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We walk around the edge of a field where crops are growing, a variety of vegetables to judge by the foliage. Gurathin picks at his nail polish. His heart rate suggests that he's feeling excited already. Or nervous. Or both. There's a lot of overlap.
It's been one year since I hacked my governing module. One year since I gave myself a name. I wasn't going to make much of a deal of it, but Gurathin says that the day is significant and requires celebration. There will be a party later, which was supposed to be a surprise, but Gurathin’s not as good at covering his tracks as he thinks he is. He successfully deleted the communications from his files, but Arada left them all sitting in her inbox.
He gave me a present this morning. A data cable. He knows what I like.
Our connection is intense but undefined. When I came back to Preservation Alliance he invited me to share his home. I accepted. Having held so many of my memories, he understands me better than anyone else. We communicate through his augments, which is more natural than talking out loud. He makes no demands of me. He doesn't touch me. He barely looks at me, except through the security cameras. He even watches Sanctuary Moon with me, buried up inside my data like a small animal seeking shelter.
Which is weird. But kind of nice.
When we plug in, it's even better. The organic goo of his human brain is as confusing as ever, but he makes sure I don't get completely lost. I like the feeling of connection. I like that he sees so much of me and still wants me that close.
I like having him close, too. It's irrational, but I've learned to live with it. Even to enjoy it.
I realised very early on that he's still an idiot. So many bad decisions. Of course, that works to my advantage in our current situation. We're making a whole bunch of bad decisions together. This morning I made a terrible suggestion and he agreed to it. So here we are, wandering around the middle of nowhere, while I monitor his vital signs and try to steadily increase the tension. If I get it right, the spike of endorphins later in the day is going to be spectacular.
And, because I'm also enjoying being an impulsive idiot, I'm going to slide right into his data port when that happens.
It's not like I want anything to do with the sex parts. I don't think Gurathin is exactly thrilled by the idea himself, but his body has other ideas. The first time that particular issue came up he at least warned me and asked for some privacy. I didn't watch. Just monitored his vitals. I noticed that when I sent him a ping, his pulse increased. It was interesting. I tested my theory a few more times and got a few more spikes in his readings.
I checked on him afterwards. He looked different. He doesn't have the same kind of features as the actors in my media, who I know are often considered by other humans to be attractive, but in that moment, in spite of the sweat and the smells, he looked quite appealing. Relaxed. Open.
The basic drive in my programming is to keep my clients safe. Gurathin makes bad decisions, like forgetting to eat, refusing medical care, and putting himself in danger to spite me. Okay, maybe not the last one anymore. Not since he downloaded all my files. Gurathin is no longer my client. I think the term for what we have now is friend. And Gurathin, left to his own devices, is not safe. So I decided that I would tweak my programming into thinking that he was a client, and it wasn't a huge leap from there to think of taking care of his wellbeing as keeping him safe. I've seen in his mind what would happen if he had a relapse. Toxic chemicals spreading through his system, tricking his brain into thinking that everything was better this way, and the torture that his body would go through as the effects wore off. I will keep him safe from that. I will feed him and keep him healthy and occupied and soothe him with high quality media so that he's never tempted to do that again.
I may not have dopamine, but I do get positive feedback for a job well done. And when I look at Gurathin, messy, relaxed and grinning, I know he is safe, and that feels very good.
And then I make another stupid decision. I want to be in the room with you when you do it.
He makes a noise like he's being strangled. Why do I find it satisfying? Because he's flushed and his pulse is racing. He's either very embarrassed or very aroused.
“I… yes… um. Okay.”
So that's a good reaction you're feeling now?
Very good.
Good. I still don't want to see you naked. Or touch you.
Not touching is our thing, right? Like rushing into intimate situations. I can do it under a sheet. And I'll keep my shirt on.
That will help.
He's quiet for a minute. Which is probably good, he needs to calm the fuck down. It's not time yet.
Can I ask why?
Why it would help?
Why you want to be in the room.
So I can plug in more quickly once you're done.
And?
Because I'm curious to find out if it feels good. Watching you. Whether I'll be put off by what you're doing to yourself, or whether it'll be like when I pinged you and I got satisfaction from your reactions.
So you want to see but you don't want to see.
Exactly.
I feel like there's something else.
You're getting annoyingly good at reading me. Yes. It's another level of intimacy. Being with you in a private moment.
