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He was already out of breath when he let his hand press to his throat.
(That hadn’t been in the original plan. This was already too close- too fraught. It was already embarrassing enough (and hotter for it, but he wouldn’t admit it.), and then to really mimic the original event he was fucking himself to? It felt… inappropriate.)
But his palm is hot, it’s not big enough, and it’s rough. But it fits well against his skin, and he can feel his pulse, and how he swallows, and he squeezes just a bit-
His eyes flutter shut and he exhales with it, and squeezes harder when he breathes in, just to suffer the pressure. Digs his fingers into his folds under his pants, shudders with it, presses into his palm. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning, from making sounds aloud.
It’s already watching him. Making sounds would just make this worse.
(He’s hoping it will drop the input, remove the drone that always watches him. Hope against an immovable object.)
It pings him, a tap on his augments that force a gasp from him, leaves him flexing his palm tight and loose on his neck. It’s in their private feed channel, feed-voice almost aggressive-
What the fuck are you doing? It doesn’t wait for an answer, You’re going to hurt yourself.
Is it stupid? No, that’s uncharitable. Willfully obtuse, then. He grinds into his hand and sends back, sharp and biting, That’s half the point.
He shouldn’t, but he’s close, the inability to breathe feels good . He’s dazed in a way he can’t focus. It’s overwhelming to the senses. He wants more, he wants it in his feed, telling him off. It’s dreadful and inappropriate and he shouldn’t.
He presses fingers into himself anyway, shudders with it. It says Cut that out. Don’t make me call the medsystem.
He’s fine- he’s not really hurting himself, it doesn’t need to call the medsystem. It knows that, he’s sure. (Does it know how attractive its feed-voice is? It’s firm, and demanding, and heavy in a way he doesn’t think he could explain to someone non-augmented. It shouldn’t be as much of a turn on as it is.)
It says I’m on my way, and he can’t think anymore. Another finger, another shift of his hips to press against his palm. It’s good in a way he can’t think about because if he lets himself think he thinks about-
It’s there and in his room and he’s so startled he can’t move, can’t gasp out because his hand is still-
Only for a second, it’s grabbing his wrist and forcing his arm against the wall above his head, faster than he can blink, and he has to bite his tongue so that he doesn’t whine about it, doesn’t moan desperately because it touched him.
He can’t look at it, is left gasping, panting for breath he’d denied himself, while it holds his wrist and stands too-too close to him, like a wall boxing him in.
It’s exactly as intimidating and exactly as fucking attractive as he remembers it being. (Never frightening. Never scary. He was never afraid of it.) He swallows.
He can’t move, can’t look at it. (Is it angry?) It hasn’t grabbed his other hand. It’s just standing there, it’s been seconds- it has to do something eventually.
It’s appearance hasn’t stopped him from being horny. Actually, it’s probably made it worse, and he’s squirming now less because it’s grabbed him and pinned him and more- he’s trying so hard not to keep touching. He can feel his pulse in his skin and the heat in his wrist from it’s palm and he’s still so fucking out of breath.
But it hasn’t grabbed his other hand. He presses down, and shudders and shuts his eyes.
It says You could’ve fucking asked.
What? He opens his mouth to ask and doesn't get the chance, and all the air comes out of him when it draws its hand up in one smooth motion and takes him by the neck. It presses down and it forces his lowered head to hit the wall, and he whines when it presses.
Shit. Okay.
It still hasn’t tried to take his other hand, it hasn’t tried to stop him, it hasn’t said fucking anything about it, and it’s fucking choking him now. It squeezes, but in a careful, controlled way he couldn’t, and it’s hand is so fucking perfect . If it killed him, it would be so worth it.
He’d pulled his fingers out, and he pushes them back in, two then three, hard and fast and bites his tongue so he doesn’t moan because it’s so much and so good . His lungs are starting to ache but he can’t breathe around it’s hand and his thumb slides and he sees spots just before it shifts it’s hand and he inhales, hard and sharp and it’s dizzying with the pressure in his lungs and at the same time it jams it’s thumb into the soft underside of his jaw, forcing his head up and shutting his mouth when he tries to gasp.
It taps him in the feed, requesting access to his augments, and he shudders over it, but it squeezes when it does so and he gives over access because what is it going to do, corrupt him with malware? (He might deserve it for this)
It’s presence in the feed is huge, he’s always known it was big, bigger than his, but it feels like a wall sliding into his augments, a wave. Water that’s drowning him, the pressure in his head is enough to have him moaning again, and it flexes it’s hand on his wrist and his throat and it’s so much.
It should be too much but it’s not enough, and he moves his hand more aggressively, sliding his thumb against his clit and pressing in with his fingers and it’s more difficult while he’s clothed and it’s starting to ache but he needs just a little more- it tightens its grip on his neck hard enough that he’s dead certain it will bruise, but it’s not trying to hurt him.
