Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder
«And now straight over to Detroit with the last news. DPD's finest are at it again! Lieutenant Anderson and his partner, Detective Connor, cracked another case and arrested ringleader Jason Wilbert. The man was involved in crimson dust trafficking, a refined derivate of red-ice. We have live Joss, who interviewed them for us. Joss, back at you».
The journalist's voice spoke mildly as they posed questions, the buzzing coming from the 60" wall-mounted curved television now fading, but it wasn't long after Connor's started talking at the microphone, that a gruff and mumbling noise filled the ample and bare living room.
A familiar and insufferable grunt now caught Elijah's attention.
«God, he's so full of himself»
Sixty was laying against the edge of the minimalist sofa, neck buried in the soft, grey-threaded pillow fixed on the armrest as his LED blinked amber, chocolate irises slowly scrolling down the words on his palm-projected hologram, avidly devouring stories and light-novels one after another, «He's always hiding behind that false modesty and politeness. Ugh, I hate that façade of "good boy" he keeps up. Fuckin' puppy dog eyes and all».
Elijah grinned, and fetching the remote to lower the volume, he momentarily filtered out Connor's interview for the sake of his twin.
Leaning on his knuckles, he got a good look of the RK800 next to him, slender and tapered legs sprawled over his thighs, his own Bourgogne and silky bathrobe wrapped around the fair and mole-studded skin and a piece of cloth conveniently covering his groin, letting his mind wander and his palm lazily pat that the beautifully milky thighs.
It was endearing to see Sixty so absorbed in something for once, a hobby that didn't have anything to do with trolling Discord servers for the sake of it or pretending to be a call-center advertising an erection cream to his SWAT colleagues on a Sunday afternoon.
Despite the android's tendency to over-talk often gave him migraines, it was endearing listening to his recent rants about his last discovery about fan-made content.
«So, while you were watching the news giving a beejay to my idiot brother and Lieutenant Hanky Panky, I found out about this one new author».
His legs wiggled on his creator's lap, getting way too cozy on his pillows as he completely slumped on the cushions, back curling, and feet stretching when delicate fingers wrapped around them, massaging the bridge and pressing his thumbs from the solid arch down to the balls as if that courtesy would have done him any good.
Elijah seemed indifferent by the mockery of the twin –at least this time it wasn't directed at Gavin, and hummed in interest as he hinted the android he was listening, focusing on the feeling of his joints under his thumbs.
«All their shit is good. They wrote fan-fiction for all the series we watched together».
Fixing the glasses over his nose, the thick lenses now heaving and lowering the frame, Elijah tilted his head, keeping a smile for himself, when he felt his toes going still under his ministrations.
«Since when do you read fics?»
It was a genuine curiosity on his side, considering the android always expressed disdain for anything that remotely resembled human interests, the only way to keep him entertained being cuddling together and watching movies and series during sleepless nights.
If— cuddling counted as Sixty being all sprawled over him or using him as a body pillow as if his weight didn't mean a thing.
The RK800 grinned, the hologram on his palm disappearing as he lifted one foot to wiggle it against the man's recently shaved jaw, still soft and smooth from the aftershave: «Since canon sucks ass. Besides, I'm still waiting for Jensen to release the tapes».
«Well, sorry to disappoint you, but you're two decades late, Six», Kamski chuckled as teasingly kissed the hell of his foot, fair skin with blue tinges immediately dissipating at the feeble brush of lips, leaving the android to retract the leg immediately after, jolting in a grimace of tangled embarrassment and disgust: «Jesus tapdancing Christ, Lij. The fuck you doin'?! Don't go all Quentin Tarantino on me, fuckin' hell».
«I have many kinks and fetishes, but rest assured feet aren't on the list»
«You said the same shit about fucking a clone, but you've been coding your personality into a matrix for the last week», smirking in concern, he pinched at his forehead, mindful of the scar beneath his layer of synth-skin and liquid polymers, still barely visible to an expert and keen eye, «You are working on a recipe for a disaster».
«You are chaos impersonated and you sass me?»
Elijah grinned back at him, playfully bantering as he let his palm slide over the slender legs, marveled at the android's stubbornness to fight his own mole-dusted skin glitching out under his ministrations and lovely caresses, a constant struggle with his own feelings to never give in.
His legs sprawled and opened just at the right angle to let the bathrobe sink over his groin and cover that little window opening the creator was aiming for.
Sixty's retort was immediate, as he allowed the man's hand to travel over his thigh and leave gentle and delicate caresses, brushes of knuckles, and fingertips that magically made his skin fade away and his chassis emerge wherever they touched.
«I don't fuck my clones», he spouted in a bite-less statement, leaving an opening for the man to speak.
«Oh. So you fuck your God? Your creator?».
His eyelids fluttered, LED swirling a beautiful blue that contrasted the burning crimson of the pool, lips curled in the malice of a hunter that had his prey willingly walk right into a trap: «Au contraire. I made a God with a stick up his ass all the time, that only played with his beautiful and divine creations, step so low that he wanted to fuck me of them all. Desiring a prototype... that isn't even perfect or beautiful anymore».
