Work Text:
Sometimes, Gigi wondered. Contrary to Cecilia’s jokes, this wasn’t a rare occurrence, and it often led to her most successful of plans (in her opinion). But now, she wondered what it would be like to be with a robot.
“I hate how I am the only one you can turn to for this.” Cecilia’s fingers worked on one of the plates covering her bicep, fiddling with receptors and sensors and the other minutiae of robotic existence. She was so used to Gigi’s bursting into her room unannounced that she didn’t even flinch. Or she’d just disabled that response before it snapped one of her joints. “Why didn’t you try Google?”
“I did: Google now thinks I’m looking for a vibrator,” Gigi said. “The ads I am receiving as a result mean I can no longer open my phone in public.”
“Deserved.”
“Slander?!”
“Wrong word,” Ceci said, and finished up with her work, popping the plate back into place. It looked like porcelain, had the approximate texture of plastic, but was strong like metal. Gigi wanted to see if it made that wibble-wobble sound if she wiggled it.
Gigi’s mouth screwed up in an expression that combined deep thought and mild amusement. “Is there a difference between you and a vibrator?”
“I think,” Cecilia glared at Gigi, “we need to kill this conversation.”
“Mechanical, could be multicolored,” Gigi continued, ignoring the obvious signs of Cecilia planning her murder. “If I dropped you underneath my bed, how long would it be before you ran out of power and stopped rattling on the floor?”
“I don’t want to know the specifics of that proposed situation,” Cecilia replied.
“Not really proposed but-”
“I figured.” Cecilia did not need to breathe, but still had mastered the act of a long and hard sigh that denoted extreme disappointment for situations like this; situations that usually involved Gigi.
“If you’re like a vibrator-”
“We never established that, ever-”
“-does it mean you can, like, make other people- things feel good but you can’t feel good yourself?” Gigi frowned at this newfound dilemma. “Can vibrators feel good?”
“I’m going to let you think long and hard about that.” Cecilia stood up. “By yourself.”
“It’s for science Ceci! It’s for the benefit of vibrators! Which benefits mankind, so this is actually super righteous and good to do.” Gigi rolled around on Cecilia’s bed, messing up the sheets and rumpling the pillows. “And good for you, I guess.”
“You’re so kind,” Cecilia said with as much sarcasm as her artificial voice box could allow. Which was a lot.
“It’s just sad that you can’t feel good because you’re like a vibrator…”
“I disagree so much with this statement.”
“Wait!!” Gigi perked up. Cecilia felt cold dread like a caught gear in her lower abdominal region. “What if I helped?”
Ceci could not flush. Her diagnostics told her there was a light increase in her main processor’s temp instead. She sat back down. “‘Helped’”, she said.
“We’re going to fix you,” Gigi said solemnly, “and we will elevate you beyond the feeble capabilities of your vibrator cousins.”
Beneath Ceci’s concealed amusement and mild irritation, there was a twinge in her ‘heart’. Somewhere important, Gigi had unknowingly pressed her thumb down till it cracked.
“After you ’fix’ me-” Again, the rattle, “-will it make you leave?” Cecilia asked.
Gigi grinned. “You will not want me to leave after this.”
Cecilia didn’t really like it when anyone left her; the curse of requiring another to wind her up if she ever shut down. She refused to look any deeper than that, though. “I doubt it-”
“They call me the orgasm-inator, the fister’er, the-”
“Who’s they?”
“Irrelevant!” Gigi’s tail patted down one of the pillows she almost knocked off the bed. Comparing previous iterations of Gigi’s smile to the ones in her memory banks, Cecilia noticed that this one was more nervous than excited.
“Do you,” Gigi inhaled deeply, looked away from Cecilia and down at the floor. There were no carpets or rugs in Ceci’s room; if there was ever static build up it could be disastrous for her more sensitive receptors. She’d gotten used to the tile. “Do you really want to do this?”
Cecilia knew that if she said no, Gigi would back down immediately. They would probably never forget about this situation since Gigi had a memory not for important plans or days to do chores, but for jokes she made that only she laughed at and kept on going past their prime and into their senior years. But Cecilia’s plating, her mechanisms, her entire function and structure and presumed purpose was meant to mimic the capacities of a human existence. If she was failing in this, Cecilia needed to do something about it.
“I want to do this,” Cecilia said.
“Okay,” Gigi said, and apprehension was a human experience that Ceci hadn’t had enough data of to register it in her systems. Maybe she felt it now. “Let’s do this.”
-----
“Is this doing anything for you?”
Cecilia gave Gigi the blankest stare an android could muster, which is to say, soul searing to the point that Gigi flinched.
“It’s doing things to my diagnostics, certainly.” She shifted a little on the bed, noting how the sensors in her thighs picked up the way Gigi’s hair brushed against her plating. It caused an irregularity in her main windup that she decided to ignore.
