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“C’mon big guy, I know you can hit harder than that.”
The sound of Robert’s voice reverberates through the audio receiver of his newly upgraded Mecha Man suit, his harried taunts echoing off the walls of an empty, abandoned jet hangar. He’d been meaning to train sooner, truly, but work and personal life inevitably got in the way— that is, alongside the fact that that the only hero stupid or burly enough to go head-to-head with a three-ton hunk of titanium piloted by a man much too serious for his own good was Phenomaman, the alien hero himself.
Katon-Ur’s fist careens towards its chestpiece in response, the sound-barrier breaking force emphasized with a rather jarring crack. Robert and his mech are only pushed back a few feet, enough to send shocks through his suit and into his body, mellowed out only by layers of reinforced padding.
Robert eyes his sparring partner on a little screen through one of several multidirectional cameras, anticipating his next move. Katon-Ur’s rugged form is as sturdy as ever as he sees it, even after having received a few blows himself. The next punch the mech throws is lazy, a method to gauge whether the alien-hero would dodge or hit back; instead, he crosses his arms, taking the full force of the strike against them and the rest of his solid body.
Katon-Ur is still, for now. Sunken azure eyes stare right at the head of the mech from a healthy distance, surely reading it.
“You know, I’m starting to think you’re holding back on me, Phenomaman.” Robert grins from inside the suit, his taunting mostly for show. He and Katon-Ur had recently begun to revel a bit in the theatrics of their hero work, especially when they were sparring like this; they had bi-weekly, team-wide Magic the Gathering meetups to thank for that.
“I can assure you, Mecha Man—” he stresses those last two words, throwing Robert’s tone right back at him with a hiss, “I have no intention of doing so.”
As if to accentuate that statement, Katon-Ur takes to the air and bursts forward all in one swift moment, knocking into the suit with the full weight of his body. The strike knocks Mecha Man back even further than the last, though he’s able to shift the weight on its feet enough to keep from toppling over. He tries to hit back immediately, which doesn’t work; Katon-Ur dodges this time, bolting upward toward the steel rimmed ceiling.
Mecha Man jumps, flipping an internal switch. He departs from the ground with his jets in tow, following Katon-Ur’s diminishing form, and this time he positions himself above, taking full advantage of the limited space to get a small amount of distance between them before aiming his fists towards Katon-Ur’s body. Once he locks into his target with the digital scope, those fists hurtle downwards in one devastating swing.
That one hits. Katon-Ur flies back much further than Robert had anticipated, his massive body hitting and caving a heap of scrap metal at the far East side of the hangar. The sound he makes is intense, a heave as if the wind had been knocked out of him, muffled by the clattering and crackling of steel debris. Several moments of silence follow the tapered vibrations in the aftermath.
Those first few moments of silence are gratifying, the sign of a successful, winning spar. The next few, however, are concerning.
No movement, no speaking from beneath the pile of rubble. Robert jets over to Katon-Ur and leans the suit close to his body on instinct, adjusting the anterior cameras to get a better look at his sparring partner from the inside. He looks absolutely withered on the little viewing screen, his auburn hair tousled and body outspread across several jagged pieces of scrap. His eyes are closed, chest heaving in shallow, uneven breaths.
Internally, Robert panics, his mind swarming with thoughts that he’d gone too far, even though he was certain they’d be a strength match up.
“Hey, Katon-Ur, you okay?” He asks. No answer comes.
Heart racing, Robert feels over towards the side of the suit, searching eyelessly for the latch that would open his chestpiece and let him out. Katon-Ur had assured him he would be plenty tough enough to take the full force of the new suit, Robert could never forgive himself if he’d actually seriously hurt the guy with it—
Crack. Suddenly, a burst of massive force hits the chestpiece so hard that it lights warning signals on Robert’s control panel. The mech practically shoots to the other side of the hangar, hitting the dingy, steel-framed wall and leaving a massive dent in its wake.
The whiplash of the collision has his head spinning as he stabilizes himself in his seat, but nothing could have prepared him for the wide, cocksure grin that Katon-Ur flashes at him when he flies over to meet him at the place of impact.
The alien-hero says nothing at first, just soaking it in.
“What is— did you just…?” Robert feels like he could lose his head. He’s barely even scathed. “You were fucking acting.”
“Correct, and I successfully toppled your mech suit, as you had asked.” His usual monotone cadence now bares a playful lilt. “That felt very satisfying.”
Robert huffs, his ego bruised just the slightest as he opens the latch to his chestpiece. He’s met with a full view of Katon-Ur’s smug face, gloating in his own very subdued way as if he’d just masterminded a fucking solo mission.
It’s kind of cute, actually. Robert so desperately wants to be annoyed he’d just gotten his ass kicked while he was down, by Phenomaman no less, but seeing that post-battle confidence bloom on Katon-Ur’s gentle face in real time softens him quicker than he can get riled up.
