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The chair wasn’t very comfortable.
Then again, it wasn’t designed for her.
“That must put painful pressure on your spine,” the synth in front of her noted. Nora looked up. It was so strange so see Nick’s face staring back at her, even if DiMA lacked his fellow synth’s glowing eyes. Which, truly, was a relief. She didn’t need another reason to calm her beating heart whenever she was in his presence.
“I just wanted to test it,” she admitted.
“And your thoughts?” he asked, head tilting.
“It’s so annoying to sit in,” she decided. She slid herself down a little. “The seat is so long. This bit goes up and pushes you to your feet, right?”
“That is correct,” he agreed. “I see Nick is not with you?”
“He needed some time,” she replied. “I imagine he’s wondering what memories he’s lost over the time he’s been out of the Institute.”
“I understand,” the synth said. “And you? Have you given thought to the questions I asked when we met?”
“About me being a synth?” she asked.
“Those questions,” he affirmed. She laughed softly, but it wasn’t a cruel sound and she gave him a soft smile a few moments later.
“No,” she finally said. “For multiple reasons. I remember the bombs going off. Codsworth remembers me. I was recognised from the picture on my driving license. Nora Pendleton was a real person, and I never found a trace of her in the Institute. Besides,” she let out a short sigh, “if I were a synth…they’d have never asked me to become the next Director.”
“You…were what?” DiMA asked, his eyes widening.
“Pre-War people like me have almost no radiation in them,” Nora told him, clasping her hands together. “To make the Gen-3s they needed uncorrupted DNA, and my infant son had the best of it. They unfroze the whole of Vault 111 where I was being kept, murdered my husband, and took Shaun. He became the template for all the Gen-3s. At some point he…he developed cancer. With time running out, he remotely activated my cryo-pod and let me out. I was supposed to replace him.”
“That explains why they let you in,” the synth mused. “I apologise if my questions caused undue stress or emotional pain. I was simply curious.”
“It’s a fair question,” she told him. “It threw me for a moment. But…I remember my life, even if I can’t – or won’t – remember all of it. Court cases, singing in bars, my wedding day…”
She blushed.
“…my wedding night.”
“Strong memories,” DiMA agreed. “I have never experienced any of these things…would you…talk about them?”
“You asked me if I remembered my first kiss,” she recalled. “I’m guessing you’ve never…”
“I have read books on the topic of anatomy, and to this day I keep it handy in case I am ever in a fight and require the knowledge of how to deal maximum damage,” he told her. “But, unless such an encounter has been hidden away on memory disks or overwritten…then no, I do not believe that I ever have.”
She leaned forward as the synth came to stand in front of her, looking at her curiously.
“If the topic is not too invasive, I am still interested,” he told her.
“My husband was my first kiss,” she told him. “I remember that clearly. I met him after one of my court cases. After one of our dates he dropped me home and as I was leaning forward to say goodnight, he wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled our bodies together. He gave me this…this small grin, sent shivers down my spine, and then his mouth was on mine. Nate was one of those people who was warm-bodied, all the time. His lips weren’t any different. They were soft, but he was an insistent kisser, and I was more than happy to reciprocate the touch.”
“I read an increase in your heart rate,” DiMA murmured curiously. “Does this memory stimulate you?”
“Kissing is a stimulating act,” she replied, suddenly a little breathless. “Can you…feel pleasure and such?”
“Nick and I lack the genitalia that the Generation 3 synths possess,” DiMA admitted. “These is…a certain wiring of the systems one can use…it creates an intensive feedback loop, and the sensation is…similar to that of human climax.”
She swallowed.
“I’m a pretty good mechanic, and I dabbled in engineering,” she murmured, feeling heat run across her face.
“Your heart rate has spiked again, my friend,” DiMA told her. “Does the concept of giving pleasure arouse you?”
“Is there a synth equal for increased heart rate?” she asked.
