Work Text:
Henry had given him some spending money, nothing extravagant considering his view of Eclipse as nothing more than a machine, but he was still an extension of henry and as such, if he needed to make some purchase to maintain his image then so be it. For the most part, his guard spent it on trinkets and souvenirs for a very important person to him and the remainder would find its way back into Henry’s pocket some way or another. But lately, he's been saving his change. Henry didn’t question it, uninterested in the spending habits of his robotic guard, but Eclipse was careful about it nonetheless, storing the bills and coins in an otherwise unused pocket for safe keeping. He didnt know why he was saving until he saw it on a display as he followed Henry shopping. He knew exactly who he was saving for.
*
“Mouse,” his heavy voice greeted you as he took hold of a full ice chest. It was just you and the blackjack dealer in the lounge before the large animatronic showed up and while his presence was no longer the most frightening thing, his ability to move so quietly still startled you.
“‘Clipse!” You gasp, hand to your heart before the sudden anxiety dissipates. He listened to it rumble with a sharp grin. Hed come to like the way your heart fluttered so readily for him. He continued on the path you had set towards the bar, leaving you in his wake. You caught up just as he set the large insulated chest behind the counter.
“You’re here early,” you comment after thanking him for his favor, pushing the ice chest into its home. “Does Mr. Emily want a drink?”
“No, mouse,” eclipse answered, amused. He leant against the counter as he tried to contain himself. He felt warm as his mechanisms whirred in excitement, heating his chassis. “I needed to see you before your attention is taken by,” he sends the blackjack dealer a sidelong glance. “Rifraff.” You chuckled as you set about preparing your work station, rolling your eyes.
“Alright, big fella,” you muse. “What's on your mind?”
“I have a surprise for you,” Eclipse declares cooly. You cock your head and his mechanisms whirr again in affection. “Meet me after your shift. Mr Emily has plans that he doesn't need me for and I’d like to give you your surprise then.” He explains, having leaned close as if sharing a secret. You search his face, unsure of him and his intentions, and he likes how easy you are for him to read.
“Alright,” you finally concede and his sharp grin grows sharper.
“Peachy,” he answers as he straightens up again. “Don’t try to leave,” he warns in a warmer tone than he'd ever used with those words before. He didnt stay to see your reaction, your sputter audible even with the distance he was putting between the two of you.
*
He didn't know the way the anticipation that he had gifted you had taken hold of your mind and nerves. He’d hoped, of course. He liked to play with your feelings and the way your body reacted to your emotions. He was even more pleased when your twittering heart couldn't keep the nervousness or excitement from him as he held open the door to the suite.
“Are you sure its okay that I’m here?” You'd asked as you stepped inside under the long arm that made a doorway in the pre existing doorway for you alone.
“Mouse,” he cooed with a sharp grin. “Don’t you trust me?” And the swift glance you'd given him, the way your lips pressed into a tight line shortly, it was all delightful to the robot. He shut the door, turning the lock to ensure there would be no surprise visits he didn't have time to intercede.
“What's this surprise?” You ask when he turns to you, your arms folded loosely over your chest as you stand in the middle of the room to avoid touching anything. Eclipse approaches, taking in all your microexpressions with delight he could barely hide as his components worked themselves up.
“Sit first,” he encourages as he takes you by the arm, leading you to a velvet chaise lounge that definitely cost more than you'd make in a year where he proceeded to push you into sitting on it.
“Always so handsy,” you huffed. “You can just ask me to do something, you don't have to make me.” You chuff with furrowed brows as you rubbed at where hed manhandled you. He seemingly ignores you as he crosses the room to a closet and produces a short rectangular box easily recognized as a gift box for garments. He returns to you with the box and sets it on your lap before joining you on the couch, lowering himself onto the plush cushion and twisting to face you.
“Open it,” he instructs but keeps his hands to himself. He watches as your gentle hands grasp the tails of the red ribbon wrapped around the simple white cardboard box, pausing to rub the material between delicate (compared to his) fingers.
“Soft,” you mutter and he feels more confident in his choice as you tug the knot free and slip the ribbon off. You set it aside and he takes note of your seeming reluctance to part with the material. Then you're lifting the lid with the sound of a snug fit falling loose and a sort of suction being released as the lid comes free in your hands.
“Oh,” you say as you set the lid aside and take hold of the garment nestled in a layer of plain tissue paper. The crinkling of the nearly sheer paper is not enough to cover the excited hum of Eclipse's mechanisms or the hiss of his exhausts. You hold the garment up before you, staring with wide eyes. “Eclipse,” you breathe before looking at him. “This is too much,” you say even as you pull the material close to feel how soft it is against your skin. Your heart beat slowed with your enamourment over the material beneath your fingertips. “Its like a cloud,” you muse as you set it down to run your fingers along it more. “Smooth like butter,” you murmur. Evidently, Eclipse is pleased with your assessment.
