Realistic Chapter 5
Title: Realistic - Chapter Five
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: lisabellex Thank you for undertaking this project. My gratitude knows no bounds!
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
Thursday comes with a mix of anticipation and dread. Orlando is due to arrive home-something Elijah has actually found himself anticipating; but there is also the matter of his appointment at the Company-something he has long been conditioned to dread.
There is no phone call. Orlando had told him that he would not be able to call while in-flight. It is a matter of bad timing, but even so he wishes he could hear Orlando’s voice and get some reassurance.
When the car arrives to pick him up, Elijah hesitates before the control panel. He doesn’t want to go. It’s not a trick, he reassures himself as he presses the button to open the gate. He knows that it is completely illogical to believe that this is a ploy, a ruse to get him to return to the Company without incident. Why would Orlando have bothered to let him stay for four days, only to return him?
The sensible, reasonable part of him knows this is highly unlikely so, when the driver pulls to a stop in the drive, Elijah obediently opens the door.
*
Elijah studies his reflection in the mirror-like glass of the Company’s public entrance. It dawns on him then, as they slide open silently, that this is the first time he has ever entered through the main doors as something other than product.
It’s just for that extra bit of programming, he reminds himself as he enters the cool, dim interior.
He finds a familiar face at the reception desk: Kari, the intern from the auction.
“I remember you,” she says with a bright grin. “You’re Bloom’s Realistic. Lucky you.” She waggles her brows and then seems to remember the camera positioned just above the reception desk. She startles and he watches, fascinated, as her demeanor changes, becoming less friendly and more professional as she settles in her seat. “Your purpose for being here today is …?”
“An upgrade,” he answers, resting his fingertips on the pristine counter that acts as a barrier between the reception area and her desk.
“I need your U-code.”
Obediently, he supplies it. “It’s not supposed to take very long.”
He presses his lips together so he won’t say any more, as the little glance she spares him tells him that it’s of no particular concern to her, one way or another. She has no idea that he’s afraid, and even if she did he wonders whether she would care, or believe it.
The sound of a receiver being lifted from the cradle distracts him slightly from his panic and he watches her for that reason alone. He notices the way she rests her thumb on the ‘call’ button as she dials, pressing only four digits. It must be an internal extension- the lab, he surmises-but she obviously doesn’t want anyone to pick up.
Finally she cradles it with an audible ‘tsk’. “Looks like I’ll have to take you up myself.” She rises from her seat and opens the door built into the counter. “Come with me.”
He follows her down the hall to a bank of elevators, the whisper-soft sound of their shoes on the carpet the only sound until they are out of the camera’s range.
“So, what’s he like?”
Elijah looks at her questioningly. “Who?”
She makes that ‘tsking’ noise again. “Orlando, of course. Is he a nice guy or a prick? Oh, don’t worry,” she says when he doesn’t respond, “I won’t betray any confidences.” She gives him a little I’ll-keep-this-just-between-us look. “I can’t, they’d fire my ass and they pay me way too much to answer the phones.”
Elijah doesn’t doubt that she’s bound by confidentiality agreements, but that doesn’t make him want to confide in her.
“I’m just curious!” She protests as if he’s scolded her. “Did he tell you not to talk to anyone?”
“No.” The only thing Orlando told him to do was wait, but he doesn’t tell her that.
“So, tell me, what he’s like?” Her tone is less light-curiosity, and more insistent as she presses the button for the elevator. “Is he a perv or what?”
Elijah shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t think so’?” She seems bemused by his response.
“I don’t know. I don’t know him.”
The doors whisper open and she rests her hand against the edge to prevent them from closing, but doesn’t step inside. “What do you mean you don’t know him?”
“He’s been gone for the most part. He had business. I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”
He watches irritation, anger, disbelief cycle across her face before she takes a deep breath, musters a polite look and ushers him into the elevator. The rest of their journey together is conducted in silence, and Elijah is grateful.
*
The lab is quiet. Bill is the only one in the office. Elijah wonders where Dom is, whether he was fired for his appearance at the auction, but he doesn’t dare ask.
Billy orders him to sit on the little stool in front of the computer, the one with the tropical fish screensaver, and hands him a sheet of paper containing an itemized list of foods: bananas, chips, chocolate …
“Just check a couple of the boxes so we can get started, okay?” Bill instructs absently, handing over a pen.
Elijah looks at the paper again. “What is it?”
“Just check a couple of boxes. Whatever looks good,” comes the distracted reply.
“But… what’s it for?”
Billy sighs wearily, and Elijah can tell he’s irritated. Apparently he’s very good at irritating people today. In the interest of not being irksome, he returns his attention to the list and tries to make sense of what it might mean for him.
The sound of a drawer slamming shut makes Elijah look up. He smiles as Dom’s head pops above the island of cabinets at the back of the room.
“It’s for the program, Elijah,” Dom explains, shooting Bill a rather cross look, as he dusts his knees off with one hand. “Geez, you could’ve explained it to him.”
Bill doesn’t respond verbally, but it’s easy to see that Dom is good at annoying others, too.
“Whatever you select from the list is what you’ll have cravings for, just like a real -“
Person, Elijah finishes Dom’s statement silently and returns Dom’s apologetic smile.
“What does a craving feel like?” He would never ask that question of Bill, but he knows Dom will answer. He’s familiar with the definition of the word, and the concept - David had craved tomatoes - but he wonders what it feels like.
Elijah glances at the list and notices that tomatoes do not make an appearance. David had a little garden just for the tomato plants; Elijah smiles at the memories, David in the garden with the sun in his hair, David eating his fresh tomato sandwiches over the sink, the juice running down his chin.
“Ah, well…” Dom stammers.
Billy stops fiddling with the computer, folds his arms, and looks Dom expectantly. It is not a look of confidence.
Dom attempts again, muttering more ‘ahs’ and ‘ums’ before smiling sheepishly. “It’s really hard to explain, sorry.”
“Does it hurt?” Elijah wonders.
Dom laughs. “It kind of can, if you don’t get what you want, that is. It can make you crazy at the very least,” Dom confesses. “I guess… it’s kind of like… a libido for your taste buds.”
Billy snickers derisively. “Now, that is an interesting comparison.”
Dom sends a wounded look Billy’s way, but Elijah smiles with understanding. He has been programmed to want sex, to have urges. True, most of it comes in response to subtle, or unsubtle as the case may be, cues from his owner, but there have been things that have provoked desire in him for no discernable reason.
Like David fresh from the shower, just a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water still on his skin. He had always been unable to resist the pull of it. It had seemed so random, but he should have known it was programmed into him. He wonders now, did he check boxes for that from a list once, too, or did someone do it for him?
Billy shrugs and throws up his hands. “You brought this on yourself. Had you left well and good alone you wouldn’t be wasting time trying to explain it.”
“It’s not a waste of time,” Dom argues.
“So,” Elijah interjects softly before Billy can open his mouth and add fuel to the fire, “it’s like a pull?”
“Pull?” Dom echoes, brow wrinkling.
Elijah smiles apologetically. He doesn’t know a better way to describe it. He just knows it feels like drawing sensation, like a string tied tightly around some invisible part inside of him, which creates an ache that he feels until it is satisfied.
“Yeah, I guess you could say it’s like that,” Dom agrees finally with a lopsided grin. “Chocolate and potato chips are very good choices. Most popular, probably.”
“Is that what you crave?” Elijah asks as he checks the boxes Dom suggested.
“Oh, yeah. The chips more than anything. Chips and beer, but I know beer isn’t on that list.” Dom takes the paper from Elijah’s outstretched hand and hands it to Bill.
Bill barely spares it a glance, making two quick keystrokes before sliding toward him on the little rolling stool, the porting-needle in his hand.
“Your ‘stomach’ isn’t very big,” Bill explains with a clinical indifference. “You can eat a couple of ounces of food every four hours or so. This… shit!” Bill wheels back to the desk and rifles through some booklets on the desk, he discards several before finding the one he wants, he returns with a glossy booklet and hands it over when he slides back. “This is important. This will explain everything to your owner, but, listen, if you eat too much you run the risk of the contents leaking out, if that happens you could fuck up your internals for good, and I don’t think your owner would appreciate that. There’s information in here on how to get rid of the waste, make sure you read it.”
Elijah nods, he will read the book later, and perhaps next time he can try eating himself into termination.
