Work Text:
Peace talks were boring but required. The factory's resources had never been plentiful, what with the amount of cannibalism most toys had been driven to.
But the earthquake had made everything so much worse.
Most had miraculously survived the initial destruction, only to be met with rubble and cave-ins as they tried to return home.
The lower labs were gone, Sweet Street was little more than a plastic wasteland and any hope of producing more red smoke or poppy gel was long gone.
In the face of losing nearly everything, the two factions of toys unified into one once more. Playcare was turned into as good of a hospital as they could make, strong toys such as Doey worked tirelessly to find survivors, and the leaders of each group were forced into peace meetings.
The Prototype and Poppy were at odds at the best of times, but a fragile peace had been reached for the sake of everyone.
The human arriving seemingly from nowhere was like a godsend. He had gotten a letter about 'finding the flower', only to witness the toy society rebuilding itself. The human, who some called an Angel and some the Butcher, began visiting the factory with his truck full of food and resources.
Something about inheritance, he had once said.
The Prototype felt wronged by the universe, once more. Just as he had gotten close to immortality, the universe itself destroyed his work.
With Theo busy managing Playcare, the only person he could vent to was the Butcher. And the human listened, calmly and without judgment.
Maybe that was why the Prototype's tongue got looser by the day. At first, he vented about the destruction, then about Playtime itself, and finally, he just let out his sordid history with Elliot Ludwig.
And the human didn't judge him, so he kept going.
"I wish I had gotten the chance to grow up to be a man," the Prototype muttered, face flat against the table. His voice box, naturally, chose feminine voices from its archives to speak it out loud. The Butcher shrugged.
"Who says you haven't?" he noted, and the Prototype huffed.
"I have no male genitalia, no body hair and without this voice box, my voice would be high-pitched; that is not a man," the jester noted, rolling his sole eye.
"You thought about not being a man, then? Just 'cause you were born in that body doesn't mean you have to follow it," the Butcher asked.
The Prototype's brain made the sound of a dial-up modem. What? No, that wasn't how it went. You were the body you were born into. The Butcher disagreed, bringing him books on gender and its complexity.
While it was eye-opening, the Prototype still felt a bit wronged by what was done to his body. The Butcher said he had a solution to that, too. But it would involve sex.
And, well, the Prototype hadn't gotten to experience much normal sexuality. The Butcher was offering, so why not?
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With everyone spread out across what remained of the factory, it took a bit to find a private spot no one would come to.
But a dark room in the Game Station was acceptable.
The Prototype watched as the Butcher took things out of his backpack. Some sort of oil, bedding, a harness and a... rubber penis? The jester looked at the thing, tilting his head.
"Hope yer okay with the size, Proto," he said, offering the thing for the Prototype to examine.
He could almost hear The Man's rants about poofs and fags, how sex between men was a sin. But, he decided, he wasn't a man, so he could touch this... thing.
It was a penis in erection, moulded from black silicone. The Prototype had no frame of reference outside biology books and some erotic magazines he had found in the employee lockers. He guessed it was okay.
"Hrm, it is nice, but how will this help with copulation?" he asked, hissing static when the Butcher chuckled. The human offered him the harness, and something clicked in the Prototype's brain.
Oh, ooooh. That's what it was for!
"I assume I need to undress, because while I can't produce sperm, you can," the jester mused, looking for the release lever on his spider body. With a satisfying click, the pressure on his back lessened, and the Prototype slid (mostly) gracefully to the floor. The Butcher stared at him before nodding.
"Yeah, do that. Getting ready myself, too," he said. The Prototype undressed as casually as he could, hoping the Butcher did not mind his scarring and the way his scalp was bare.
At least he still had his mullet.
The way the Butcher was preparing was bizarre. He had undressed and taken the oil and... stuck his fingers in his arse. The Prototype watched the show, very glad he didn't have an actual penis to stick there.
"Don't give me that look, Proto, cleaned it up before I came here," the human noted, not that it did much to explain to the Prototype how this would be anything but painful for the human.