His pulse goes up again, but this time he's not blushing. I would be delighted to share that moment with you.
I don't have a pulse, and I can maintain my skin temperature at a constant level. But the way he smiles in my general direction gives me a good sensation that I've never quite been able to pin down.
I take him to a restaurant for a late lunch and watch him eat. It must be weird for the other customers to see. Two people sitting in silence, not making eye contact. Their opinions don't matter. I remind him that he'll need his strength for later. I like the way the lighter patches on his face and neck go extra pink. I let him settle down and treat him to dessert before I ask the next question.
Is there anything else I can do, to make it feel better when you stimulate your genitals?
It's not his usual laugh. This one sounds like when the villains are conspiring on ‘Strife in the Galaxy.’ Many, many things. Almost all of which I would never actually ask you to do.
Because they involve touching.
Yes. And respecting your boundaries is a much more satisfying way of showing I care about you.
You liked the pings when you did it before.
I particularly liked the fact that you pinged me more the closer I got to completion. I liked that you knew what you were doing with them.
Because it was a form of communication. You like my awareness of your arousal.
He takes another spoonful of his dessert and sucks it off the spoon slowly.
Your pupils have just increased in diameter by one point four millimetres and your body temperature is increasing again.
Is it time to go home yet?
Soon. First I want you to tell me something. You said “almost all.” That means there are some things that you think I wouldn't mind doing. I want to know what those are.
He fills his lungs slowly. The bastard is trying to tease me as much as I'm teasing him. And it's working.
The pings were very good. But I'd also like to hear your voice.
Out loud or in your head?
Either. Both.
What would you like me to say?
I'm sure you'll come up with something. Just make sure it's relevant to the situation at hand. Tell me if you like what you see. Or how disgusting it is. You could talk about how it makes you feel. What you want me to do to myself. Anything you want me to know in that moment.
His vitals are strong, like he's getting ready for a fight. It's sending all my threat sensors into a nonsensical mess. Will you talk back?
Would you like me to? He doesn't point out that I didn't want him to before. He knows that things have changed somehow.
I think… yes.
I sense another “and.”
When did I turn from hunter into hunted? When Pin-Lee and Arada made the contract with Ratthi, they all made a lot of noise. But you've been very quiet so far. Is that a personal difference or something that you've been doing for my benefit?
He shifts in his seat. Good, I'm back in control. A bit of both. I'm not naturally as loud as those three were. But I have been doing my best to keep it muted to help you feel comfortable.
You don't need to worry about that anymore. Especially if I'm in the same room.
He puts his spoon down. I think I've had enough of dessert.
Then why are you still licking your lips?
***
I was expecting his tension levels to drop while we got set up. But they're going the other way.
“You have your cable ready?” he asks.
“It's in my pocket.”
“We have two options. I can do it under the quilt or just a sheet. Quilt is thicker, Which means there's less risk of inadvertently seeing anything, but it's also warmer and I'll sweat more.”
I prefer the sheet. It's easier to avoid looking at things than smelling them.
“That's what I thought, too.”
I stand there while he takes the quilt off the bed, folds it, and puts it in the bottom of the wardrobe. He arranges the sheet and tucks it in but not tightly so that he has room to move. He has an idea and I watch him go across the hall into the bathroom where he picks up a microfiber towel. He brings it back and hides it underneath the sheet. I wonder why, and then realise it's probably for the fluids.
This is such a bad idea.
You look nervous.
My risk assessment module is struggling to interpret so much unusual data.
It's okay. I'm nervous too. Remember you can still withdraw consent at any time. Just tell me to stop and we can pause and re-evaluate or stop altogether. Just because you've said yes once doesn't mean you're committed to the whole thing.
That's good to know. I'll remember that. It's odd. It feels like he's taking care of me too. It's a feeling I'm still getting used to.
If you're ready, I'll get under the sheet now. I'll take my pants off while I'm under so you won't see anything you don't want to. And I won't start until you say so.
I nod. He crawls under the sheet. I hear the click of his belt opening and slow movements on the fabric as he removes his clothing. He rearranges the sheet around his chest.