Billy tilts Elijah’s head down and inserts the needle, it hurts, as always, but Elijah doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Aren’t you going to -“ Dom begins, and Billy quickly cuts him off.
“I’m going to do it while the program is running, don’t worry.”
Elijah looks to Dom for an explanation but he can’t ask, not once he notices the hurt look Dom is trying to hide. After a deep breath and a faint nod the look vanishes.
“Bill is going to scan your internals, make sure everything is connected properly. Mistakes have happened in production before, rare, but it happens.”
Both the scan and the program change take little time, not even thirty minutes and then the fear he’d felt that they wouldn’t let him go evaporates, as Bill pulls the tether and releases him, and he’s actually free to leave.
He is almost through the door when Bill calls for him to stop. He almost bolts, except, of course, he can’t disobey.
“You need an escort. Let me just call security.”
“I can walk him out,” Dom suggests. “Time for lunch anyway.”
Billy nods and moves his hand away from the phone. “See you in a bit, then.”
“That wasn’t too bad, right?” Dom asks as make for the elevators.
“It was fine,” Elijah agrees.
“I’ve been wondering how you’re doing,” Dom smiles at him.
“You have?”
“Yes. I just … I want to make sure you’re being taken care of.”
“I don’t need much, so yes.”
The doors of the elevator open and they step inside, Dom says nothing as they descend and Elijah wonders if that’s because he has no more to say or because of the cameras.
“He’s good to you?” Dom asks softly. So it was the cameras.
Elijah smiles, Dom’s query is genuine at least. “Yes.”
Once more they lapse into silence, save for the greeting Dom gives Kari as they pass by her desk.
Outside the sun is shining, though the darkened glass at the entrance mutes it. Through the doors Elijah can see the throngs of people out to enjoy it, and the car at the curb, the driver leaning against the hood smoking a cigarette.
He feels Dom’s hand on his shoulder, and he stops just before the door.
“How are you, really?” Dom’s grey eyes probe his, searching for something.
“I’m … hungry,” Elijah replies with a smile and steps into the sunlight.
*
When he arrives back at the house, Orlando is, as promised, home. Elijah finds him in the dining room, and he greets Elijah with a shy, happy smile, which Elijah is quick to return.
“Hi.” Orlando’s voice is soft, like a purr. Elijah feels that ‘pull’ as Orlando steps closer, reaching for his hand.
Elijah desperately wants to touch Orlando, to hold him close, but he still doesn’t know the boundaries and he doesn’t want to mess this up. “Hello.”
“Everything went all right today?”
Elijah nods. Orlando’s skin is warm beneath his fingertips.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you.”
“It’s fine.”
“I should have gone to get you but … I brought you some things.” Orlando steps aside and reveals the laden table. There is a veritable smorgasbord of goodies spread out on its surface: pizza, chips, huge red strawberries with a bowl of whipped cream… They all look very good, but it is the chocolate cake, a huge and multilayered thing, that effects that pull. His mouth is watering. It’s so very strange.
“Just a few of my favorites,” Orlando grins, “and some others I thought you might like to try.”
“I’m glad you’re back.” Elijah squeezes Orlando’s hand. He wants to touch more than Orlando’s hand.
“Me too,” Orlando agrees softly. Another tug on his hand brings them closer still and he feels the press of Orlando’s lips at the corner of his mouth. It’s not enough and Orlando pulls away far too soon, leaving him to wonder once more at the nature of their relationship.
“Sit,” Orlando enjoins eagerly, pushing out one of the elegant chairs.
Elijah sits and looks over the goodies. “I can’t eat all this.”
“I know.” Orlando grins. It is the sweetest, most bedazzling smile Elijah has ever seen. “I don’t expect you to. Whatever we don’t eat will keep.”
He watches Orlando select a bright red berry from the bowl and take a small bite from the tip. Orlando doesn’t stop smiling but there is a mix of apology and slyness in Orlando’s eyes. “I wanted to make sure that it’s sweet for you.”
“Aren’t they always?” He has always associated strawberries with the word sweet, though he has only a vague idea of what ‘sweet’ means.
“Sometimes they aren’t, it happens sometimes,” Orlando explains, “but this one is very sweet.”
Orlando swirls it in the cream and offers it to him. When he tries to take it with his hand Orlando draws it away.
“With your mouth,” Orlando husks. “Please?”
Elijah looks up at Orlando through his lashes. There is a hunger of a different sort in Orlando’s eyes and, while he may not have experience with food cravings, Elijah is well acquainted with this other. He likes this look on Orlando.
He nods and, when the berry is offered once more, leans forward to take an experimental bite. There is an immediate explosion of sweet upon his tongue and the juice floods his mouth in a way that is both unexpected and utterly delightful.
“You have to chew,” Orlando reminds with a gentle laugh.
Elijah nods, blushing. He remembers reading that in the booklet, but he’d been so surprised the instructions had slipped his mind. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes after swallowing.
“What?” Orlando looks both shocked and hurt. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I forgot what I was supposed to do.”
Orlando shakes his head, his face serious. “It doesn’t matter, not to me.” Then brightening. “Did you like it?”
Elijah nods.
“Good. Now we’ll make it even better.” Orlando swirls the berry in thick white whipped cream and holds it out.
“Better? How can that be?”
“Trust me.”
Elijah takes another bite, a smile spreading across his lips.
“I was right,” Orlando proclaims, as he dips what little remains and finishes it off.
‘You were,” Elijah concedes.
“More berries? Or would you like to try something else?”
Elijah eyes the cake. He hears Orlando chuckle softly and watches as a huge slice, more than he will ever be able to eat, is cut and plated.
“This?” Orlando sets the plate before him with a flourish.
Elijah nods, smiles as Orlando breaks off a bit with his fingers, proffering it much as he did the berry.
“Not proper manners, I know,” Orlando says in a soft, apologetic tone. “Perhaps you’d rather I use a fork?”
Elijah reaches out and stays Orlando’s hand; he gets the cake, but most of the frosting sticks to Orlando’s fingers. He looks at it longingly, but leaves it, still uncertain of what is acceptable and what is not.
“Did you know that some people think chocolate is as good as an orgasm?” Orlando asks, licking the left-behind frosting from his fingers.
Elijah thoughtfully lets the sweet cake melt on his tongue. He definitely likes it, but he doesn’t think he would ever equate it with an orgasm. “I have heard that, but I can’t say I understand it.”
Orlando chuckles as he offers another bite. Once more the frosting sticks to Orlando’s fingers. “Sorry, I’ll get a fork. The frosting is the best part.”
Elijah stops Orlando as he did before and sucks the even sweeter chocolate away. He can feel Orlando’s fingers twitch slightly under his tongue.
“It’s very good,” Elijah says as he lets go of Orlando’s wrist and sits back, nervously. Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that. “Would you say it’s as good as an orgasm?”
“No,” Orlando answers readily.
“But it must be so for some? Otherwise they wouldn’t say it?” Elijah muses in his ever desperate bid to understand what it must be like to be human.
“I’m sure,” Orlando smiles. “It’s all … chemical reactions in the brain, or perhaps they’ve just never had good sex.”
Elijah smiles. He doesn’t have chemical reactions, which must must explain why he thinks the chocolate is good, but not as good as an orgasm.
Elijah studies Orlando. He watches as Orli breaks off another piece of cake and wonders what this is… is Orlando being coy? Shy?
“Do you want me?” Elijah blurts the question he has been afraid to ask. But he needs to know, once and for all. He’s not used to a relationship that’s so unstructured. “Or am I to be your Personal Assistant, like you told Max?” It is just that all of the others were so immediate about it, could barely wait to get him home, except for Thomas, and he only waited until Madeline was occupied by something else.
The smile leaves Orlando’s face and Elijah waits.
“I didn’t buy you as a sex toy, Elijah,” Orlando says softly, feeding himself the bit of cake.
“Oh.” He didn’t expect this. Not Orlando’s reaction, but his own. Perhaps - maybe he has been programmed to want to be used, even if he is given the opportunity for something else. He has never faced a situation like this before and he doesn’t know what to do with the other craving. He stares at Orlando’s reflection in the polished table top.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want you.” Orlando’s voice is whisper soft. “I don’t - I don’t know what The Company programs you to think you’re designed for, but I want you to decide what you want, and when you want it.”
