Sometimes, Geordi had the sneaking impression that Data enjoyed his transfusions. Of course, the android had explained many times- and would explain many times again, to anyone who asked- that 'enjoyment' was an emotional state, one that he simply wasn't capable of experiencing. That the prerequisites for such a condition did not exist in his positronic net. Enjoyment, anger, sadness, excitement, love- the results, all, of chemical and hormonal combinations in the human brain, of synapses firing and shutting off, webs and melanges still too frighteningly complex for human scientists to fully understand, let alone recreate. Nevermind in a podunk warehouse-turned-laboratory, middle-of-nowhere-Omicron-Theta. Geordi knew all that.
Still. The impression.
There was a bioplast cap on the inside of Data's left arm, just beneath the crook of his elbow. Invisible until it was opened. It swung neatly aside on a hinge, and beneath it there was the port. A little circle of plastic in a metal base, a point of connection for the end of a needle.
Geordi watched his blood pump up into the tube. The pinch in his own arm as the skin tightened, the dull, faint pull. It didn't hurt. There was a tingle, soft, behind his eyes- funny, or senseless, maybe, that during this procedure was one of the few times that the low ache in his temples from the VISOR went away completely.
Geordi could see the exact moment when the blood entered Data's systems. The pupil-lense in the middle of those bright golden eyes unwound, the lids dropped, white-gold lashes fluttering just once. Processing, he would say. It looked more like pleasure.
Data's lips parted, then sealed again, and Geordi watched his head tick to one side, then the other. The halo about his head flickered- pale yellow, like candlelight- and briefly waxed. If Geordi changed the settings on the VISOR to their most basic, to the ones intended to mimic normal human vision, well, then he could see it- how Data's cheeks and lips darkened ever so slightly, flushing rose gold. A warm prickle as, like a human did, blood swelled in his face.
(Beautiful.)
Done and over, the tube and needles sanitized, everything back to normal, put neatly away.
"Thank you, Geordi," said Data, polite and sweet, as he always was. "Your contributions to my continued functioning are greatly appreciated."
"No problem, buddy," said Geordi. A pat on one newly-warmed shoulder. "Anytime."
It wasn't martyrdom, or a sacrifice in even the smallest sense. But that, Geordi thought, was something most people wouldn't understand.
~
Dr. Soong had been a mad scientist, emphasis on the 'mad'. Creating an autonomous artificial life form- well, that already raised a few eyebrows in conversation. Doing it all alone, on some half-terraformed colony planet, leaving hardly any notes, no comprehensible documentation- eccentric, of course, of course. But even then-
A computer that ran on live human blood.
What was he thinking? Most first reactions, when people discovered that particular aspect of Data's anatomy. Or second reactions, really, after: what the fuck?
It was gruesome, it was eerie, it had the taste of violence. The polite people- those who had been through Starfleet sensitivity training and taken it to mind, if not always to heart- hid their expressions of revulsion quickly, but not everyone did. Maybe it was strange, then, that Geordi had never had that reaction, that instinctual flare. Strange that his first thought hadn't been why, but rather how, and that the first time he'd seen his own blood creeping up that tube he hadn't been frightened in the slightest.
Vampire. It came up, that word, swept out of the dust in the corners of the ship, heard in fragments bouncing from wall to wall beneath the engine hum. Said in half-murmured conversation, in clusters, behind backs.
I got assigned to the vampire.
What, really? What's he like?
Scary- doesn't act like a person at all.
Makes you wonder what it's thinking…
There was something predatory in the word. Something that went creeping by windows at night, slavering jaws, hunger and saliva and wolf's teeth. In that way, it wasn't right. It wasn't enough, not to describe him- Data wasn't predatory in the slightest. Had no one offered, were it not available ethically, he would almost surely shut himself down.
(There was once, on Earth, a species of deer that grew fangs instead of horns.)
The how? It wasn't so complicated after all. Like a human circulatory system- for thermal regulation, energy transfer, lubrication of some moving parts. Only compatible with fluid of a certain viscosity, that contained a certain amount of iron, hemoglobin, platelets, plasma.
And the why, no one was sure, though Geordi had a theory. He had read the biographies on Soong, he had seen the holo-images, the arrogant young (then not young) scientist. Striking resemblance. Reportedly egoistic personality, enough to alienate him from the scientific community. The equipment Data had for taking blood was cheap, flimsy in comparison to the rest of him- or it had been, until Geordi had fixed it. Like a temporary measure. An it-will-do, until a method could be found to keep the blood in the machine from spoiling, to keep it circulating energy on its own. Blood of my blood- like a real son. Maybe less like a son. An immortal rendering of one person, with complete DNA to boot, designed to exist in perpetuity, forever young and forever functioning. Blood is life, and maybe Soong had wanted to live forever.