“I admit, my circuits are firing at a faster speed than usual,” he confessed.
“Your processor must be heating up,” she chuckled.
“Your face has darkened in tone, suggesting blood rushing there,” he noted. “This happens in arousal, but also in embarrassment.”
“That’s…to be expected,” she told him, a little shyly. “I was always easy to get a blush out of. I can’t…I’m not very good at…sexy things.”
“Actions relating to human sexual activity?” he asked.
“Words,” she corrected. “I just…I can’t say…things.”
“Pertaining to coupling,” he said. She nodded. “Perhaps you would like to me take charge?”
Her head shot up, eyes widening.
“Of?” she choked.
“Your body is giving all the signals that a female human in heat would,” DiMA explained as though he were discussing the weather. “Raised temperature, dilated pupils, increased heart-rate. You are giving out pheromones. They give the air a particular scent.”
“Wait, wait, are you…asking me if I want to have sex?” she whispered, feeling heat roll through her.
“I am,” he said. “Do you wish to reject the offer?”
“NO!” she gasped. “I mean…you don’t know how.”
“I have researched the subject,” he assured her. “For the sake of the synths in my care. The Institute would not have provided them with the education.”
“O-okay,” she whispered, biting her lip. “How…should I…”
“You should remain in the chair if it is comfortable,” he began. “If not, there are plenty of tables to use around Acadia.”
“I’ll stay sitting,” she murmured.
“You will need to remove your Vault suit,” DiMA added. “I have read that some humans like privacy during coupling. Would you like me to close the door whilst you remove your suit?”
“Um, yes please,” she whispered, sitting up and unzipping the suit. She heard the door shutting as she shimmied it down to her hips, kicking off her boots and tossing the cobalt blue aside.
“Would you prefer to remain in your underwear?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her body.
“I…suppose I could take it off,” she murmured, and seconds later the bra and underwear were in a faded white heap atop the Vault suit. Surrounded by the machines DiMA was hooked up to, the air around her was blessedly warm, and she relaxed into the chair.
“You are tense,” the synth noted, kneeling in front of her. “I suppose if you are made shy easily then being exposed like this must be quite troublesome for you.”
“Oh, I’ll be fine in a moment,” she assured him softly. “So…what do you…you know…”
“Sadly I do not have the correct functioning parts to simulate a heterosexual coupling,” he told her. “Nor do I imagine my fingers to be particularly comfortable inside your vagina. The skin there is soft and sensitive, and my fingers could cut you. Fortunately I do have a mouth.”
“Oh,” she whispered. The cool, sharp metal digits grasped her knees and drew them up to her chest, curving her body along the chair so that the metal ports weren’t pressing against her back. DiMA’s head moved slowly between her dark thighs, and the synth gazed at her exposed sex for a few moments.
“Setting memory drives to recording,” he murmured, and began to press soft, slightly dry kisses against the skin surrounding her sex, lips trailing over the dark curls covering her. Nora’s fingers rested lightly on his head, drawing in deep breaths as he moved to her inner thighs, peppering soft pecks over the sensitive skin.
“Y-you’re recording?” she breathed, as his lips hovered over her slit.
“This is an educational memory,” he told her. A single lick covered her from the base of her slit to her clit. Nora let out a strangled moan. “I will likely need to use this again.”
“O-of course,” she giggled, and then his tongue rolled over her nub again. Her hips pressed against his face, and he kept his metal grip firm on her thighs as he began with slow, pressured flicks of the tongue against her sensitive spot. “Mmm…”
“There are at least 8000 nerve endings in your clitoris,” DiMA murmured. “Oral stimulation is among one of the best ways to arouse them all.”
“G-glad to know,” she panted. “W-why do you…”
“This information is important,” the synth told her, and sucked softly on her folds. The woman whimpered, grunting in pleasure. “Currently I am searching all databanks for information regarding female pleasure. You-”
“DiMA, please,” she whined, rolling her sex against his mouth. “You’re killing me here.”