Elijah watches as Orlando pops another bite of cake into his mouth. He watches the flex of Orlando’s jaw, watches as Orlando swallows and then pauses to lick the merest bit of chocolate from his lip. What you want, and when you want it.
Elijah slides neatly from his chair to Orlando’s, until he is kneeling on the surface, straddling Orlando’s thighs.
“Eli-“
Elijah cuts off Orlando’s protest, desperate to feel that shock again; Orlando’s lips don’t disappoint. Elijah explores Orlando’s mouth, chases the taste of chocolate on Orlando’s tongue, there is no way he would trade chocolate for the spangles of heat in his belly.
“You said I could decide,” he says when he finally breaks their kiss.
Orlando cups his face, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheeks. “I did, but I wish I knew if it’s what you really want.”
“It is,” Elijah murmurs against Orlando’s lips before delving in to kiss away the doubt. Orlando’s kiss is still hesitant, and his hands remain on the arms of the chair, not the reaction Elijah had expected. “Don’t you believe me?”
“But … you’re programmed. I just …” Orlando appears at a loss.
“It’s not just that. I swear it.” Elijah wishes he could explain how he knows but he can’t, not yet, probably not ever. “You’ve been good to me -“
“See? You only want to repay me.”
“I wasn’t finished yet,” Elijah scolds, feeling a heady sense of freedom for the first time … ever. “I like your face. I like the way your lips feel against mine. I want … more. Is that wrong?”
Orlando’s reply is a fierce kiss and the touch he’s been craving. Orlando’s hands are strong and sure, skating up his thigh and over his chest.
“Just promise you’ll never lie to me,” Orlando whispers in his ear.
“I promise.” It spills so easily from his lips, so honestly.
Elijah rises up on his knees, his erection making sitting uncomfortable, and he feels Orlando’s knuckles graze his stomach as they work to undo the fly of his jeans. Orli’s other hand sweeps under his shirt, along his spine and Elijah bends like a cat seeking both touches.
His technology is seamless, he doesn’t have to process the sensation to deliver a reaction; when Orlando’s fingers curl around his freed cock his hips thrust forward, all action and reaction.
“Will you take me to bed?” Elijah asks, he tells himself it doesn’t matter if Orlando prefers the chair, or the table, or the floor, but a bed just seems to mean a little more. That he is worth a little more.
Orlando’s brows knit, those dark eyes full of uncertainty again.
“It’s what I want.” Elijah bends, kissing Orlando with his eyes open, watching as those brown eyes close and he rocks into Orli’s hand until there is no doubt what he wishes.
Orlando abruptly scoots to the edge of the chair, and lifts him effortlessly. Elijah means to slide down, surely he’s too heavy but Orlando’s hands stop him, pushing along his ass and thighs until he willingly wraps his legs around Orlando’s waist. Orli’s teeth nip gently at his jaw and Elijah shivers at the gentle drag of teeth, the scent of Orli’s skin.
“Wait!” Elijah cries, twisting to reach for the small bowl of whipped cream. He feels Orlando moan softly against his shoulder as his ass grinds against Orlando’s erection and Elijah smiles at the very vocal “fuck” Orlando hisses as he rights himself, purposefully causing even more friction.
“What’s that for?”
“I thought …” Elijah stops. He shouldn’t push things. Orlando says he wants what Elijah wants, but that may only go as far as saying the words, not actually meaning them. There’s a huge difference. “Should I put it back?”
“I just asked what it was for,” Orlando says softly.
“It’s for you,” Elijah explains with a devious smile, “and me.”
Orlando’s smile sparkles almost as much as his eyes. “Sounds like fun. So, are we ready now?” Orlando puffs.
“I can walk,” Elijah protests.
“No. I like you like this.” Elijah squirms as Orlando squeezes his cheeks and bucks against him for delirious moment. “Besides, it’s not that far.”
Elijah, not one to deny, lets Orlando carry him upstairs.
“Careful,” he warns, precipitating Orlando’s desire to drop him to the neatly made bed. He wouldn’t mind, it wouldn’t hurt, but he doesn’t want the confection he’s stolen from the table to make a mess.
“What? Oh.” Orlando grins and moves them near the nightstand. “We could have wait -“
Elijah silences Orlando with two cream-coated fingers, smearing the confection onto Orlando’s lips as he slithers down Elijah’s body. He kisses and licks the sweet away while Orlando struggles to get them both naked, only stopping when Orlando tugs up the hem of his shirt.
“You really love the cream, don’t you?” Orlando says softly.
“And the way you kiss me.” There is such desire in Orlando’s kiss. Like David’s, once, and he feels so wanted.
He warns himself not to think such things, or carry such hopes, even as Orlando deftly tips him onto the bed, skinning his jeans and boxers off quickly. He can want sex with Orlando all he wants, but nothing more.
He scrambles to his knees, more than aware of Orlando’s gaze. He hopes he is pleasing, but he doesn’t ask. In his experience, owners rarely keep their opinions to themselves. He is, after all, nothing more than merchandise to them.
“You’re not shy, are you?” Elijah asks, dropping his eyes to Orlando’s boxers.
“No,” Orlando grins easily, “just distracted.”
Elijah heats under such pretty words, the boxers join the tangle of clothes on the floor, and it’s readily apparent that Orlando has nothing to be shy about.
“I’m distracting?” Elijah asks coyly as he reaches for Orli with one hand and the cream with the other.
He feels Orlando’s light touch on his arm, fingers ghosting over his skin.
“You are so distracting. So per-fuck. That’s cold,” Orlando gasps.
Elijah smiles a wicked smile as he lifts his fingers to lick them clean, purposefully leaving a trail of sticky white sweet along Orlando’s stomach. “I’ve made a mess of you.”
“Messes can be fun.” Orlando joins him on the bed, pressing their bodies flush, making dessert of them both. Elijah can feel the slick, silky slide of cream between them, feel the hard line of Orlando’s cock, and the tip as it pokes against his belly.
“Making them, or cleaning them up?” Elijah tries not to cling as Orlando pulls away. He likes the banter, but he knows the drill. He folds to the bed and waits for Orlando to tell him how he wants it. Some of them were very particular. But there is only the feel of Orlando’s tongue against his skin, licking away the rapidly melting trail of melting cream.
“Both.” Elijah smiles. Orlando’s lips tickle. “I like both.”
Elijah threads his fingers into Orlando’s hair and closes his eyes, relishing it. He feels Orlando’s tongue dip into his carefully crafted navel, Orlando’s hands on his artificial hips, and no one would recognize what he was if they didn’t know already, and there are times, like now, when he feels so alive.
He expects Orlando to stop where the trail of sweet ends, but Orli’s mouth closes over the head of his cock instead. He doesn’t bother to stifle the little sound of pleasure he makes; if Orlando doesn’t wish him to make noise then he is sure Orlando will tell him.
But he would hate to be silenced when Orli’s mouth feels so good. This is a rare favor, one he likes very much.
Orlando’s mouth slides slowly at first, slicking his cock with long, slow pulls, increasing bit by bit in both speed and pressure, until there’s a white-hot heat ablaze inside him, in his balls, in his belly and every particle of what he is. He is suddenly, surprisingly, there.
“Orlando - I - Stop!” He pushes desperately at Orlando’s forehead, only to find his hand covered and pinned to the bedding.
“Want you to, ‘Lij,” Orlando tells him. Orlando’s hand never stops moving, nor his body with it. “It’s alright. Let go.”
Orlando’s mouth slips around him once more, sucking hard and oh, so eagerly and he is just unwilling to fight it any more. He closes his eyes, digs his fingers into the bedding and comes deliriously into Orlando’s mouth.
“All right?” Orlando asks softly, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh.
Elijah smiles, as much in response to the question, as the sweetness of Orlando’s lips. He finds it ironic that the ones who were cruelest never asked.
“Yes,” he answers honestly. He has never been brought off so expertly, or so early. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” The bed shifts under Orlando’s weight. “It was my pleasure.”
Elijah opens his eyes and watches Orlando move over him. He turns his palms up to feel the silky glide of Orlando’s warm skin.
“I don’t think so, but it will be,” Elijah promises as he drags his finger down to touch the sticky sweet that has all but melted into Orlando’s skin. He pushes himself up with one hand and laves the dessert from Orlando’s belly, running his free hand along the smooth arch of Orlando’s hip, over the fine curve of Orlando’s ass.