(Most people knew about the blood- but most didn't know that Data hadn't been finished. Whatever had killed the colonists had interrupted the process. A logical conclusion that was hard to reach, when you saw him.)
(How perfect he was, already.)
Geordi doubted there was any of Soong's blood left in Data now. What was used up had to be ejected, and more taken in. Geordi knew that. Yes, he knew that very well.
(Again- most people didn't understand.)
~
When they met the other android, Geordi saw it- saw them- for the first time.
Well, the mystery was solved, what had killed Omicron Theta? A great inorganic spaceform, pure intent and glittering crystal, sucking the life from the planet. Sipping until it was drained, and hollow, and dry.
(A vampire.)
Lore, when he smiled, suddenly looked nothing like Data at all. He had fangs in his mouth, needle-thin and curved like those of a viper, brought down from the gums over his human teeth. He bared them, and he bit, and red stained his tongue and the corners of his lips.
"You look so dry, little brother. So tame. Are you eating well?"
When it was over, and the imposter was ejected out into space, Geordi had wanted to ask. He had wanted to ask so much he hadn't, because even he wasn't so lacking in self-awareness to not recognize the smell of desperation. Still, he'd thought of it. Long after all other trace of Lore had faded, and life on the ship was moving comfortably along, Geordi thought of it.
He was certain he had seen them once, during one of Data's routine inspections- the tiny ports in his gums, above the canine teeth.
Sheath.
It was very hard for Geordi not to ask.
~
Stranded. A routine return from a conference off-ship, a shuttle malfunction, an engine fire. A damn hassle. The nearest M-class planet was uninhabited, save by birds. Boreal forest, a chill wind that crept in the cave mouth, and a wait of three days until the Enterprise could reach them. For Geordi, there were emergency rations in the shuttle to last a week. For Data, there wasn't anything.
"I will be fine until we can return to the Enterprise," said Data, for maybe the third time.
"No, you won't," Geordi insisted. "We were already at the end of your schedule. If you don't, you'll start breaking down. You're not supposed to operate without it."
"It is unlikely that any of the damage my systems may sustain will be permanent, or irreparable."
(Unbelievable! Stubborn creature.)
"We do not have the necessary equipment," Data continued obstinately, without any force in his voice, anything other than his usual polite neutrality. Geordi was hot and uncomfortable, bumped a little in their landing, frustrated. He could see in his mind exactly what would start to happen to Data, the gears grinding against themselves, unlubricated, the overhot wires and sizzling circuit sparks. The words came out of him in a burst, without his really intending them to.
"Yes, we do."
"Geordi."
"I know you do, Data. I've seen the schematics."
(Don't make me say please.)
Data opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"I do not wish to harm you."
"You won't."
Head tilt, catlike and mechanical. Geordi barely held it in: aren't you hungry? At this point, his systems must have been sending him alerts. White hot pangs of reminder.
"Then…if you are certain…"
(Ridiculous, that reluctance- didn't he see?)
"...please pull back your sleeve."
Geordi did so with all the fumbling enthusiasm of a teenager. There was a tiny bruise in the crook of his elbow, old accustomed, and the blood beneath it thrummed. Held it out, love-offering.
"Ah! I believe the wrist would be the more appropriate location for this procedure."
Geordi thought at once of a location that would be even more appropriate, and then shoved the image away into the blackest depths of his mind. He lifted his wrist.
Data bent his long neck delicately over the skin. There wasn't any breath, but a slight aura of warmth, which sent goosebumps running up and down Geordi's spine. A pause. Anticipation.
Pale lips parted and then closed, dry, over Geordi's skin. A muscle in Data's jaw twitched. There was a flash of pain, brilliant and burning, that lanced up Geordi's spine and went away again just as fast, replaced by that slow, pleasant draw. The flicker, the glow, the flush. Data's throat moved. Swallow.
But when he pulled back- took less than he usually did, and pulled back- that was when Geordi really lost it. His mouth stayed open a moment, and beneath the thin bow of his upper lip there were the fangs, long and fragile and ruby red, full with the last of Geordi's blood. The systems all were whirring. The android form of a purr.
Then they retracted, mechanically clean, and Data didn't pull away- mercy, he leaned in again- and licked the tiny twin punctures in the bare veins of Geordi's wrist. Once, twice, thrice. Neat and precise and perfect.