“Well mouse?” He presses as you continue to admire the garment. Your eyes meet his and a torn look crosses your face.
“This is too much,” you repeat. But before he can begin to protest, a small smile graces your lips as your gaze returns to the garment. “Thank you.” His mechanisms pick up speed and steam escapes from under the collar of his shirt.
“Put it on,” he encourages and you scoff.
“Oh no,” you say, setting the item back into the box. “I am dirty and stinky after a long shift, I reek of sweat and alcohol.”
“Well,” he muses, sliding his hand along the back if the couch before following suit so that his arm sits comfortably behind you with him at your side. He leans down so his sharp smile grazes your ear. “Henry won't be back for some time. He won't mind if you use the facilities.” His artificial break is hot on your neck, his presence imposing in the way he knew you liked. Your heart beat had shattered into that excited rhythm. There were many things you never had to say with words for eclipse to hear you. He took the box from your hand with a gentleness reserved for very special occasions as he dragged teeth along your neck, setting the opened box on the low lying coffee table.
“C’mon little mousey,” he growled softly against your neck, relishing in the way your heart stuttered with a shaky breath, a large clawed hand finding its way to your clothed thigh. “I want to see you try it on.” The way his claw-like finger tips drag along the fabric of your slacks, briefly catching on the threads in his wake, had you steeling yourself.
“Alright,” you say with as even a tone as you can manage with your heart in your throat and excitement tickling your core. It was almost embarrassing how little work he had to do to get you riled in any regard. You stood, slipping off your suspenders as you crossed the room to the door you knew by now held the bathroom. He wouldn’t follow, you knew that much. As mush as your relationship had grown, as much as it has transformed from something purely physical to something with feelings involved, you had both agreed that a shower was too intimate and dangerous to share. You could, however, do your best with your psuedo-casual strip tease to use the situation against him. If he wanted to rile you up, you had every right to rile him right back.
The buckled straps sitting around your biceps came away with practiced ease and you toed off your nice work shoes, leaving them at the threshold of the bathroom door. It was with a quick and intentionally hooded glance over your shoulder that you began to remove your tie and unbutton your shirt.
“I won't keep you long,” you purr before stepping inside to the confines of the luxury bathroom. And there you let the facade drop, along with your clothes into a neat little stack on the counter before you bathed away the sweat and alcohol ash that patrons of the lounge soaked you in during your shifts. Upon exiting the shower, you found setting on the counter was the gift and only the gift. You dried off as best as you could with a hand towel before dropping it down a laundry chute to discard the evidence of your stay and pulled on the beautifully soft cashmere sweater. It was long, resting just below the curve of your backside and providing a shred of modesty. The neck was shallow, cresting along your collarbone and the body- it hugged every curve and dip and roll. It not only drew attention to your humanity, it worshiped it, clinging to it and stretching across it as if saying “behold, the most beautiful creature in existence”. And as if to make this gift a more pointed sign of staking his claim,, the material was in that beautiful dark red that made up eclipses face. “This thing you see is beautiful and it is mine ”.
When you finally exited the bathroom, you saw him sitting where you’d left him, as if he hadn’t snuck in and switched out your clothing. His suit jacket hangs over the back of the lounge, his tailored dress shirt’s sleeves rolled up along sender but powerful forearms, the neck tie loosened and top button undone is such a lewd manner despite its deceptive modesty. His eyes were on you instantly, a wicked curl to his smile as he scanned you up and down. You approached, stepping between slack clad legs, your hands finding his shoulders as his found your hips, rubbing soft and gentle arches on the expensive material.
”Mouse,” he purred as he pressed his faceplate to your temple, a sweet kiss before the storm that was to be. “Do you like it?” He ask as you calmly untie his necktie for him. You wait to answer as you flip the collar of his shirt skyward to release its gentle hold on the soft fabric of the tie, slipping it from around his neck and leaning across him to drape it over his jacket. You'd done this many times before. You hold him in your gaze for a moment when you pull back.
”It’s too much,” you repeat even as you take his face into your hands, pulling him to you and what little resistance he gave, following eagerly, pressing his lips against yours. “It’s lovely,” you whisper against silicone lips, his hands sliding to your back, pulling you close to him as your own arms wrap around his neck doing the same. You hum out a pleased sound when a large, sharp hand takes hold of your backside and gives it and appreciative squeeze.
The “Mine” goes unvoiced but not unsaid.