“Good things? Sexy things?” Gigi palmed Cecilia’s knee like she was trying to both ground herself and appear seductive.
“Pressure irregularity warning things,” Cecilia said, endearment a faint flickering thing in her chest that endured her attempts to snuff it out.
“Is that sexy to you?” Not unlike a nervous puppy, Gigi rocked back and forth on her haunches, eyeing Cecilia’s internal wiring as if biting it in a different way would actually do something this time.
Cecilia rolled her eyes, lips quirking up at the edges against her will. “I don’t feel sexual irregularities in my wiring, Gigi, you can stop now.”
“I just wanna make you feel good,” Gigi whined, forehead pressing against the plating of Cecilia’s tummy, nose brushing against her internals; neat bundles of wires and metallic bits that Gigi could not identify nor name if she was given a manual. A manual with pictures, even.
“The way I feel good is not comprehensible to something like you.” Cecilia turned her nose up. “But good try, Gigi.”
“Do I have to tell you something smart?”
Huffing, Gigi sat up with arms crossed in front of her. Cecilia deemed it better to not point out the half chub she boasted in her shorts, finding that it would mean addressing the warble core processing unit 23a felt at the sight.
Gigi, continuing: “Is that sexy to you? I need to talk math to you to get your wires wet?”
“Number one,” Cecilia raised an eyebrow with the arch precision of the many mechanisms meant to make that happen, “I hope I do not need to explain to you why my wires shouldn’t be wet. Number two, I fear that is something you might be incapable of.”
Gigi cleared her throat and Cecilia feared for her life. “She fibbon my naci till I sequence.”
“Terrible,” was the prompt response. “Atrocious. Get out of my bed.”
“Zero, one, one, two, three, five,” Gigi made a face, “eight, uh, nine, ten, thirteen, twenty- twenty one?”
“You sound like you’re in pain,” Cecilia commented.
“Math,” Gigi gagged, and Cecilia laughed.
She laughed until Gigi reached out and hooked a finger through a bundle of wires, gently unplugging it from where it wound into a socket. Leaning in slowly, Cecilia watched Gigi’s pink (and dextrous and rough) tongue dart out to dip into the hollow left behind. Cecilia’s ‘breath’ hitched, a jolt in her systems that made her legs twitch where they enveloped Gigi’s kneeling form.
A vent exhaled, Gigi’s tongue moving over to a delicate gear set into a component’s framework, tracing the module. She tugged on the wires again, took them between her teeth and gently, so gently, bit down.
“Oh!” Cecilia said, and immediately covered her mouth.
“That’s something,” Gigi muttered, and the concentration on her face mixed with the almost pressure of her evaluatory tone hit Cecilia like a bolt of lightning straight to the core. “Is there a manual to find the clit? The robot clit? The-”
“Shut up,” Cecilia said with no bite, more breathy than she would care to admit. “Do that again.”
“Yes ma’am,” Gigi responded promptly, and Cecilia’s artificial muscles reacted in a cascade to make her shiver.
Gigi worked with the single minded focus of a woman on a mission, teething and licking and sucking and fingering, with the occasional tug and quiet yelp at any retaliatory sparks. Her tail wrapped around the delicate joint of Cecilia’s ankle, the pressure constant, its resultant little notification in the back of Cecilia’s mind somehow a comforting thing.
It was maybe-pleasure, almost-bliss. At one point, Gigi leaned up to lave her tongue over the flat plating of Cecilia’s ‘breast’, and received a blink for her efforts.
“No?” She asked, and again the furrow in her brow was grind in Cecilia’s gears, a good one. She licked again, and maybe this time it was more the visual that did it for Cecilia, more the concept of Gigi trying so hard while ignoring the pulsing of her own need that made Cecilia moan quietly.
The notification flared for just a moment as Gigi’s tail tightened around Cecilia’s ankle. “There?” she rasped, and now her hands were on Ceci’s hips like anchors, firm pressure and confidence leashed only by Gigi’s drive to please. “Was that good?”
“I don’t know,” Cecilia said when she was sure her voice box wouldn’t glitch. “I don’t- I don’t know.”
“How does it feel?” Gigi coaxed, thumbing the slit between her remaining abdominal plating and the joint of her midsection. “Talk to me, Ceci.”
“Electric.” It was all she knew. “Buzzy. Like my motors are going to stall.”
“Is it good?”
The ball joints of Cecilia’s hands brushed against Gigi’s cheek, and she got the privilege of seeing Gigi’s pupils blow open just the smallest bit more, the privilege of seeing her cock twitch in her shorts where a damning little splotch of dampness had formed at the tip.