"My saliva contains both disinfectants and coagulants," Data explained, and lapped away a drop in the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah," Geordi managed. "Yeah, thanks, Data."
Head tilt. Geordi leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.
The little hum he got in reply sounded startled- but it wasn't an objection.
~
"Show me again. Please."
Data hesitated only a moment. He turned his head mechanically to one side, and opened his mouth. The teeth came sliding out as smooth as butter. Well, Geordi knew what was lubricating them.
A little over a inch in length, each. Needles, but not for injection- for extraction. So thin the pearlescent edges were nearly invisible. Gorgeous.
Data closed his mouth.
"What do you mean?"
Geordi hadn't intended to say it out loud.
"I just- I think you're beautiful, Data."
"Ah. I see. Is that why you wish to 'date' me, as you have expressed?"
"One reason," Geordi murmured. "One reason, yeah."
Warm-dark in his quarters, Data knelt before the couch, arms folded in Geordi's lap. A position Geordi would have called impossibly intimate, as little as a month ago.
"...I have never received a compliment of that nature before. Thank you."
Geordi kissed him. He was warm- just the other day, he'd eaten.
"Once more."
Data opened his mouth, obliged. Geordi put his thumb against one of the fangs. He supposed he'd wanted to measure it, to compare- foolishly, he hadn't expected how sharp it was. There was no pain, but there was a drop of blood, red on Data's tongue. Golden eyes widened, the pupils unwound.
"Go ahead. All yours, baby."
The fangs retracted. Data closed his lips around Geordi's cut thumb, and sucked.
~
Geordi had asked Data not to perform. Not to go looking through dictionaries and encyclopedias and god-knows what other resources in an attempt to craft some idealized, 'appropriate' behavioural protocol. Perhaps someone else would say there was no difference- how could a program be 'ungenuine' in a being made up of programs?- but Geordi thought there was. He knew there was. He wanted Data for Data, and nothing else.
As such, Geordi knew that Data was quiet in bed. He arched his back and rubbed his head against the pillow like a cat, and his expression was mild and sweet and, occasionally, somewhat surprised. What surprised him, Geordi didn't have the faculties to ask. It was too captivating, the faint rose-gold flush, the pale yellow eyes, halfway lidded, both soft and sharp. Observing. Someone else might call that expression placid, or even disinterested, those people that didn't know Data at all.
(As it was, again, Geordi knew to call it 'pleasure'.)
Heat and pressure, the steady heart-hum, as powerful as an engine at warp. Geordi was taken inside, energy transfer in the skin-to-skin, spilling fluid until he was drained. Geordi wanted it this way- wanted to give, and give, and give- and Data didn't take. Data accepted, gracious and innocent and without any pride, in a way that a 'real' human could probably never be.
Geordi thrust especially hard and Data lifted his head from the pillow, a little shock of movement- for an instant, there was a flicker of something sharp in his mouth. Like they'd been forced out of him, summoned by Geordi's sweat on his chest and Geordi's hands on his thighs and Geordi's kisses wherever they could reach. A spasm.
"Yes," Geordi groaned. "Yes, baby, please. Do it."
It must have meant something, that for once Data didn't try to pull away. Maybe Geordi had finally gotten through to him.
Ecstacy. Data unsheathed his fangs and sank them, deep, into the soft skin of Geordi's throat.
He drank.
"Love you," Geordi managed when it was over, weak, VISOR vision turned to blurry smears of colour and unfocused shape. "God, I love you."
Data didn't say it back; Geordi hadn't expected him to. He kissed the wound in Geordi's throat, and that meant just as much.
~
When Geordi woke the world was dark- only sound, scent, touch. There was a weight in the bed beside him, pressing the mattress down. Skin as smooth as silk.
Geordi reached over to the bedside table, and put the VISOR back on. A spark, and then the world of light. Data was curled against his side like a cat, head soft on the pillow, eyes closed. An expression of utmost neutrality- maybe, of peace. He didn't look like he was asleep. He looked like a carving, an artist's render, like the stone figures that lay atop certain ancient European sarcophagi. The dead king, or else the restful angel.
When Geordi touched his cheek, the eyes flicked open at once, a nearly inaudible click. Entirely awake. Geordi grinned in spite of himself.
"Good morning. Thanks for waiting for me."
"Good morning, Geordi. And I did not mind."
Geordi kissed him. Data's mouth had a taste like clear water, or new air- and maybe, just faintly, like a certain metal. Like a penny that had been sucked on, kept under the tongue.
Geordi smiled again. He was glad.