He takes his time because Orlando doesn’t rush him. There are fingers in his hair but they demand noting; he can feel the hard length of Orlando’s cock against his cheek as he works his way down but Orlando doesn’t try to force him there, just submits to his wicked neglect.
“You smell like sugar,” Elijah murmurs as he nuzzles the dark, wiry curls at the base of Orlando’s cock.
“Elijah …”
He can hear the strain in Orlando’s voice. “Yes?”
“Nothing.”
Elijah looks up, catches the glitter in Orlando’s eyes, the sweet smile lurking at the corner of Orlando’s mouth, and if he wasn’t touching Orlando right now he might doubt his existence.
“What is it?” Orlando asks.
It is Elijah’s turn to answer, “nothing.”
“You don’t have to if -“
Elijah licks Orlando to silence, tasting the bitter-sweet of the precome and whipped cream mingled together at the tip of Orlando’s cock. He slowly drags his tongue around the head, relishing the velvety feel of Orlando’s skin, before swallowing Orlando as deeply as he can in one eager move.
Above him, Orlando gasps and he can feel the tremor in Orli’s thigh; it excites him to know that he’s responsible for it and he wants more. He wants Orlando to lose control, he wants to do to Orlando what Orlando did to him.
He sucks deeper, harder, while pushing his hand down to cup Orlando’s balls; working hard to find the perfect rhythm, the perfect pressure, because he only wants to please.
“Lijah, stop.”
Elijah feels Orli’s hand on his forehead, physically stopping him. He looks up in utter confusion as Orlando steps back.
“But it’s what I want,” Elijah protests. He doesn’t understand.
Orlando smiles and kisses him. “All you want?”
“What?” Elijah asks.
“Is this all you want? If it is, then I’d never deny you.”
Elijah sits back on his heels, confused. “But?”
Orlando flinches. “Nothing.”
Elijah smiles, Orlando is lying. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me what you want.”
“That’s the thing …” Orlando looks as if he is about to confess a grave secret, “I didn’t want this to be about what I want,” Orlando reaches out and cups his cheek, “but I did that anyway, didn’t I?”
“Not really,” Elijah counters softly, “you still haven’t said what you want.” He moves to the very edge of the bed, until he’s leaning against Orlando.
“It’s okay to say it,” he urges when Orlando looks reluctant. “It would be all right if it’s mutual, wouldn’t it?”
“I want to be inside you,” Orlando whispers in his ear, fingers grasping him tightly.
“And I want you to fuck me.” He has never had to utter those words to another living soul, not and mean it, but he does. He is trembling with want and it is real this time, not contrived, not for the benefit of another’s pleasure. He has said them because he wants to, because he wants what Orlando wants.
“You’re -“
“I am.”
“But -“
Elijah silences Orlando with a burning kiss and another warning. “Don’t think.”
“Don’t think,” Orlando echoes with a firm nod. “Right. I just -”
Elijah nips Orli’s lips in warning. “No -“
“- lube.” Orlando’s breath catches as Elijah gives his cock a squeeze.
“Oh.” Elijah grins bemusedly as Orlando ravages the bedside drawer.
After a moment or two of digging, Orlando produces the tube and, with a sweet little smile of victory, knees his way onto the bed.
Elijah slides to the bedding, lying on his back, taking in the view as Orlando rubs the lube on his cock. Impatiently, he hooks one leg over Orli’s hip, trying to drag Orli closer, but he is met with resistance. He feels a jolt of fear run through him. What if Orlando is having second thoughts? What if Orlando’s concern is a front for having realized that a male Realistic isn’t what he wanted after all? It wouldn’t be the first time he was purchased out of curiosity, but he thought Orlando was different.
But Orlando’s reaction doesn’t support that theory. “Orli?”
“I’m sorry, I just …” Orlando looks at him like he is the most fragile thing in the entire universe. “You’re sure you want this? Want me?”
“Yes.” Elijah honestly believes that he does, to dwell on it more would result in useless strings of circular reasoning. He reaches for Orlando’s shoulders, pulls him close so that he can brush his lips against Orli’s. “I want you. I want this.” He slips his hand between their bodies and grips Orli’s cock. “I want you. I want this.”
“You didn’t want to … until I said …”
Elijah listens to Orlando stutter as he rubs the head of Orlando’s cock against his hole, purposefully eroding Orlando’s self-control, making it impossible for Orli to do anything other than push. The sensation of being opened and filled is always intense, sometimes painful if it’s too rough, but Orlando is careful, even in his need.
Orlando looms over him, dark and beautiful. Elijah takes the image with him as he closes his eyes to revel in the heat of Orlando’s skin, the tender slip and slide of lips against his, as Orli begins to thrust.
Orli’s mouth moves to his neck, his shoulders, bestowing soft kisses that feel like worship. He arches into it, knowing that when the novelty wears off this sweetness will too.
He runs his hands over Orlando’s body, mapping the supple skin, the shape of Orlando’s shoulder blades, the gentle curve of his spine, the sweet curve of his ass. He palms each cheek and squeezes, forcing Orlando deeper; Orlando moans against his neck.
“You’re going to make me come,” Orlando warns, nuzzling just below his ear.
“I should hope,” Elijah grins. He turns his head, exposing his neck, hoping to invite Orlando’s tongue; it works and he shivers beneath the delicate licks and graze of teeth.
“Is this… Is it good for you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Elijah knows Orlando must be aware of the hard cock pressed between their bodies. He drags his hands slowly up Orlando’s back and pushes his fingers into the tousled locks, pulling Orlando down for a kiss.
“A little,” Orlando grins.
“Good.” Elijah sucks Orlando’s lower lip, rocking his hips until Orlando responds in kind. It feels so good, so right, Orlando fucking him for both their pleasure. The rub of Orlando’s belly against his cock is infuriating, but far from enough; he worms one hand between their bodies and grips his cock.
“Ah, Lijah, fuck,” Orlando mumbles against his skin. Elijah can feel the telltale stutter of Orli’s hips, the shake in his thighs, the desperate, failing bid for self-control. Elijah works his own cock frantically, he’s so close, so very close… He stops jerking himself off abruptly, the need for release suddenly so urgent that it makes him squirm, but he waits for Orlando. His owner’s pleasure is paramount.
He opens his mouth, ready to plead for Orlando to hurry, but he’s coming before he can beg, unable to articulate anything, vaguely registering that Orlando is shivering with him.
Orlando slumps against him, spent and twitching. Elijah presses his face against Orli’s shoulder, relishing the weight and warmth of Orlando’s body. He likes this, likes being wrapped in Orlando’s arms, but eventually Orlando rolls off him, and Elijah waits to be told to leave the bed, knowing that most of the others sent him away after.
“Come on, under the covers.” Orli’s voice sounds blurry, sleepy.
Elijah can’t help but smile happily. He was hoping, he was so hoping…
Orlando makes room for him under the covers, opens his arms and reels him in.
“How long?” Elijah asks as he snuggles next to Orlando’s body. “Or… would you rather I leave after a certain point in time?”
“How long what?” Orlando asks, tucking the blankets around them both.
“How long do you want me to sleep?”
“You sleep?”
Elijah smiles. They never really read the manual and they always react the same way.
“Technically, no. Not like you. I can put myself in stasis. I can set an internal clock for as many hours or minutes as you’d like.”
He feels Orlando’s fingers comb through his hair. “Do you dream?”
The question catches him off-guard. “No,” he answers softly, trying his best to keep the tinge of disappointment from his voice, “not like you.” He has always been curious, always wondered what it must be like to experience a real dream, not a nightmare but something strange and wonderful, something he has no control over, like a happy future.
He dreams, just not when he is in stasis.
“Do you have to set a sleep schedule?” Orlando asks.
Elijah shakes his head. “No, but … you’d have to wake me. If I go into stasis without setting an alarm I won’t wake on my own.” He’s never been entirely comfortable with that idea. “I could go clean up the food,” he suggests.
“No,” Orli mumbles, “leave it.”
“But it will spoil.”
“Don’t care. Want you here.” Orlando gives him a little squeeze.
“You want me to sleep, then?” he asks, but there is no reply, just the sound of Orlando’s shallow, steady respirations. He debates stasis, but only for a moment, he doesn’t like leaving himself vulnerable and Orlando never ordered him to. No, he’s more comfortable staying alert. He lies there, as the shadows creep across the room, dusk succumbing to dark, studying Orlando’s face and ‘dreaming’ his wide-awake dreams of a possible, happy, future.