“Interesting colloquialism.”
A broad lap over her nub had her arching.
“In the Pre-War language of French, an orgasm is called ‘the little death’. Is that what you mean?”
“You’re…teasing me,” she realised, eyes widening. “A-are you…trying to?”
“Is it working?”
“Ugh, I hate you,” she breathed, breaking it off with a moan when he sucked her once more.
“You don’t mean that,” he murmured, and then slid his tongue inside her. Nora bit down on her lip with a gasp and squeezed her eyes shut. The sensation was somewhat rubbery, but not unpleasant, circling her entrance before withdrawing. The tongue was pulled out and he ran it over her nub once again. With her lubricant covering it, there was less friction, and she felt her pleasure growing, heat building.
“DiMA,” she panted. “T-there, please, don’t stop!”
He didn’t. The synth between her legs alternated between hard sucks, long licks and circular flicks, pinning the woman to the chair as her movements became erratic. To his surprise, she changed languages as her climax neared, the slick between her legs gaining in volume. She glistened in the blue glow of the machinery as her hot skin became damp with sweat, and seconds later, her scream of pleasure filled the room. Her back arched, legs tensing, toes curling, her hands scratching him just a little.
He continued to work her until she was pushing his head away, panting desperately. His mouth drew away, and then gave one last, teasing lick that forced her to draw in a hard breath.
“Saving file to memory…isolating…file saved,” he murmured, kissing her thighs. “I calculate that your orgasm could have been twice as intense if I had been able to involve some kind of vaginal penetration.”
“Don’t…sell yourself…short,” she panted, looking down at him. Her blue eyes glittered with pleasure. “That…was…amazing.”
“Thankyou, Nora,” he said. “I would like to replicate this situation another time. This data will prove useful. I believe one of Nick’s hands is still optimal for use as a penetrative object?”
Her eyes widened.
“W-wait, what?” she gasped.
“Ah, of course. Humans do not often achieve coitus in a group of three or more. I apologise if I have offended you,” he realised.
“No, no…” she breathed. “It’s…actually quite an appealing picture.”
“Yes, I see that,” he agreed. “Your heartrate has maintained a constant speed despite having been given time to slow down, suggesting another-”
Her feet found the floor, hands cupping his face, and she drew his mouth to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. The synth’s eyes widened in surprise as their lips continued to press against each other. Nora’s mouth turned rough for a moment until he let out a noise of surprise, gripping her shoulders. When he finally left her lips, his eyes were still huge.
“Which wire do I pull?” she whispered, panting softly. “To make you feel good too.”
His hands had never shaken in his life but he found them doing just that as he guided her fingers into working him into a feedback. He could feel it burning through him, hard and hot, moans dropping from his body. The woman watched him in awe, kissing him as his noises escalated. His teeth clenched and bit her lip, fingers buried in the crook of her elbow, and seconds later, his pleasure wiped him.
His system started up a minute later, and he came to in Nora’s arms, lying on the floor, his head against her breast.
“I was worried,” she whispered, stroking the wires covering his chest. “Was…was it good?”
“It was excellent,” he assured her. “I am glad you allowed me to save my memory file before you induced the feedback loop. It would have caused an error and wiped the file.”
“Do you need anything?” she murmured.
“I am fine,” he said. “However, human coitus usually results in sweat and loss of bodily fluid. I can get you some water.”
“Oh, yes please,” she mumbled, as the synth got to his feet.
“I will never look at this seat in the same way,” he admitted, as he searched in her backpack for a bottle of water. “I shall keep this memory safe.”
She laughed, reaching for her underwear. “It was a little uncomfortable,” she said. “I might…I might take you up on the…the offer of a table. You know, next time.”
“You would like a next time?” DiMA asked, handing her a canister. She took it with a smile.
“I would.” She took a drink. Her face turned red. “…With Nick.”
“I agree.”