He grinned. Despite the situation he'd tossed her into, she definitely was right up there on the 10-star brainwave. Fate's grin faltered slightly as it occurred to him that he was considering sending her coordinates so he could make could on that visual, when there was every chance her methods of dealing with horrifying memories--copious dirty talk conquering mad science tubes of evilness--could mean she was actually insane. Brilliant, but mad in an armed sex-kitten with MANY issues kind of way.
.............
He shrugged and pulled his chair underneath him. He could work with crazy.
Wasn't there a saying somewhere about levels of crazy and proportionate qualities of sex?
It might not be intelligent to invite her over for a gander at his lair but his dick certainly seemed to believe it'd be worth it. Capitalized, underlined, grammatically incorrect individual sentences.
She slipped, and he caught his breath, at a loss for a witty comeback while he watched her watch her hands and regain a footing on the wall. How many times had he been asked to shut up by his agents? How many times had Sascha threatened to sneak plantlife into his food that would numb his vocal cords? And yet no one, ever, had thought to put the image of a ball gag into his head. Not that it worked to make him quiet. "Oh, you can buy it," he finally said. "But using it would severely hamper the torque of all that tongue action you've been asking after."
"What kind of--?" He snorted softly.
>>CMD:Play ConvoRec: RE: BALL GAG
"Ring any bells, my demented Aphrodite?"
When she got to the top, the lid closed and the android did a jaunty little bow that Fate imagined it had never been designed to do. It straightened with a series of unfortunate looking jerky motions, turned, and sauntered off to hop the subway along with a handful of other public transit modalities, to return to its charging station. If anyone had noticed it was missing, Fate hadn't seen an alarm--he'd deal with it if it was an issue, and he'd be able to do so much more easily now that Rage was out, relieved, laughing.
It was lucky he'd already given the commands before she spoke again, lest the humanoid machine veer off course toward the nearest lifeform again. "I promised you something when you got to the top," he said, again sidestepping her question. Let her think he just wasn't going to at all. Maybe make her work for it, or ask--no. Beg.
Fate clenched the arms of his chair like they'd restrain him from misbehaving. He was not going to take a picture of his tongue. Tongue pictures were not sexy.
Not remotely.
So of course that meant he'd send video instead.
The short clip showed the lower half of his face, short bristles of stubble, the edge of his HUD, a glimpse of a wire draped over his t-shirt clad shoulder, and his tongue slowly arcing up and over the curve between his thumb and index finger.
"You ever hear of the incident on Prima Farr--the space station outpost off of Gamma 17? It was a couple decades back and it only hit mainstream feeds for half a Terran cycle--wouldn't be surprised if you haven't." He paused. "My aunt worked there. She's the one who helped me through my first implant. She worked for a non-profit 'zoo' of sorts, testing the stability of old-Earth creatures on-station, trying to find ways to help them cope to grav and more sterile environments. After the incident, I knew we'd lost her--she never commed again."
He cleared his throat, staring past his screens, seeing the past in his own head as clearly as she had hers--without the actual video playback. "The big cats were her favorite. I got it when I was old enough to know to go looking. And found out the corporation that owned it thought the operation--everything, Rage. Animals, human lives, tech, all--more viable as scrap metal. They'd hired some mercs to blow it up."
The file was encrypted with a series of studious blinks, and his lips curved as he layered in an additional present. A coordinate--the first of potentially many.
"Well." He shook himself off and sent the file. "Hey, sugar...how do you feel about treasure hunts?"
.............
He shrugged and pulled his chair underneath him. He could work with crazy.
Wasn't there a saying somewhere about levels of crazy and proportionate qualities of sex?
It might not be intelligent to invite her over for a gander at his lair but his dick certainly seemed to believe it'd be worth it. Capitalized, underlined, grammatically incorrect individual sentences.
Worth. It.
She slipped, and he caught his breath, at a loss for a witty comeback while he watched her watch her hands and regain a footing on the wall. How many times had he been asked to shut up by his agents? How many times had Sascha threatened to sneak plantlife into his food that would numb his vocal cords? And yet no one, ever, had thought to put the image of a ball gag into his head. Not that it worked to make him quiet. "Oh, you can buy it," he finally said. "But using it would severely hamper the torque of all that tongue action you've been asking after."
"What kind of--?" He snorted softly.
>>CMD:Play ConvoRec: RE: BALL GAG
"Ring any bells, my demented Aphrodite?"
When she got to the top, the lid closed and the android did a jaunty little bow that Fate imagined it had never been designed to do. It straightened with a series of unfortunate looking jerky motions, turned, and sauntered off to hop the subway along with a handful of other public transit modalities, to return to its charging station. If anyone had noticed it was missing, Fate hadn't seen an alarm--he'd deal with it if it was an issue, and he'd be able to do so much more easily now that Rage was out, relieved, laughing.
It was lucky he'd already given the commands before she spoke again, lest the humanoid machine veer off course toward the nearest lifeform again. "I promised you something when you got to the top," he said, again sidestepping her question. Let her think he just wasn't going to at all. Maybe make her work for it, or ask--no. Beg.
Fate clenched the arms of his chair like they'd restrain him from misbehaving. He was not going to take a picture of his tongue. Tongue pictures were not sexy.
Not remotely.
So of course that meant he'd send video instead.
The short clip showed the lower half of his face, short bristles of stubble, the edge of his HUD, a glimpse of a wire draped over his t-shirt clad shoulder, and his tongue slowly arcing up and over the curve between his thumb and index finger.
"You ever hear of the incident on Prima Farr--the space station outpost off of Gamma 17? It was a couple decades back and it only hit mainstream feeds for half a Terran cycle--wouldn't be surprised if you haven't." He paused. "My aunt worked there. She's the one who helped me through my first implant. She worked for a non-profit 'zoo' of sorts, testing the stability of old-Earth creatures on-station, trying to find ways to help them cope to grav and more sterile environments. After the incident, I knew we'd lost her--she never commed again."
He cleared his throat, staring past his screens, seeing the past in his own head as clearly as she had hers--without the actual video playback. "The big cats were her favorite. I got it when I was old enough to know to go looking. And found out the corporation that owned it thought the operation--everything, Rage. Animals, human lives, tech, all--more viable as scrap metal. They'd hired some mercs to blow it up."
The file was encrypted with a series of studious blinks, and his lips curved as he layered in an additional present. A coordinate--the first of potentially many.
"Well." He shook himself off and sent the file. "Hey, sugar...how do you feel about treasure hunts?"
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
The following 1 user Likes danixiewrites's post: Tindome
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RE: Wicked, Wanton, and Wired [Closed] - by Blade - 11-20-2015, 10:50 PM
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