TBC …
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: lisabellex Thank you for undertaking this project. My gratitude knows no bounds!
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
Thursday comes with a mix of anticipation and dread. Orlando is due to arrive home-something Elijah has actually found himself anticipating; but there is also the matter of his appointment at the Company-something he has long been conditioned to dread.
There is no phone call. Orlando had told him that he would not be able to call while in-flight. It is a matter of bad timing, but even so he wishes he could hear Orlando’s voice and get some reassurance.
When the car arrives to pick him up, Elijah hesitates before the control panel. He doesn’t want to go. It’s not a trick, he reassures himself as he presses the button to open the gate. He knows that it is completely illogical to believe that this is a ploy, a ruse to get him to return to the Company without incident. Why would Orlando have bothered to let him stay for four days, only to return him?
The sensible, reasonable part of him knows this is highly unlikely so, when the driver pulls to a stop in the drive, Elijah obediently opens the door.
*
Elijah studies his reflection in the mirror-like glass of the Company’s public entrance. It dawns on him then, as they slide open silently, that this is the first time he has ever entered through the main doors as something other than product.
It’s just for that extra bit of programming, he reminds himself as he enters the cool, dim interior.
He finds a familiar face at the reception desk: Kari, the intern from the auction.
“I remember you,” she says with a bright grin. “You’re Bloom’s Realistic. Lucky you.” She waggles her brows and then seems to remember the camera positioned just above the reception desk. She startles and he watches, fascinated, as her demeanor changes, becoming less friendly and more professional as she settles in her seat. “Your purpose for being here today is …?”
“An upgrade,” he answers, resting his fingertips on the pristine counter that acts as a barrier between the reception area and her desk.
“I need your U-code.”
Obediently, he supplies it. “It’s not supposed to take very long.”
He presses his lips together so he won’t say any more, as the little glance she spares him tells him that it’s of no particular concern to her, one way or another. She has no idea that he’s afraid, and even if she did he wonders whether she would care, or believe it.
The sound of a receiver being lifted from the cradle distracts him slightly from his panic and he watches her for that reason alone. He notices the way she rests her thumb on the ‘call’ button as she dials, pressing only four digits. It must be an internal extension- the lab, he surmises-but she obviously doesn’t want anyone to pick up.
Finally she cradles it with an audible ‘tsk’. “Looks like I’ll have to take you up myself.” She rises from her seat and opens the door built into the counter. “Come with me.”
He follows her down the hall to a bank of elevators, the whisper-soft sound of their shoes on the carpet the only sound until they are out of the camera’s range.
“So, what’s he like?”
Elijah looks at her questioningly. “Who?”
She makes that ‘tsking’ noise again. “Orlando, of course. Is he a nice guy or a prick? Oh, don’t worry,” she says when he doesn’t respond, “I won’t betray any confidences.” She gives him a little I’ll-keep-this-just-between-us look. “I can’t, they’d fire my ass and they pay me way too much to answer the phones.”
Elijah doesn’t doubt that she’s bound by confidentiality agreements, but that doesn’t make him want to confide in her.
“I’m just curious!” She protests as if he’s scolded her. “Did he tell you not to talk to anyone?”
“No.” The only thing Orlando told him to do was wait, but he doesn’t tell her that.
“So, tell me, what he’s like?” Her tone is less light-curiosity, and more insistent as she presses the button for the elevator. “Is he a perv or what?”
Elijah shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t think so’?” She seems bemused by his response.
“I don’t know. I don’t know him.”
The doors whisper open and she rests her hand against the edge to prevent them from closing, but doesn’t step inside. “What do you mean you don’t know him?”
“He’s been gone for the most part. He had business. I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”
He watches irritation, anger, disbelief cycle across her face before she takes a deep breath, musters a polite look and ushers him into the elevator. The rest of their journey together is conducted in silence, and Elijah is grateful.
*
The lab is quiet. Bill is the only one in the office. Elijah wonders where Dom is, whether he was fired for his appearance at the auction, but he doesn’t dare ask.
Billy orders him to sit on the little stool in front of the computer, the one with the tropical fish screensaver, and hands him a sheet of paper containing an itemized list of foods: bananas, chips, chocolate …
“Just check a couple of the boxes so we can get started, okay?” Bill instructs absently, handing over a pen.
Elijah looks at the paper again. “What is it?”
“Just check a couple of boxes. Whatever looks good,” comes the distracted reply.
“But… what’s it for?”
Billy sighs wearily, and Elijah can tell he’s irritated. Apparently he’s very good at irritating people today. In the interest of not being irksome, he returns his attention to the list and tries to make sense of what it might mean for him.
The sound of a drawer slamming shut makes Elijah look up. He smiles as Dom’s head pops above the island of cabinets at the back of the room.
“It’s for the program, Elijah,” Dom explains, shooting Bill a rather cross look, as he dusts his knees off with one hand. “Geez, you could’ve explained it to him.”
Bill doesn’t respond verbally, but it’s easy to see that Dom is good at annoying others, too.
“Whatever you select from the list is what you’ll have cravings for, just like a real -“
Person, Elijah finishes Dom’s statement silently and returns Dom’s apologetic smile.
“What does a craving feel like?” He would never ask that question of Bill, but he knows Dom will answer. He’s familiar with the definition of the word, and the concept - David had craved tomatoes - but he wonders what it feels like.
Elijah glances at the list and notices that tomatoes do not make an appearance. David had a little garden just for the tomato plants; Elijah smiles at the memories, David in the garden with the sun in his hair, David eating his fresh tomato sandwiches over the sink, the juice running down his chin.
“Ah, well…” Dom stammers.
Billy stops fiddling with the computer, folds his arms, and looks Dom expectantly. It is not a look of confidence.
Dom attempts again, muttering more ‘ahs’ and ‘ums’ before smiling sheepishly. “It’s really hard to explain, sorry.”
“Does it hurt?” Elijah wonders.
Dom laughs. “It kind of can, if you don’t get what you want, that is. It can make you crazy at the very least,” Dom confesses. “I guess… it’s kind of like… a libido for your taste buds.”
Billy snickers derisively. “Now, that is an interesting comparison.”
Dom sends a wounded look Billy’s way, but Elijah smiles with understanding. He has been programmed to want sex, to have urges. True, most of it comes in response to subtle, or unsubtle as the case may be, cues from his owner, but there have been things that have provoked desire in him for no discernable reason.
Like David fresh from the shower, just a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water still on his skin. He had always been unable to resist the pull of it. It had seemed so random, but he should have known it was programmed into him. He wonders now, did he check boxes for that from a list once, too, or did someone do it for him?
Billy shrugs and throws up his hands. “You brought this on yourself. Had you left well and good alone you wouldn’t be wasting time trying to explain it.”
“It’s not a waste of time,” Dom argues.
“So,” Elijah interjects softly before Billy can open his mouth and add fuel to the fire, “it’s like a pull?”
“Pull?” Dom echoes, brow wrinkling.
Elijah smiles apologetically. He doesn’t know a better way to describe it. He just knows it feels like drawing sensation, like a string tied tightly around some invisible part inside of him, which creates an ache that he feels until it is satisfied.
“Yeah, I guess you could say it’s like that,” Dom agrees finally with a lopsided grin. “Chocolate and potato chips are very good choices. Most popular, probably.”
“Is that what you crave?” Elijah asks as he checks the boxes Dom suggested.
“Oh, yeah. The chips more than anything. Chips and beer, but I know beer isn’t on that list.” Dom takes the paper from Elijah’s outstretched hand and hands it to Bill.
Bill barely spares it a glance, making two quick keystrokes before sliding toward him on the little rolling stool, the porting-needle in his hand.
“Your ‘stomach’ isn’t very big,” Bill explains with a clinical indifference. “You can eat a couple of ounces of food every four hours or so. This… shit!” Bill wheels back to the desk and rifles through some booklets on the desk, he discards several before finding the one he wants, he returns with a glossy booklet and hands it over when he slides back. “This is important. This will explain everything to your owner, but, listen, if you eat too much you run the risk of the contents leaking out, if that happens you could fuck up your internals for good, and I don’t think your owner would appreciate that. There’s information in here on how to get rid of the waste, make sure you read it.”
Elijah nods, he will read the book later, and perhaps next time he can try eating himself into termination.