With nothing underneath, those large and sharp hands has quick access to the flesh barely confined by the material, two impossibly large fingers slipping down and between, quick to tease you with your wants. No matter how gentle he was, or perhaps in spite of how gentle he was, the tips of those dangerous fingers left a tingle in their wake. You never questioned where they were. You shifted closer, one knee coming to rest upon the sofa and as a result, giving that large hand more room. You knew what you were doing. He did too. Eager to please, perhaps, but certainly eager to indulge in all the sounds he could evoke from you, careful but dangerous fingers slipped inside as his mouth held yours captive. For a moment, you'd forgotten he had two hands at his disposal, all until the second found its way to dragging up your inner thigh, your core fluttering around the digits inside you. The juxtaposition of his sharp claws and the gentle caress of cashmere was a delicious sensory experience, elevating your intimacy to more than just a desire for mutual pleasure.
An eager lip caught between blunt teeth, a breathy moan of a name and suddenly, your back is pressed into the plush sofa as Eclipse man handles you with designed ease. He’s steaming for you, warm to the touch as his cooling system works overtime to make up for the excitement. The transition leaves you empty, another sound of need escaping before you can catch yourself. You lay below him, half exposed, and more exposed even as he slides a hand between your legs and presses them apart without resistance on your part.
“Mouse,” he breathed, holding you in his gaze as you’re willfully trapped beneath him. You don’t answer him, your heart fluttering in your chest. You swallow your want, your need, hands in loose fists at your side as he stares with hungry optics. He leans in again, another sweet kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your eyelid. “You look perfect,” he confides. “Better without this thing in the way,” he muses as his hands slip under the material and you cant help but laugh.
”You said you wanted to see me in it,” you tease, a playful hand finding an exposed forearm and pushing it away. He lets out an indignant growl even as he lets his hand be moved away, fingers leaving tiny little scratches in their wake.
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” he huffs, kissing at your neck then as if to persuade you. Those sharp finers trail along your thigh again, scratching gently at the skin as they go before slipping back up under the material to feel your skin. You shiver at his touch, a shuddering breath following as his fingers lightly scratch down your sides, immediately replaced with the soft touch of fabric.
“Eclipse,” you sigh when he does it again only for him to lower himself between your legs to do it once more, mouth trailing along your inner thigh toward your sex but never reaching it with anything but warm steam. He worked you up with practiced ease, fingers scraping lgtly along to distract your mind as his mouth worked you over. Why had henry given this damn bot a mouth and tongue, you didn’t know, but he was far too skilled with it for you to complain. Your hands shot out and fisted in the fabric of Eclipse’s crisp white dress shirt kept wrinkle free by the excited steam he released through beautifully designed vents. Vents you wanted to see even as he pulled off you and grinned down with wet lips.
“You know I can feel your heartbeat?” He muses as he replaces his tongue with fingers. “Right here,” he smirks, watching his own hands as he rubs his fingers over the spot. You whimper despite yourself and those hungry eyes snap to you again. You were getting hot, so hot you were starting to steam yourself.
“Please,” you whine, shifting to pull at the material you had just teasingly scolded him for wanting to remove. It was too hot and you wanted him now .
”oh-ho-ho, now the little mouse wants it off?” He teases as he comes up to kiss you again, fingers once again inside as you taste yourself on him. “If you want it so bad,” he says, punctuating his teasing with playful kisses and excitable bites. “Beg.”
Already well past discarding your pride like your uniform, you tug desperately at the material that's trapped beneath you. “Please,” you whine. “Off,” you plead and he lets out a thrilling little growl right in your ear as he takes your hands in your own. You’re left empty again but at the promise that he will be unwrapping you with care much like you had his present.
“Keep these here,” he instructs as he pushes your hands into the cushion by your wrists with enough force to indicate he means it but careful as to not hurt you. When its clear you’ll comply, despite your needy little whines andhudderes, he starts his hands at the hem, ghosting his deliciously sharp fingers along your skin as up and up he pushes the beautifully knit material. A hand finds its way to the small of your back and coaxes you into an arch for him. He eased the material up and over your head, kissing you as soon as your face was freed again, tossing the sweater onto the coffee table beside you. Fully exposed now without the warmth of the sweater to protect you from the cool evening air of the hotel room, you shudder again.
“Off,” you breathe when Eclipse pulls away, our hands finding his exposed chest and sliding up under the shirt fabric.
“Me too?” He laughs, pulling back and sitting up. You watch as the most dangerous and beautiful machine makes a show of unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and slipping it off perfectly sculpted shoulders. And then he's there again, between your legs, his chest pressed against your skin, warm metal to soft flesh, and he's kissing you, and he's inside you again. you whimper for him, whine and moan and if anyone heard you, that was all the better for Eclipse. Because the gift was him staking his claim. You were his.