“I don’t know,” Cecilia said, her new favorite phrase. “I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel.”
Gigi went quiet and Cecilia stewed in her uncertainty.
“I don’t think it has to feel a certain way,” Gigi said finally, reaching up to take Cecilia’s hand. She kissed the knuckles, let her tongue lick over the ball joints to make them shine with spit before her face screwed up in distaste at the flavor of WD-40.
She coughed, continuing even as her mouth twitched from the lingering flavor. “It can be, like, anything. For me, I guess, it’s a fluttery feeling? Like all in my tummy.” Gigi gestured with her tail for good measure, and Cecilia both simultaneously missed the pressure around her ankle and felt warm at how Gigi seemed to dislike the idea of letting go of her hips with her actual hands.
“Is it bad that- that I don’t feel that?”
Gigi chuckled, a stuttery little thing that made her so much more real in this absurd moment, with Cecilia’s main body plating strewn over the sheets and her wiring loosening out of its neat bundles and spit drying on her gears while they searched for the elusive robot orgasm.
“Not at all,” she said, before stilling as Cecilia’s sensors noted a decrease in pressure on her hips. “Did I make it seem that way?”
No, Cecilia could say. “A little bit,” she said instead.
“Oh.” Gigi looked like she was roleplaying as a deflated balloon. Cecilia decided to never put the words ‘Gigi’ and ‘roleplaying’ in the same sentence ever again before it manifested something into the world. “I’m sorry.”
It’s alright, Cecilia could say. “Mm,” her voice box warbled instead as she looked down at the mess of wires and cabling Gigi had made of her, an earnest attempt at her pleasure however uncertain they both were.
She heard a sniff and looked back up again. Gigi’s eyes were shiny, and when she caught Cecilia staring, laughed wetly and dragged her arm across her face. She held it there, hiding.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and hiccupped. “I didn’t mean to- to make you think that you needed- needed fixing or something. That there was something wrong with you; there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re perfect, so perfect I hate it sometimes.”
Ceci reached out to move Gigi's arm, to cup Gigi’s cheek, pressing forward even as Gigi tried to turn away. She felt less exposed than Gigi probably did in that moment, even with her literal internals bare to the open air.
“Oh no, your titles.” Cecilia tried to smile, still thumbing over Gigi’s cheekbone. “What happened to the fister-er? The orgasmer-er? God, I hate how I remembered that one.”
“Orgasm-inator,” Gigi hiccuped, tail coiled tight around her waist. “What if I turned you off then on again, would that count as an orgasm?
“If I turned you off and then on again- you’re insane?”
Gigi sniffled, smiling. “A little bit,” she said. “I tried to make a robot come.”
“Everybody loves a trier, darling,” Cecilia said and watched Gigi’s face explode into red, tail snapping out like one of those slap bracelets.
“Darling?” It came out a bit strangled. And this time the urge to point out the way Gigi’s cock twitched was borne out of a feeling of adoration, with a hint of meanness that she was quite certain Gigi would be more than receptive to.
“It wasn’t the worst experience,” Cecilia mused, kindly ignoring Gigi’s tomato face. “Six and a half out of ten, maybe would try again.”
“Again?” Gigi’s tail wriggled, and she licked her lips in her sudden self consciousness only to make a gagging noise at the lingering WD-40 taste. Cecilia snorted at the sight.
“Scared?” She asked.
“Terrified,” Gigi said with only half a smile.
“Well now we have to do it.”
“So you like to see me suffer.” Gigi raised an eyebrow. “You hate me. You hate me so much, a little guy who tried to find your robot clit without a map-”
Very carefully, Cecilia leaned down. She kissed Gigi very softly on the lips, saved every single sensory input she received like there was ever a chance at loss. When she pulled back, she saw how still Gigi had gotten, how her eyelashes fluttered on her cheek like butterfly wings.
“That was nice,” Gigi said after swallowing thickly. “I think you should do that again.”
“Very greedy,” Cecilia said, but did just that.
“I’d be down to try again,” Gigi said, after they'd kissed and kissed and kissed and Gigi’s lips were puffy and red and Cecilia’s ‘lips’ were a little bit warmer than usual from Gigi’s heat. She lay on Cecilia’s tummy, mindful of her exposed wirings and bits. “I think I could do it.”
“I'd like to know how it feels,” Cecilia said conversationally, which hit Gigi like a punch to the gut.
“Pillow princess,” she accused.
Cecilia gave her a smile, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I will exile you from my kingdom-”
“Nooooo, please let me hit I’m sorry-”
“Never say that to me again?”
And when Gigi laughed, beginning to help Cecilia tuck in her wires and pop her plating back in, with a touch so light and loving her sensors couldn’t register it but interpreted it nonetheless, Cecilia felt as human as she’d always been. And it was good.