Billy tilts Elijah’s head down and inserts the needle, it hurts, as always, but Elijah doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Aren’t you going to -“ Dom begins, and Billy quickly cuts him off.
“I’m going to do it while the program is running, don’t worry.”
Elijah looks to Dom for an explanation but he can’t ask, not once he notices the hurt look Dom is trying to hide. After a deep breath and a faint nod the look vanishes.
“Bill is going to scan your internals, make sure everything is connected properly. Mistakes have happened in production before, rare, but it happens.”
Both the scan and the program change take little time, not even thirty minutes and then the fear he’d felt that they wouldn’t let him go evaporates, as Bill pulls the tether and releases him, and he’s actually free to leave.
He is almost through the door when Bill calls for him to stop. He almost bolts, except, of course, he can’t disobey.
“You need an escort. Let me just call security.”
“I can walk him out,” Dom suggests. “Time for lunch anyway.”
Billy nods and moves his hand away from the phone. “See you in a bit, then.”
“That wasn’t too bad, right?” Dom asks as make for the elevators.
“It was fine,” Elijah agrees.
“I’ve been wondering how you’re doing,” Dom smiles at him.
“You have?”
“Yes. I just … I want to make sure you’re being taken care of.”
“I don’t need much, so yes.”
The doors of the elevator open and they step inside, Dom says nothing as they descend and Elijah wonders if that’s because he has no more to say or because of the cameras.
“He’s good to you?” Dom asks softly. So it was the cameras.
Elijah smiles, Dom’s query is genuine at least. “Yes.”
Once more they lapse into silence, save for the greeting Dom gives Kari as they pass by her desk.
Outside the sun is shining, though the darkened glass at the entrance mutes it. Through the doors Elijah can see the throngs of people out to enjoy it, and the car at the curb, the driver leaning against the hood smoking a cigarette.
He feels Dom’s hand on his shoulder, and he stops just before the door.
“How are you, really?” Dom’s grey eyes probe his, searching for something.
“I’m … hungry,” Elijah replies with a smile and steps into the sunlight.
*
When he arrives back at the house, Orlando is, as promised, home. Elijah finds him in the dining room, and he greets Elijah with a shy, happy smile, which Elijah is quick to return.
“Hi.” Orlando’s voice is soft, like a purr. Elijah feels that ‘pull’ as Orlando steps closer, reaching for his hand.
Elijah desperately wants to touch Orlando, to hold him close, but he still doesn’t know the boundaries and he doesn’t want to mess this up. “Hello.”
“Everything went all right today?”
Elijah nods. Orlando’s skin is warm beneath his fingertips.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you.”
“It’s fine.”
“I should have gone to get you but … I brought you some things.” Orlando steps aside and reveals the laden table. There is a veritable smorgasbord of goodies spread out on its surface: pizza, chips, huge red strawberries with a bowl of whipped cream… They all look very good, but it is the chocolate cake, a huge and multilayered thing, that effects that pull. His mouth is watering. It’s so very strange.
“Just a few of my favorites,” Orlando grins, “and some others I thought you might like to try.”
“I’m glad you’re back.” Elijah squeezes Orlando’s hand. He wants to touch more than Orlando’s hand.
“Me too,” Orlando agrees softly. Another tug on his hand brings them closer still and he feels the press of Orlando’s lips at the corner of his mouth. It’s not enough and Orlando pulls away far too soon, leaving him to wonder once more at the nature of their relationship.
“Sit,” Orlando enjoins eagerly, pushing out one of the elegant chairs.
Elijah sits and looks over the goodies. “I can’t eat all this.”
“I know.” Orlando grins. It is the sweetest, most bedazzling smile Elijah has ever seen. “I don’t expect you to. Whatever we don’t eat will keep.”
He watches Orlando select a bright red berry from the bowl and take a small bite from the tip. Orlando doesn’t stop smiling but there is a mix of apology and slyness in Orlando’s eyes. “I wanted to make sure that it’s sweet for you.”
“Aren’t they always?” He has always associated strawberries with the word sweet, though he has only a vague idea of what ‘sweet’ means.
“Sometimes they aren’t, it happens sometimes,” Orlando explains, “but this one is very sweet.”
Orlando swirls it in the cream and offers it to him. When he tries to take it with his hand Orlando draws it away.
“With your mouth,” Orlando husks. “Please?”
Elijah looks up at Orlando through his lashes. There is a hunger of a different sort in Orlando’s eyes and, while he may not have experience with food cravings, Elijah is well acquainted with this other. He likes this look on Orlando.
He nods and, when the berry is offered once more, leans forward to take an experimental bite. There is an immediate explosion of sweet upon his tongue and the juice floods his mouth in a way that is both unexpected and utterly delightful.
“You have to chew,” Orlando reminds with a gentle laugh.
Elijah nods, blushing. He remembers reading that in the booklet, but he’d been so surprised the instructions had slipped his mind. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes after swallowing.
“What?” Orlando looks both shocked and hurt. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I forgot what I was supposed to do.”
Orlando shakes his head, his face serious. “It doesn’t matter, not to me.” Then brightening. “Did you like it?”
Elijah nods.
“Good. Now we’ll make it even better.” Orlando swirls the berry in thick white whipped cream and holds it out.
“Better? How can that be?”
“Trust me.”
Elijah takes another bite, a smile spreading across his lips.
“I was right,” Orlando proclaims, as he dips what little remains and finishes it off.
‘You were,” Elijah concedes.
“More berries? Or would you like to try something else?”
Elijah eyes the cake. He hears Orlando chuckle softly and watches as a huge slice, more than he will ever be able to eat, is cut and plated.
“This?” Orlando sets the plate before him with a flourish.
Elijah nods, smiles as Orlando breaks off a bit with his fingers, proffering it much as he did the berry.
“Not proper manners, I know,” Orlando says in a soft, apologetic tone. “Perhaps you’d rather I use a fork?”
Elijah reaches out and stays Orlando’s hand; he gets the cake, but most of the frosting sticks to Orlando’s fingers. He looks at it longingly, but leaves it, still uncertain of what is acceptable and what is not.
“Did you know that some people think chocolate is as good as an orgasm?” Orlando asks, licking the left-behind frosting from his fingers.
Elijah thoughtfully lets the sweet cake melt on his tongue. He definitely likes it, but he doesn’t think he would ever equate it with an orgasm. “I have heard that, but I can’t say I understand it.”
Orlando chuckles as he offers another bite. Once more the frosting sticks to Orlando’s fingers. “Sorry, I’ll get a fork. The frosting is the best part.”
Elijah stops Orlando as he did before and sucks the even sweeter chocolate away. He can feel Orlando’s fingers twitch slightly under his tongue.
“It’s very good,” Elijah says as he lets go of Orlando’s wrist and sits back, nervously. Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that. “Would you say it’s as good as an orgasm?”
“No,” Orlando answers readily.
“But it must be so for some? Otherwise they wouldn’t say it?” Elijah muses in his ever desperate bid to understand what it must be like to be human.
“I’m sure,” Orlando smiles. “It’s all … chemical reactions in the brain, or perhaps they’ve just never had good sex.”
Elijah smiles. He doesn’t have chemical reactions, which must must explain why he thinks the chocolate is good, but not as good as an orgasm.
Elijah studies Orlando. He watches as Orli breaks off another piece of cake and wonders what this is… is Orlando being coy? Shy?
“Do you want me?” Elijah blurts the question he has been afraid to ask. But he needs to know, once and for all. He’s not used to a relationship that’s so unstructured. “Or am I to be your Personal Assistant, like you told Max?” It is just that all of the others were so immediate about it, could barely wait to get him home, except for Thomas, and he only waited until Madeline was occupied by something else.
The smile leaves Orlando’s face and Elijah waits.
“I didn’t buy you as a sex toy, Elijah,” Orlando says softly, feeding himself the bit of cake.
“Oh.” He didn’t expect this. Not Orlando’s reaction, but his own. Perhaps - maybe he has been programmed to want to be used, even if he is given the opportunity for something else. He has never faced a situation like this before and he doesn’t know what to do with the other craving. He stares at Orlando’s reflection in the polished table top.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want you.” Orlando’s voice is whisper soft. “I don’t - I don’t know what The Company programs you to think you’re designed for, but I want you to decide what you want, and when you want it.”
Elijah watches as Orlando pops another bite of cake into his mouth. He watches the flex of Orlando’s jaw, watches as Orlando swallows and then pauses to lick the merest bit of chocolate from his lip. What you want, and when you want it.
