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“Does that have to be here?”
Screwllum tilts his head to the side, a quirk of his that Ratio has learned to interpret as expressing confusion.
“If you’re not opposed to it,” he says, his voice slightly—and strangely—softer than usual. The metal of his fingertips brushing against his neck is cold enough to be felt through his gloves. Ratio suppresses a shudder. Screwllum would notice it immediately, and he hasn’t earned access to such an intimate window into his unrestrained reactions. Not yet. “Question: does she bother you?”
She, Ratio repeats in his head. Not it.
“That depends on whether it is active or not,” Ratio says, a heartbeat later.
Screwllum’s hand travels closer to Ratio’s jawline, heavy yet light as a feather, up, then further up still—his thumb reaches his lower lip, then, an analytical yet surprisingly delicate touch that lingers just shy of seeking a path into his mouth.
“Affirmation: Madam Herta comes and goes as she pleases,” he says, the careful tone of his voice morphing into something closer to casual affection around Herta’s name. Ratio’s breath stutters for a split second, his reflexes failing at catching it on time. He’s rather sure it was enough for Screwllum to sense it—less so if it’s enough for it to matter. “I do not have clearance to control her dolls. I would have a 98.87% chance of succeeding at acquiring it, were I to attempt such a thing. Truth: the respect I hold for her simply keeps me from doing so.”
“May I ask,” Ratio finds himself saying, perhaps emboldened by Screwllum’s touch, “Why is one of her dolls in your quarters?”
“You may—it is not a secret.” Screwllum gently guides him into laying down on his unnecessarily large bed. The mattress dips under the weight of Ratio’s body as Screwllum takes off his gloves. Slowly, as if rushing things was never in his plans. A stark contrast with the heartbeat in Ratio’s ribcage. “You call them my quarters, yet this is but a simple space Herta allowed me to settle in when I visit—it is still part of her Space Station. It is only natural that she would have a quick way to monitor it, when she so wishes. That is the purpose of her dolls.”
“Do you not…” Ratio trails off, wondering how to put it. It’s hard to tell whether Screwllum hasn’t grasped what he was actually asking, or if he’s purposefully withholding his answer to it. The latter feels more plausible, yet it was Screwllum himself who had brought him here—who had turned down Ratio’s proposal to do this somewhere else. Did he simply think he wouldn’t ask? “Stay overnight, sometimes?”
“Yes,” he says, as if he’s stumped as to why Ratio would be confused about that. “I do not require sleep. When Herta takes control of the doll in this room, there’s a 0.05% chance that she will not find me awake. She often gets new ideas for the development of the Simulated Universe in the middle of the night, as well—it is simply the fastest way for her to convey them to me when I’m on the Space Station.”
“Is that really how you Geniuses operate?” Ratio asks, running his mouth on impulse. “I beg of you to never contact me about the Divergent Universe past midnight.”
He scowls, then, closing his mouth immediately afterwards. If Herta were here, he would not have any qualms about slandering the Genius Society. Bonus points if it is directly to her face. With Screwllum, however—it’s always somewhat harder to do so without regretting it at least a little. He doesn’t like thinking about the reasons why.
Screwllum chuckles at his words, seemingly unbothered.
“I was not planning to,” he says, hands splayed across Ratio’s chest. Without the added layer of his gloves, the striking ice of his palms hits him right through his ribs. He hums under his breath, slightly light-headed. “Herta and I don’t see eye to eye on many things, and late-night research might just be one of them. Request: may I undress you?”
“Yes,” he murmurs, his skin itching to be touched further. The cold of metal is more pleasant than he’d expected, and Screwllum is so delicate with it that he might just go mad from it if he lets himself get into his own head too much. “How often does she get late-night ideas?”
“Two to three times per week, on average,” Screwllum says, curiously palming Ratio’s half-hard cock through his trousers—slowly, his mechanical joints applying pressure to all the right points—mere moments before he kneels down in front of him and tilts his head to the side. The sight is nothing short of spectacular. It’s enough for his breathing to spike. “Why?”
Ratio hesitates for a couple of seconds, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.
Eventually, he says, “I’m sure a Genius like you can figure out why by himself.”
Screwllum tugs his trousers down, letting them pool at his ankles, and drags one single finger across his hardening length. Ratio shivers, unable to command his body into behaving.
“I only have secondhand experience,” Screwllum says, completely ignoring his taunt. “Do correct me if I do anything that does not bring you pleasure.”
“I severely doubt that will happen,” Ratio says, a sincerity he hadn’t meant to tap into. He blinks, then, his brain catching up. “What do you mean by secondhand? On second thought, please don’t tell me.”
“As you wish,” Screwllum instantly replies.
When his hand slowly wraps around his cock, Ratio sees stars.
“You’re—” He inhales a deep breath. All of a sudden, the room feels suffocating. “Cold.”
