason.”
Volt squeezed Wallace’s hand. Fuck, was he proud of his creampuff.
“Uh, thank you, Oliver. I, um, it means a lot to me working with both of you.”
“Good girl,” Volt whispered into Wallace’s ear. “You’re definitely getting a reward tonight.” Then, unable to stand it another minute, he scooped Wallace up from his chair—eliciting Wallace’s signature eep!—and sank into it himself. His pansy could eat just as well from his lap.
“He’s cute when he blushes,” Justice purred. Apparently they were a flirty drunk.