Elijah slides neatly from his chair to Orlando’s, until he is kneeling on the surface, straddling Orlando’s thighs.
“Eli-“
Elijah cuts off Orlando’s protest, desperate to feel that shock again; Orlando’s lips don’t disappoint. Elijah explores Orlando’s mouth, chases the taste of chocolate on Orlando’s tongue, there is no way he would trade chocolate for the spangles of heat in his belly.
“You said I could decide,” he says when he finally breaks their kiss.
Orlando cups his face, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheeks. “I did, but I wish I knew if it’s what you really want.”
“It is,” Elijah murmurs against Orlando’s lips before delving in to kiss away the doubt. Orlando’s kiss is still hesitant, and his hands remain on the arms of the chair, not the reaction Elijah had expected. “Don’t you believe me?”
“But … you’re programmed. I just …” Orlando appears at a loss.
“It’s not just that. I swear it.” Elijah wishes he could explain how he knows but he can’t, not yet, probably not ever. “You’ve been good to me -“
“See? You only want to repay me.”
“I wasn’t finished yet,” Elijah scolds, feeling a heady sense of freedom for the first time … ever. “I like your face. I like the way your lips feel against mine. I want … more. Is that wrong?”
Orlando’s reply is a fierce kiss and the touch he’s been craving. Orlando’s hands are strong and sure, skating up his thigh and over his chest.
“Just promise you’ll never lie to me,” Orlando whispers in his ear.
“I promise.” It spills so easily from his lips, so honestly.
Elijah rises up on his knees, his erection making sitting uncomfortable, and he feels Orlando’s knuckles graze his stomach as they work to undo the fly of his jeans. Orli’s other hand sweeps under his shirt, along his spine and Elijah bends like a cat seeking both touches.
His technology is seamless, he doesn’t have to process the sensation to deliver a reaction; when Orlando’s fingers curl around his freed cock his hips thrust forward, all action and reaction.
“Will you take me to bed?” Elijah asks, he tells himself it doesn’t matter if Orlando prefers the chair, or the table, or the floor, but a bed just seems to mean a little more. That he is worth a little more.
Orlando’s brows knit, those dark eyes full of uncertainty again.
“It’s what I want.” Elijah bends, kissing Orlando with his eyes open, watching as those brown eyes close and he rocks into Orli’s hand until there is no doubt what he wishes.
Orlando abruptly scoots to the edge of the chair, and lifts him effortlessly. Elijah means to slide down, surely he’s too heavy but Orlando’s hands stop him, pushing along his ass and thighs until he willingly wraps his legs around Orlando’s waist. Orli’s teeth nip gently at his jaw and Elijah shivers at the gentle drag of teeth, the scent of Orli’s skin.
“Wait!” Elijah cries, twisting to reach for the small bowl of whipped cream. He feels Orlando moan softly against his shoulder as his ass grinds against Orlando’s erection and Elijah smiles at the very vocal “fuck” Orlando hisses as he rights himself, purposefully causing even more friction.
“What’s that for?”
“I thought …” Elijah stops. He shouldn’t push things. Orlando says he wants what Elijah wants, but that may only go as far as saying the words, not actually meaning them. There’s a huge difference. “Should I put it back?”
“I just asked what it was for,” Orlando says softly.
“It’s for you,” Elijah explains with a devious smile, “and me.”
Orlando’s smile sparkles almost as much as his eyes. “Sounds like fun. So, are we ready now?” Orlando puffs.
“I can walk,” Elijah protests.
“No. I like you like this.” Elijah squirms as Orlando squeezes his cheeks and bucks against him for delirious moment. “Besides, it’s not that far.”
Elijah, not one to deny, lets Orlando carry him upstairs.
“Careful,” he warns, precipitating Orlando’s desire to drop him to the neatly made bed. He wouldn’t mind, it wouldn’t hurt, but he doesn’t want the confection he’s stolen from the table to make a mess.
“What? Oh.” Orlando grins and moves them near the nightstand. “We could have wait -“
Elijah silences Orlando with two cream-coated fingers, smearing the confection onto Orlando’s lips as he slithers down Elijah’s body. He kisses and licks the sweet away while Orlando struggles to get them both naked, only stopping when Orlando tugs up the hem of his shirt.
“You really love the cream, don’t you?” Orlando says softly.
“And the way you kiss me.” There is such desire in Orlando’s kiss. Like David’s, once, and he feels so wanted.
He warns himself not to think such things, or carry such hopes, even as Orlando deftly tips him onto the bed, skinning his jeans and boxers off quickly. He can want sex with Orlando all he wants, but nothing more.
He scrambles to his knees, more than aware of Orlando’s gaze. He hopes he is pleasing, but he doesn’t ask. In his experience, owners rarely keep their opinions to themselves. He is, after all, nothing more than merchandise to them.
“You’re not shy, are you?” Elijah asks, dropping his eyes to Orlando’s boxers.
“No,” Orlando grins easily, “just distracted.”
Elijah heats under such pretty words, the boxers join the tangle of clothes on the floor, and it’s readily apparent that Orlando has nothing to be shy about.
“I’m distracting?” Elijah asks coyly as he reaches for Orli with one hand and the cream with the other.
He feels Orlando’s light touch on his arm, fingers ghosting over his skin.
“You are so distracting. So per-fuck. That’s cold,” Orlando gasps.
Elijah smiles a wicked smile as he lifts his fingers to lick them clean, purposefully leaving a trail of sticky white sweet along Orlando’s stomach. “I’ve made a mess of you.”
“Messes can be fun.” Orlando joins him on the bed, pressing their bodies flush, making dessert of them both. Elijah can feel the slick, silky slide of cream between them, feel the hard line of Orlando’s cock, and the tip as it pokes against his belly.
“Making them, or cleaning them up?” Elijah tries not to cling as Orlando pulls away. He likes the banter, but he knows the drill. He folds to the bed and waits for Orlando to tell him how he wants it. Some of them were very particular. But there is only the feel of Orlando’s tongue against his skin, licking away the rapidly melting trail of melting cream.
“Both.” Elijah smiles. Orlando’s lips tickle. “I like both.”
Elijah threads his fingers into Orlando’s hair and closes his eyes, relishing it. He feels Orlando’s tongue dip into his carefully crafted navel, Orlando’s hands on his artificial hips, and no one would recognize what he was if they didn’t know already, and there are times, like now, when he feels so alive.
He expects Orlando to stop where the trail of sweet ends, but Orli’s mouth closes over the head of his cock instead. He doesn’t bother to stifle the little sound of pleasure he makes; if Orlando doesn’t wish him to make noise then he is sure Orlando will tell him.
But he would hate to be silenced when Orli’s mouth feels so good. This is a rare favor, one he likes very much.
Orlando’s mouth slides slowly at first, slicking his cock with long, slow pulls, increasing bit by bit in both speed and pressure, until there’s a white-hot heat ablaze inside him, in his balls, in his belly and every particle of what he is. He is suddenly, surprisingly, there.
“Orlando - I - Stop!” He pushes desperately at Orlando’s forehead, only to find his hand covered and pinned to the bedding.
“Want you to, ‘Lij,” Orlando tells him. Orlando’s hand never stops moving, nor his body with it. “It’s alright. Let go.”
Orlando’s mouth slips around him once more, sucking hard and oh, so eagerly and he is just unwilling to fight it any more. He closes his eyes, digs his fingers into the bedding and comes deliriously into Orlando’s mouth.
“All right?” Orlando asks softly, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh.
Elijah smiles, as much in response to the question, as the sweetness of Orlando’s lips. He finds it ironic that the ones who were cruelest never asked.
“Yes,” he answers honestly. He has never been brought off so expertly, or so early. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” The bed shifts under Orlando’s weight. “It was my pleasure.”
Elijah opens his eyes and watches Orlando move over him. He turns his palms up to feel the silky glide of Orlando’s warm skin.
“I don’t think so, but it will be,” Elijah promises as he drags his finger down to touch the sticky sweet that has all but melted into Orlando’s skin. He pushes himself up with one hand and laves the dessert from Orlando’s belly, running his free hand along the smooth arch of Orlando’s hip, over the fine curve of Orlando’s ass.
He takes his time because Orlando doesn’t rush him. There are fingers in his hair but they demand noting; he can feel the hard length of Orlando’s cock against his cheek as he works his way down but Orlando doesn’t try to force him there, just submits to his wicked neglect.