There are two cameras in this room, one in a high corner which enables me to see the room as a whole including the doorway, and another which is focused on the bed so I can monitor his safety while he sleeps. I've set the camera drone on the bedside table and it has an excellent view of his face which sometimes helps me interpret what he's feeling. I set that one as my main feed and minimise the other two for now. My eyes are still giving me too wide a perspective so I step forward until I'm closer to the head of the bed. Gurathin looks up at me. I am looming over him, which might be disconcerting, so get down onto my knees instead. I like the position because it gives me another angle of his face. The drone is a cheap, low quality piece of crap anyway.
I'm ready, I tell him through our private link.
I'm not looking down, but his right arm moves. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly, and then lets out a tiny hum.
I don't know exactly what to say yet, so I send him a ping. He smiles and makes another contented sound.
Does it feel good? It's a stupid question. All readings indicate he's enjoying this. But this whole thing is sending several of my circuits into overdrive.
Yes. Very good. I'm glad that you decided to stay with me.
He catches his lower lip between his teeth.
It's my job to take care of you.
And you do it so well. You make me feel so good. I'm warm, and fed, and happy.
And “turned on.”
I've been turned on all day. You've done an excellent job of driving me completely wild. I'm so ready for this.
His breaths are deepening. I send another ping. The automated response from his augments is point zero six seconds slower to return than usual. Clearly he's processing a lot of sensory data.
So far, my discomfort is outweighed by my curiosity. It's definitely weird. There's a small movement in his upper arm that indicates his hand is not still, it's moving over his genitals to stimulate them. I expected this, but watching it happen is surreal. As I look at him I retrieve what limited information he told me about the process.
Is your penis hard and swollen now?
I can hear his groan both out loud and in my mind. The movement of his arm increases slightly. “Yes,” he gasps.
Then you are doing everything right.
He moans again. I watch quietly for a while, enjoying the positive feedback I'm getting from his expressions, sending occasional pings so he knows that I'm still with him. Then I notice a crease in his forehead and his brows start to frown. Or perhaps it's concentration. All his bio signs are rising and the movement is quicker and more intense. I'm starting to get curious about what's happening under the sheet.
How does it feel? When you touch yourself like that?
Good. Aching. Pulsing.
The words don't make sense to me. None of this makes sense to me. I can hear skin tapping on skin. I shouldn't look down. I really shouldn't. It's going to be weird.
I tap into the camera over the bed. I see the outline of his legs through the sheet, bent at the knees, straining as his hips rock up and down. The movements around his groin are fast and urgent, but with a slow playback I can make out the form of his hand and what's poking out the end of it. A small, wet mark appears on the sheet there.
“Stop,” I say as I quickly switch back to a more limited viewpoint. His arm stills, but his breathing remains fast and shallow.
“Too much?”
I looked down.
How bad was it?
You're leaking.
Sorry, I should have warned you about that.
Your vitals haven't spiked yet.
No. Sometimes it leaks a little before it's done. I'm not there yet.
The information is comforting. It means that I'm still interpreting the data accurately. Good. I like seeing you enjoy yourself.
Do you want to keep watching?
Yes. Please carry on with the touching.
He moans and his arm starts moving again. I don't look down. There's no need. His breath, his whimpers, the tightness that slowly builds in his muscles says it all.
“Gurathin,” I whisper, because he asked for my voice and it feels right to match it to all those intriguing little vocalisations. “You are doing such a good job of taking care of yourself for me. It feels good to see you like this. All of your bio readings are right on track. Keep going for me.”
My voice has the desired effect. His heart is beating so hard that if it weren't for previous readings I'd be worried about a cardiac event. His body strains and his face contorts.
I ping him again and send my approval wordlessly into his augments. But now he's peaking too fast. Slow down. Breathe. That's good. Keep it steady for me.
He nods and whimpers, but gets his body back where I want it. Well done. You're doing so well.
He sends me a wave of appreciation and I realise that my approval is a key factor here. He's not just doing this for himself. He wants to share all of the good feelings with me. I nestle into the edges of his mind, not deep enough to experience any of the physical sensations but enough so we can feel close and connected.
That's perfect. Just a little longer for me.
I watch him. It's fascinating. It's beautiful. When he's gasping for breath and his face is twisted with the effort, I pull my cable out of my pocket and get it plugged into the back of my neck. I sit on the bed beside his squirming body, leaning over him with one hand on the pillow and the other with the cable near his port.
He's spiking.
”Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!”
Yes, Gurathin. You've earned this. Let it out now.
The movements become even more frantic and his back arches. He cries out once, and then again, and then he groans my name as his body shudders and strains and goes limp.