Screwllum hums, his thumb toying with a thicker vein.
“I can adjust my body temperature, if you’d like.”
“Please don’t,” Ratio quickly says, very aware of how desperate he comes off.
Curse him and his idiotic decisions. Turns out he might actually not be any better than all the imbeciles he deals with on a daily basis.
“Here,” he adds, gesturing at Screwllum until the robot stretches his hand out to him. His now neglected cock bounces against his stomach, and Ratio has to hold back the most humiliating whimper of his life. When he finally accomplishes what he’d been meaning to do, Screwllum eyes him in a way that he can only interpret as intrigued. “That should help.”
“…Spit?” Screwllum says, eventually.
“People usually employ the help of lubricants,” Ratio mutters in response, watching Screwllum’s hand, now stained with saliva (his saliva, he thinks, a bit out of his mind), envelop his erection once more. The friction is almost perfect, now, his hand slowly transitioning into a smooth, yet characteristically calculated rhythm that already has his head spinning. “Had to make do.”
“I see,” Screwllum says, as if he’s storing that information somewhere for later use.
Ratio bites back a string of curses that he’s sure the Genius would not enjoy hearing.
It has been ages since the last time he indulged like this. His thighs already quivering, he only takes solace in the thought that Screwllum is unlikely to know how long it usually takes to make a man come.
“Hm?” Screwllum hums, forcibly pulling him back to reality. “Mr. Ratio, I believe we might have a guest.”
“What do you mean by that,” is all Ratio manages before the last thing he wanted to happen—well, happens.
“Oh, dear. Screwllum! I didn’t think you’d be busy at this hour.”
Ratio’s eyes grow wider at the sound—so quickly he almost feels as if they popped right out of their sockets. Behind Screwllum, mechanical eyes staring right at him, the now activated Herta doll cackles to herself.
“Interesting,” she says, her usually monotone voice slowly morphing into an amused one. “I didn’t realize your interest ran this deep, Screwy. You’ll have to give me the details of what you see in him when you’re free.”
“Screwllum,” he lets out through gritted teeth, only for a low groan to immediately follow. Herta’s words have barely registered in his mind when Screwllum hums to himself and squeezes the head of his cock with his palm, immediately overthrowing any chance of that happening. “Did you—”
“Confession: it is in line with Madam Herta’s usual patterns,” he says, casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to be fine with Herta of all people visiting him when he has a dick in his hand. As if he could tell that’s what Ratio is thinking, he decides to give his cock a tug and draw another moan out of him. “My apologies for not disclosing it.”
“You don’t sound very sorry,” Herta says, still standing in the corner of the room where the doll had been resting the entire time. She chuckles quietly. “Humans like it when you match the tone of your voice with whatever you’re saying, you know.”
“Are you going to leave anytime soon?” Ratio snarls, too far gone to regret losing his composure. “Ohh. Do that again—please.”
“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” Herta leans back against the wall, eyes peeled on the two of them. Ratio’s face is burning. “Seems like I arrived right on time for the finale. Why would I lose the chance to see the good doctor himself fall apart in the hands of a Genius like my research partner?”
“Herta, please,” Screwllum says, and for a brief, fleeting moment Ratio deludes himself that he will tell her to leave. “Do watch your words. Mr. Ratio is an honored guest of the Space Station.”
As if on cue, Ratio loses himself in another, deeper groan that has his toes curling and his hands itching to—do something, clearly, he just cannot figure out what, not when Screwllum has no hair to hold on to, nor an actual mouth to suck his cock with, and oh, Aeons, now he’s thinking about Screwllum sucking him off.
And Herta is still there, eyes tracking his every move.
“Of the Space Station, or yours?” she says, and Ratio comes all over Screwllum’s hand so hard he almost blanks out. “Oh, that’s cute.”
“Oh,” Screwllum says, gaze transfixed by the white staining his otherwise pristine hand. “I understand, now.”
For some incomprehensible reason, Herta nods at that.
“Great to hear. I’ll text you a few bug fixes you need to implement. See you tomorrow, Screwy.”
After that, the doll turns stiff all over again.
“My apologies,” Screwllum says, still not managing to actually sound like he means it.
Ratio just stares at him, wide-eyed, not too different from a deer in the highlights.
“It’s fine,” he says, one breath away from losing his mind. “If we’re done, I should take my leave.”
Screwllum nods, yet what he says is, “Counterargument: or, you could stay—if that does not displease you, that is. I have a few issues related to the Divergent Universe that I believe you’d be able to help with.”
Ratio clears his throat, forcing himself to swallow the thought that fucking Herta has seen his dick.
To hell with it.
“Oh, sure, why not,” he says.
When Screwllum sits next to him a little too close for comfort, the cold weight of his mechanical arm brushing against his, neither one of them acknowledges it.