“You smell like sugar,” Elijah murmurs as he nuzzles the dark, wiry curls at the base of Orlando’s cock.
“Elijah …”
He can hear the strain in Orlando’s voice. “Yes?”
“Nothing.”
Elijah looks up, catches the glitter in Orlando’s eyes, the sweet smile lurking at the corner of Orlando’s mouth, and if he wasn’t touching Orlando right now he might doubt his existence.
“What is it?” Orlando asks.
It is Elijah’s turn to answer, “nothing.”
“You don’t have to if -“
Elijah licks Orlando to silence, tasting the bitter-sweet of the precome and whipped cream mingled together at the tip of Orlando’s cock. He slowly drags his tongue around the head, relishing the velvety feel of Orlando’s skin, before swallowing Orlando as deeply as he can in one eager move.
Above him, Orlando gasps and he can feel the tremor in Orli’s thigh; it excites him to know that he’s responsible for it and he wants more. He wants Orlando to lose control, he wants to do to Orlando what Orlando did to him.
He sucks deeper, harder, while pushing his hand down to cup Orlando’s balls; working hard to find the perfect rhythm, the perfect pressure, because he only wants to please.
“Lijah, stop.”
Elijah feels Orli’s hand on his forehead, physically stopping him. He looks up in utter confusion as Orlando steps back.
“But it’s what I want,” Elijah protests. He doesn’t understand.
Orlando smiles and kisses him. “All you want?”
“What?” Elijah asks.
“Is this all you want? If it is, then I’d never deny you.”
Elijah sits back on his heels, confused. “But?”
Orlando flinches. “Nothing.”
Elijah smiles, Orlando is lying. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me what you want.”
“That’s the thing …” Orlando looks as if he is about to confess a grave secret, “I didn’t want this to be about what I want,” Orlando reaches out and cups his cheek, “but I did that anyway, didn’t I?”
“Not really,” Elijah counters softly, “you still haven’t said what you want.” He moves to the very edge of the bed, until he’s leaning against Orlando.
“It’s okay to say it,” he urges when Orlando looks reluctant. “It would be all right if it’s mutual, wouldn’t it?”
“I want to be inside you,” Orlando whispers in his ear, fingers grasping him tightly.
“And I want you to fuck me.” He has never had to utter those words to another living soul, not and mean it, but he does. He is trembling with want and it is real this time, not contrived, not for the benefit of another’s pleasure. He has said them because he wants to, because he wants what Orlando wants.
“You’re -“
“I am.”
“But -“
Elijah silences Orlando with a burning kiss and another warning. “Don’t think.”
“Don’t think,” Orlando echoes with a firm nod. “Right. I just -”
Elijah nips Orli’s lips in warning. “No -“
“- lube.” Orlando’s breath catches as Elijah gives his cock a squeeze.
“Oh.” Elijah grins bemusedly as Orlando ravages the bedside drawer.
After a moment or two of digging, Orlando produces the tube and, with a sweet little smile of victory, knees his way onto the bed.
Elijah slides to the bedding, lying on his back, taking in the view as Orlando rubs the lube on his cock. Impatiently, he hooks one leg over Orli’s hip, trying to drag Orli closer, but he is met with resistance. He feels a jolt of fear run through him. What if Orlando is having second thoughts? What if Orlando’s concern is a front for having realized that a male Realistic isn’t what he wanted after all? It wouldn’t be the first time he was purchased out of curiosity, but he thought Orlando was different.
But Orlando’s reaction doesn’t support that theory. “Orli?”
“I’m sorry, I just …” Orlando looks at him like he is the most fragile thing in the entire universe. “You’re sure you want this? Want me?”
“Yes.” Elijah honestly believes that he does, to dwell on it more would result in useless strings of circular reasoning. He reaches for Orlando’s shoulders, pulls him close so that he can brush his lips against Orli’s. “I want you. I want this.” He slips his hand between their bodies and grips Orli’s cock. “I want you. I want this.”
“You didn’t want to … until I said …”
Elijah listens to Orlando stutter as he rubs the head of Orlando’s cock against his hole, purposefully eroding Orlando’s self-control, making it impossible for Orli to do anything other than push. The sensation of being opened and filled is always intense, sometimes painful if it’s too rough, but Orlando is careful, even in his need.
Orlando looms over him, dark and beautiful. Elijah takes the image with him as he closes his eyes to revel in the heat of Orlando’s skin, the tender slip and slide of lips against his, as Orli begins to thrust.
Orli’s mouth moves to his neck, his shoulders, bestowing soft kisses that feel like worship. He arches into it, knowing that when the novelty wears off this sweetness will too.
He runs his hands over Orlando’s body, mapping the supple skin, the shape of Orlando’s shoulder blades, the gentle curve of his spine, the sweet curve of his ass. He palms each cheek and squeezes, forcing Orlando deeper; Orlando moans against his neck.
“You’re going to make me come,” Orlando warns, nuzzling just below his ear.
“I should hope,” Elijah grins. He turns his head, exposing his neck, hoping to invite Orlando’s tongue; it works and he shivers beneath the delicate licks and graze of teeth.
“Is this… Is it good for you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Elijah knows Orlando must be aware of the hard cock pressed between their bodies. He drags his hands slowly up Orlando’s back and pushes his fingers into the tousled locks, pulling Orlando down for a kiss.
“A little,” Orlando grins.
“Good.” Elijah sucks Orlando’s lower lip, rocking his hips until Orlando responds in kind. It feels so good, so right, Orlando fucking him for both their pleasure. The rub of Orlando’s belly against his cock is infuriating, but far from enough; he worms one hand between their bodies and grips his cock.
“Ah, Lijah, fuck,” Orlando mumbles against his skin. Elijah can feel the telltale stutter of Orli’s hips, the shake in his thighs, the desperate, failing bid for self-control. Elijah works his own cock frantically, he’s so close, so very close… He stops jerking himself off abruptly, the need for release suddenly so urgent that it makes him squirm, but he waits for Orlando. His owner’s pleasure is paramount.
He opens his mouth, ready to plead for Orlando to hurry, but he’s coming before he can beg, unable to articulate anything, vaguely registering that Orlando is shivering with him.
Orlando slumps against him, spent and twitching. Elijah presses his face against Orli’s shoulder, relishing the weight and warmth of Orlando’s body. He likes this, likes being wrapped in Orlando’s arms, but eventually Orlando rolls off him, and Elijah waits to be told to leave the bed, knowing that most of the others sent him away after.
“Come on, under the covers.” Orli’s voice sounds blurry, sleepy.
Elijah can’t help but smile happily. He was hoping, he was so hoping…
Orlando makes room for him under the covers, opens his arms and reels him in.
“How long?” Elijah asks as he snuggles next to Orlando’s body. “Or… would you rather I leave after a certain point in time?”
“How long what?” Orlando asks, tucking the blankets around them both.
“How long do you want me to sleep?”
“You sleep?”
Elijah smiles. They never really read the manual and they always react the same way.
“Technically, no. Not like you. I can put myself in stasis. I can set an internal clock for as many hours or minutes as you’d like.”
He feels Orlando’s fingers comb through his hair. “Do you dream?”
The question catches him off-guard. “No,” he answers softly, trying his best to keep the tinge of disappointment from his voice, “not like you.” He has always been curious, always wondered what it must be like to experience a real dream, not a nightmare but something strange and wonderful, something he has no control over, like a happy future.
He dreams, just not when he is in stasis.
“Do you have to set a sleep schedule?” Orlando asks.
Elijah shakes his head. “No, but … you’d have to wake me. If I go into stasis without setting an alarm I won’t wake on my own.” He’s never been entirely comfortable with that idea. “I could go clean up the food,” he suggests.
“No,” Orli mumbles, “leave it.”
“But it will spoil.”
“Don’t care. Want you here.” Orlando gives him a little squeeze.
“You want me to sleep, then?” he asks, but there is no reply, just the sound of Orlando’s shallow, steady respirations. He debates stasis, but only for a moment, he doesn’t like leaving himself vulnerable and Orlando never ordered him to. No, he’s more comfortable staying alert. He lies there, as the shadows creep across the room, dusk succumbing to dark, studying Orlando’s face and ‘dreaming’ his wide-awake dreams of a possible, happy, future.
TBC …