In his augments and his feed it starts shuffling his files, flicking settings on and off, prodding into his vision augments and into his medical augments, almost absentminded and the casual ease with which it moves through him has him pressing into its palm, desperate for more and so close.
He’s squirming, he can’t help it, it’s presence in the feed is huge, it’s too much, and it’s hand is so tight on his neck. Almost offhandedly it says, so directly in his augments, not even a feed message anymore- Quit squirming.
He wants to beg it to squeeze harder, but he can’t bear to talk, can’t bear to say anything to it, and when he opens his mouth all the comes out are moans anyway, and its thumb is still pressed to his jaw so that it hurts, and he shudders and starts trying to work his fourth finger into himself, and the pressure from his augments and his hand in his cunt have him putting his weight on it’s hands.
(He has to touch himself, he can’t not, it hasn’t asked him to stop. Its only pinned him, crushed his neck, dug through his augments. It’s watching him closely which should make this worse, should scare him. It just makes it hotter and that’s so wrong and unfair to it.)
It eases off just when he wants it to tighten and he gasps through the cold, sudden blissful air and its only a second before it squeezes, and it pulls back out of his augments, and he can finally get himself to look, to try and meet it’s gaze, and it’s expression is intense - incredibly focused and only on him and he can’t- he shuts his eyes again, shudders. Grinds into his palm.
(It’s practically studying him. Is this its own form of scientific study? He can’t begrudge it that-)
(He’s so close - he just needs-)
It tightens his grip, and presses back into his augments, and his breath catches and he can’t breath and he can’t-
He shudders with the force of his orgasm and stills totally, slumping in its grip so its hands on his neck and wrist are the only thing holding him up, and when it loosens its grip and moves its thumb he pants openly, swallowing desperately for air.
He’s opened his eyes, and in the corner of his eye he can see it, just barely, and it’s expression has smoothed, and it’s presence in the feed almost- rounds, or softens, and he doesn’t know what to make of it-
It drops him, so suddenly he can’t catch himself, slides down the wall, still panting for breath, but he catches himself on his hands.
It says “What the fuck.” And he looks up at it, blinking past the daze and warmth in his head. It looks startled, and a little disgruntled, or annoyed. Its feed presence has pulled back, and he’d barely noticed. But it doesn’t look angry. It mostly looks confused.
He swallows again, says “You didn’t have to come. I was okay. I wasn’t really… I wasn’t hurting myself.”
Now it looks angry. Downright furious, even. It says “Fuck you.”
And then it squishes him in the feed, its presence suddenly so large and heavy he moans under it, arches away from the wall, squeezes his hands into fists on his thighs.
In his head, in his augments, his feed, it says do you like that?
He squeezes his eyes shut and nods, just slightly, and it retreats in the feed again. It doesn’t say anything, and they’re at a stalemate for several seconds. He counts, waiting, for it to say something, do something. It has to be furious at this point. He’d really fucked up.
It comes back into his feed like it’s punching him, like it’s slamming into him physically, and he whines and arches away from the wall, gasping out the air in his chest, it’s so much like he can’t even breath (like it’s choking him from the inside out).
It’s so much, his skin tingles, and he squirms, catches his breath, says “What are you-?”
And in his feed it says, sharp and viscous, Shut up Gurathin.
It’s so heavy in the feed, his wriggles against it, arches his back and shudders, and it’s so all encompassing he doesn’t feel it move til it's kneeling over his thighs, planting one hand on the wall and the other on his neck, and he presses into it desperately as it squeezes again, and his whimper is lost in the pressure.
He opens his eyes and looks at it, and it’s looking at him.
They make eye contact. It looks- Angry? But almost fascinated, like it can’t not look at him. Does it-? It knows what’s happening. It must. And it’s doing it anyway.
It squeezes again, and he shuts his eyes, squirming like he can get away (he can’t, oh fuck, that’s too much )
He can’t even ask if it really gets it, knows what they’re doing, wants to be doing it. He has to squeeze his fists tighter not to touch it, he can’t, oh it would kill him. (Would it really?)
He’s so sensitive- but it’s so heavy in his feed, pressing into every part of his processors, he can’t possibly have the space it’s taking up, and it’s painful and good in a way that hits him, and he’s going to come again from it being in his feed, fuck.
It squeezes and relaxes its hand, and he whimpers into the air, desperate and it finds some new part of his feed to crush down and he jerks, and it squeezes so tight -
His second orgasm hits him by surprise, and he can only gasp with it, and he hears it exhale sharply (surprised?), and feels it relax its fist and pull back in the feed, gently, shifting to an almost- it’s presence gets soft, cautious. Petting him, nearly, in the feed.
Its hand has relaxed so much, it’s almost just resting on his throat, holding him gently. He doesn’t know what to make of it, at all.
It’s voice is ridiculously soft, and gentle, and it tells him, quietly in his feed You need a shower.
He snorts, can’t stop himself from devolving into giggles, even as it slips its hand off his neck and rocks back on its heels.
He blinks his eyes open and nods, sends back Yeah, I do.