I flag that memory file as one to analyse in greater detail next time he's sleeping.
I plug into him and activate the connection.
The flood of sensations is so intense I collapse forward and stop myself just before I land on him. His breath is hot on my face. I don't care. This is fucking amazing.
I blur into him. I can't help it. Our body is so heavy, our skin tingling. There's a throbbing between our legs which is covered by soft, damp fabric. The towel, yes. The fluids are gross but it's worth it for everything else. Because we're floating. There's no other word for it. There's a pounding in our chest that we identify as heart. Every breath is deeply nourishing, sending oxygen and bliss right to our fingertips and the ends of our toes. I had no idea such sensations even existed.
And then there's the buzzing in our mind, like all thought is soft and fuzzy around the edges.
There's another body hovering over us, wonderfully and dangerously close. The feelings it generates are overwhelming but so, so good. There's more of that floatiness, and something else, something so warm and deep and impossible to comprehend. And yet it has echoes of intimacy.
Oh. Right. That's my body. I don't want to move because our proximity is giving us such intense feelings, but I can also sense, through the waves of euphoria, that Gurathin is desperately fighting instincts that tell him to get even closer. Fuck, he's still thinking about what I need, even now.
I push myself up and stare at the wall, sending the drone to capture his expression from every angle. His eyelids are heavy, his smile soft, with every trace of tension gone from his mouth and his forehead. It's a sight that matches all the amazing sensations that I'm still experiencing through the connection. Content Gurathin. Peaceful Gurathin.
He's looking towards me, as well. It doesn't count as eye contact when I'm seeing him from a different angle. My head still feels very floaty. If this is a natural high, I can't imagine how an unnatural one would feel. I can, however, imagine wanting to repeat this experience, and it makes me all the more determined to maintain our limits and make sure we do everything in moderation. I will keep him safe.
Just as I think my head- his head- might be clearing, I'm hit by another surge of the warm, intimate feeling. Gurathin helps me identify it. Dopamine. Oxytocin. I soak in those chemicals for a little longer. Then a random thought occurs to me and I ask before I think better of it.
So this is what the romance plots are always chasing? This feeling?
And the rest of it. There's something very smug in his expression.
The rest of what?
You know. Waking up together. Feeling valued. Having someone to share your favourite things with.
Huh. That sounds a lot like us. Because we do all of those things. All the things that couples do. No, not all. Romance is the kissing and the holding hands and messy smooshing together of body parts. Or is it? Gurathin?
Yes, Murderbot?
Are we in a romantic relationship?
When he laughs, I'm not sure if it's because I'm right or because I'm wrong, or simply because he's still enjoying the floaty feeling. I'm still floaty too, so I don't mind waiting for clarification.
I'm sorry. That shouldn't be funny. You're perfect and you're adorable. And I'm so glad that you finally worked that part out.
I think that's a yes. But we don't kiss. Or even hold hands.
No, we just ping. He starts giggling again.
I don't know if it's him who's not making sense or the endorphins are messing that badly with my mind that I just can't follow. Oh. Pings are kisses?
Sort of. Pings are how I know that you're thinking of me. They connect us. And sometimes that's just a quick hello, and other times it metaphorically sets my blood on fire. So yeah, I guess pings are kisses.
I consider the explanation. It makes a kind of sense. Human desires, it seems, are more than just a biological imperative to procreate, or the pleasurable associations that they're programmed with to encourage that process. Physical touch is a way of connecting. I’ve seen that among the team when they interact. They have to touch because they don't have the ability to connect more intimately, like Gurathin and I do. They blend their bodies because they cannot blend their minds.
I move the camera drone closer to his face, and he turns to look at it. That doesn't count as eye contact either, because the crappy drone is not a part of me. But it means I can see all the details of his face. His dark eyes with pupils blown wide. The tiny beads of sweat on his brow and the extra red spot on his lower lip where he's been biting it. The intricately winding edges where the two tones of his flushed complexions meet. This is Gurathin, the man who has given himself over to me completely. Not to own, because belonging to is not the same as belonging with, but mine all the same. I feel that warm glow again, but it's impossible to tell if it comes from him or me.
I send him a ping.
He pings back.
I just kissed you, I say, because I understand now. It puts everything into a new frame of reference.
He doesn't answer, just turns back towards me and smiles a most satisfying smile, and I feel the rush of dopamine again.