Sixty's harsh words contrasted with the soft nature of his tone, but where he expected the mockery of his creator, he saw in his deep blue eyes nothing more than the ghost of melancholy, sadness haunting him as he leaned over, the erotic brushes and strokes of his thighs forgotten as his delicate hands moved onto cupping his face, in a gesture so intimate as they rarely shared them, thumbs pressing against his chin, and palms moving onto the defined cheekbones.
«Oscar Wilde said: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder"»
Elijah's words were uttered in the deafness of the room, peering into the dark, chestnut eyes, his own reflection, the defined features of his face, the untied hair and the long bangs falling in cascades around his frame like overgrown ivy, adoration pouring out of his icy heart for that creature that he pulled out of hell on a whim, and that ended up loving him for some sick twist of fate.
«And you are one beautiful son of a bitch, Sixty. Perhaps... the most beautiful of them all».
Sixty's temple spun in quick amber shades before settling once again on blue, but he didn't pronounce a word as he barely held back an arrogant smile, the persona he hid beneath, the precious shelter for all his genuine emotions, now betrayed by the flaring aquamarine shades burning and lighting his face in oceanic tinges, mirroring his creator's profound irises.
«That makes two of us», he replied without missing a beat, wincing in a grimace when the man rested a palm on his knee and leaned in to meet his lips, the kiss instant and as smooth as a quick injection, fugacious so that it wouldn't leave any witnesses, like a murder committed in a moonless night.
Despite that, Sixty spread his legs in a welcoming and silent invite, and Kamski didn't wait half a second before rearranging himself on the sofa and laying his back against the RK800's torso, lulled by the silent thrumming of his biocomponents.
The fastened beating of his thirium pump was a noise he was accustomed to, and the tenderness of that harsh embrace, as naked legs gripped him from behind and hands sneaked beneath his armpits, to find their way around his chest, almost surprised him.
For once, the android didn't try to squeeze his pectorals, call them names and reproduce trunk honking sounds from his mouth whilst squishing and squeezing them.
Instead, Sixty laid his chin into the crook of his neck, lungs inhaling the scent of pool chlorine mingled with refined oriental body wash, aloe-based creams, and cologne.
There was a gentle press of tongue over his skin for the fraction of a second.
Elijah sighed in an odd shiver of pleasure, the android's antics no more than a riddle to him, debating whether his prototype intentions were a sensual ruse to get some action on that sofa and wreck it once and for all, or if he was merely drooling over his body for the mere purpose of sucking every ounce of perfume off him.
With the television now turned off, the empty, minimalist living room was filled by the sprinkling noise of the small cascade of water streaming down the rectangular silver fountains, a peaceful addition to the room that yet never stopped reminding Sixty of the distant torrent in the Zen Garden of his mind palace; lonely, little mindscape where he retired himself whenever he drowned in deep stasis, diving as deep as a sinking ship, searching for the ghost of the woman who he longed to make proud of him.
What used to be a solitary confinement where he spent most of his time locked up during the complicated repairs that brought him back to life, was now a beautiful place, and every synthesized molecule that permeated the little paradise his mind palace was, was updated, day by day, with a new particular about Elijah.
Details like a new perfume that he caught a trace of between the silky and conditioned strands of raven hair, the ever-present dizzying scent of chlorine and the expensive cologne that he dipped and shrouded his entire body with, an intoxicating cloak that never failed to make him crave the alcoholic solution it left on his tongue, the sensation very much similar to the aftertaste of thirium.
«You taste good», lovely smirking, Sixty let his fingers trail down the man's spine, pressing each vertebra with his passage, just to snatch an almost delighted moan out of him, a groan that almost bugged him for how similar to detective's Reed voice it sounded, «For someone who does all that yoga, you sure have a wrecked back. Might need a massage, once or twice».
«Are you saying this in my interest, or you're planning on turning your back on your creator and breaking all his bones?».
The android's mouth deliciously turned into a grin, a crimson light shining into his chestnut pupils, as he dramatically brought one hand to his regulator: «Me? How dare you even think this lowly of me? I am appalled by this, mr. Kamski».
«You're right, I'm being too sus of you. What a poor excuse of a lover I am», a huff on his hair was enough to get the android to shiver, soft and thin lips now leaning in to move the few, rebel strands off his face and press a kiss on the forehead, around the rim of the cauterized bullet scar, fair skin barely glitching out at the sudden and delicate brush, adoring touch that never failed to remember the RK800 how loved and treasured he was in the hold of his creator, «But I guess I'll take this leap of faith and entrust you with my back, you hornball. Who knows, maybe your hands are good at something else than fingerblasting me».
He chuckled as he felt the sigh of a deep and resigned exhale on his neck: «When you talk like this, you do really sound like your brother».
«Glad you're nothing like yours though», Kamski replied almost immediately, making his case by double winking in the same, half-assed way Gavin did, «You are beautiful the way you are, little gremlin. Wouldn't exchange you for anyone else».