Once the Butcher said he was ready, the Prototype lay next to the man. He was bigger, sure, but he was nowhere near as built as the Butcher. His sole eye went to the man's own penis, thick and throbbing. The sight shouldn't have made him feel hot, but damn it was pretty.
"Can I touch your penis?" the jester asked, trying his best not to sound too eager. The Butcher stared at his claws, wincing.
"Uh, if yer okay with it, maybe use yer mouth instead?" the human suggested. The Prototype huffed, leaning close to the organic penis.
Oh God, the smell was so good, his mouth was watering. Which meant he was drooling. Licking it off, the Prototype focused on the task. He leaned close and swiped his tongue over the head. Salty taste, but not unpleasant.
"Ffffuck, do that again," the Butcher said, and the Prototype mentally grinned. While he had no need to eat, he had learned how to lick things to at least taste them. His tongue slithered out of his mouth, circling it around the penis.
The Butcher's moan was like music to his ears, so the Prototype doubled his efforts.
"Oh, wow, yer good," the human stated, bucking slightly into his tongue. Those words felt like electricity for the Prototype, the jester bucking his... not-hips against the bedding. The taste was good, and the way the human moved made him let out his own static gasps.
"Can ya hum?" the Butcher asked between gasps. The Prototype thought about it, trying to hum. At most, he just spat out static.
"Nah, noisse comes outh off the speakersssh," he slurred past his tongue.
The jester startled when the human poked him on the shoulder.
"Hey, stop, don't want to cum yet," he said, groaning as the Prototype's tongue slithered inside his mouth.
Putting the harness on the best he could, the Prototype looked at the Butcher, wishing he could frown.
"Are you sure you want me to copulate your anus?" he asked for confirmation. Now it was the human's turn to roll his eyes.
"Yes, ya don't have to worry 'bout it," he said with a chuckle. The Prototype grumbled, leaning above the Butcher as he aimed-
"Use yer hands to guide it, buddy," the human interrupted, earning a huff from the jester. But he did as he was told, guiding the tip into the Butcher's anus. He tensed. Once he did this, he was no longer a virgin. He would finally have done what he was supposed to.
Yes, with a man and with a silicone penis. But it did not feel wrong.
With a deep and raspy breath, the Prototype pushed inside using his hips. Obviously, this silicone penis did not transmit stimuli to his body. But its base hitting where his crotch was supposed to be still felt oddly nice. The Butcher groaned, leaning his head against the bedding. The human wrapped his legs around the Prototype's lower body.
"So good, keep going," he encouraged, those words still making the jester's body feel like lightning.
Even if by all the laws of nature, he shouldn't have felt it, each inch he pushed inside the Butcher felt better than the last. Until he reached the end, his claws digging into the bedding from the phantom feeling the silicone penis gave.
"Good, so good, yer body knows what to do from here," The Butcher said, panting.
He was right, the motion of pulling out and pushing in came naturally to the Prototype. He watched at the point where their bodies connected, the motion of in and out, not feeling at all as mechanical as he had expected. His gaze went to the human's face, the minute twitches at each motion he made. If the Prototype angled himself differently, there was a different reaction.
Sex wasn't just a cold, mechanical motion for reproduction; it was like a puzzle to figure out what the other person liked. The Prototype was so focused on the words of affirmation the Butcher gave and studying the human's reactions, that a sudden, all-consuming flood of endorphins and his vision going white took him off guard.
His hips still bucked on their own, making the feeling even better. He was sure he was screaming something in static.
Then he collapsed on the Butcher, utterly drained. The good feeling still circled in his veins, making him want to curl into the bedding and let the feeling go on forever.
"Hey, Proto? You there?" The Butcher's voice brought him back to reality. The jester's answer was a mess of static.
"You did good, lasted longer than I thought," the human said. The Prototype huffed, trying to force himself to continue. But his body refused to let him move.
"Ierghh, you haven't finished yet," he mumbled, pulling out so he could use his hand on the Butcher. The human swatted it away.
"I'm fine, this was 'bout you, Proto," the Butcher explained. The Prototype wanted to argue; he truly did.
But he felt very sleepy all of a sudden. With a grumble and a sigh, the jester buried his face into the bedding, going out like a light.