«This gremlin is taller than you»
«Good thing I love when you push me down»
«Careful, or I might take your word and drown you in the pool».
Their barter remained suspended in the crackling noise of the decorative fountains, Sixty lulling himself in the softness of his creator's strong embrace, as his arms closed in a protective shield around his smaller and less muscular frame, and patted his neck, lazily tracing the moles over it and scratching the trimmed hair.
Elijah lazily closed his lids, tracing circles on Sixty's nape, and tiptoed his fingers beneath the collar of the expensive silky bathrobe the android was wearing –a garment that once belonged to him but was now his lover's reclaimed property: «Honestly, I wouldn't mind the breath-play. Wouldn't expect anything else from someone with a choking kink».
«I'm into choking people, not being choked»
Tapered fingers ran across the milky and porcelain skin of his creator, tracing the outlines out his neck, the softly pulsating veins beneath synthetic touch and the throbbing blood that rushed to Elijah's blooming cheeks, a genuine smile now capitulating to his thin lips, as captivating and proud eyes zeroed onto the android.
«What if I smother you with my love?»
A brief kiss was enough to drag a deep and unnecessarily inhale out of the android's lungs, an almost involuntarily seizure now making his hands glitch as he grabbed for purchase around the human's shoulders and sank his mechanical fingers beneath the forest of long and lustrous hair, thin as threads, but oh so pleasurable to pull and tug.
«You're a sap, you know that, right? I wasn't programmed to enjoy this shit that much»
Sixty cupped his face between his palms, and delighted himself with the feeling of smooth skin beneath the sensors on his fingertips, the timid kiss his creator initiated now turning much more savage and ruthless as the RK800 shoved his tongue past his lips, biting on them and adorning with morsels the soft flesh, compelled by the delicate palms sprayed over his chest, insinuating beneath the expensive bathrobe to grasp at his retracting skin and explore the familiar, nacre chassis.
Elijah broke off the kiss first, desperate for air in a shaky exhale, and nervously took off his thick glasses: «Should we bring this to the bedroom?».
«Who is the hornball now, mr. Kamski?»
The teasing edge on the android's voice was always welcomed, and Sixty genuinely laughed when he felt his scoffing and harmless laugh, the man completely collapsing on his chest and plastering his ear to the sternum, hearing the whirring of his biocomponents, evidence of how appreciated his company was.
Gently threading his digits between his long hair, he curled a few strands around the mechanical fingers, and grinned at the pleased humming he got in return.
«If your human frail flesh can keep still a bit more, I'd love to finish reading this story».
Elijah cuddled in the softness of the embrace and the gentle pats over his hair, strokes so delicate, always clashing with the brash attitude the android shrouded himself with.
His free palm now projected a familiar, holographic screen and stories that he read ages before when they were nothing more than a snippet his brother preciously and embarrassingly shared in their late-night talks.
«You are quite fond of this "Rat and Decker", huh...»
«I have never been more in awe with someone's writing. Considering the date of subscription to the site, there's no doubt that the author is a...», Sixty took a resigned exhale, carding his fingers through the smooth hair and now tangling them between the curls he was shaping.
«Human», he then added, almost strained by the fatiguing weight of that consideration, «I hate how damn good their stories are. I have read almost everything they wrote and yet they keep on publishing stuff».
«Seems like your author gained a hardcore admirer»
Elijah mused, cuddling with his back against the RK800's solid body, giggling to himself when he dragged the brunet's free arm around his waist, to sneak a peek at the hologram.
Without glasses on, everything seemed blurry and barely visible, let alone the letters, a grumbled mess of black and white.
He rejoiced regardless when his grumpy lover pressed a kiss on his temple, raising the forearm closer and zooming in the characters of the text, for him to better see.
«Jealous?».
It was the other man's turn to fondly scoff, nape leaning into the hollow of his neck and planting a kiss on the android's jaw: «You do you, horney. Just, maybe try to avoid mentioning this to Gavin».
«Why would I ever tell that brother-fucker about my interests», rolling his eyes, his LED spun gold, almost to reinforce his opinion, patting Elijah's flat stomach with the excuse of getting a good feel at his toned muscles, the layer of a worn-out t-shirt thin enough to allow him to feel more than he usually would, «Gavin wishes he wrote this damn good. You can bet all you want that Nines fixes his reports all the time to make them comprehensible».
On his creator's face, there was now a triumphant, malicious grin, corners of his mouth curling in something that for once, Sixty couldn't quite place, a look that seemed longing for a forbidden knowledge only he was the beholder and keeper, deep, light sapphire irises that for once, seemed to look back on a familiar and distant past.
«What?»
«Nothing. You're pretty when you diss Gavin»
«I'm always pretty».
The playful pout on the android's mug mellowed in the tender kiss Kamski stole from him: «Yes, you are. You're the prettiest fuckers of them all».
Sixty smirked.
«Good thing I found a good match»