“Pretty dirty trick you pulled there, Phen. Got me good while I was checking on you. Your teammates teach you to lie like that?”
“Not at all, Robert. This is a very basic training principle.” He flits over to the now-exposed hero, meeting him squarely at eye level. “If your enemies have a weakness, you must use it to your advantage.”
“I see. And my weakness is thinking I could ever really hurt the Phenomaman, huh?” He smirks, gathering all of the sarcasm he can muster in one sentence.
“Correct, that is your weakness! My body did, however, receive a few small abrasions, most of which have already healed during this conversation. In other words, your work was not all for naught.”
“Wow, abrasions.” The dispatcher rolls his eyes, scanning him up and down for signs of injury. There are none that stand out. “Starting to think I should train with someone easier. Maybe Flambae?”
But Katon-Ur only frowns in response to that statement, staring him down with all the chagrin of a beaten dog.
“Kidding, kidding,” Robert assures, “I know how much you like our sparring sessions. Although I can’t lie, it is kind of hard to know how much damage MKIII can do when its target is relatively unbreakable.”
“Incorrect. It is not impossible to destabilize me. I have been captured before.”
Ah, right. Robert’s mind wanders back to scenes of several run-ins with Shroud and his gang, some of which resulted in Phenomaman’s capture at some unlucky point in the night. It’d happened at least twice during his time on Z-Team, perhaps more outside of that. His massive, blundering size and occasional broken morale certainly didn’t make it any easier.
“Well, that just means that these sessions can help you out too,” Robert says, shrugging. “Kind of the point of sparring, making both of us stronger.”
Katon-Ur stares at him blankly. “But I am already at my absolute maximum biological level of physical strength.”
“Sure, but in other ways, I mean. Reaction time, for example.”
Robert underscores his point by way of his control panel, swiping the mech’s hand faster than Katon-Ur can react and grabbing him by the body. He holds him still for only a few seconds before unclenching the hand, allowing him to sit unrestrained.
“See what I mean? Can’t get captured if they can’t catch you.”
“I do now see the merit in training my reaction time.” He looks dazed. Katon-Ur grabs onto one of the mech’s fingers, eyeing it as he moves it around loosely, inspecting it. “And if I were to be captured or pinned by something this restrictive, I would certainly need to rely on other skills to remove myself from that situation.”
“Exactly. MKIII probably can’t beat you in arm wrestling or a race, but it gets the job done where it needs to.”
“Even so, your machine is rather strong.” He leans back into the palm, legs dangling over the edge. “Though I bet it helps that it has such a skilled pilot.”
“Aw, you complimenting me to bring my guard down so you can hit me again?” He smirks, now cupping the hero in two mechanical hands rather than one. “Cause it’s working.”
“I promise I am not.” Katon-Ur gives a full chest laugh to that, leaning into the extra support of the mech’s hands. “I cannot say I have had something big enough to hold me in two hands before, much less without fear of destroying it.”
“Yeah?” Robert’s brow raises, taking in the sight of him. He looks comfortable, laying there. “How does it feel?”
“Hm. Feels nice,” he says, “phenomenal.”
Robert can’t help but chuckle a little bit at the notion— it is pretty funny being able to pick him up like this. Of course, Katon-Ur is so big up close, towering near six-and-a-half feet with plenty of muscle and fat to supplement it, but in the hands of the mech, he looks so small.
Robert can barely wrap his arms around the entirety of his body in a hug on a good day, but Mecha Man can fit the entirety of his body in two metal hands.
He looks kind of endearing like that, actually.
“So, you’re saying you like that there’s something I can use to throw you around a little, huh?” He flourishes his voice with a suggestive undertone, moving the thumb across his body and tipping it under his chin to pull his gaze upward. “Good to know.”
The reaction Katon-Ur gives is a treat to see, slowly but eventually catching onto the obvious flirting. He looks away, and Robert can see the hint of a blush blooming across his cheeks.
“Well, it is just unusual that I meet my match on this planet…” he trails off, adding, “I do not have to hold back so I do not accidentally destroy it.”
“That’s true, it can take a good beating before it even warns of a minor breach. Unlike me. Or my couch.”
Katon-Ur looks positively embarrassed at the mention of Robert’s couch, but Robert loves recalling it— The two of them sharing time together on a cold New Year’s Eve, the alien-hero splayed under him on the sofa with an expression curled in bliss, hands clutching cushions so hard he'd torn them apart by the end of the night.
He still needed to get that thing reupholstered.
“At any rate, it would definitely be much harder to destroy titanium alloy like this,” he decides.
“I suppose you are right. Hm.”
Katon-Ur nods slowly, bringing a hand to his chin as he stares upwards. It looks like he is pensive, genuinely considering something for a moment before his eyes meet the thumb of the suit once more.
“Robert, do you think…?” He trails off, giving it a squeeze, “Would you mind capturing me again, like you did before?”
What an odd question. Robert cocks his head to the side.
“What for,” he starts, “eager to get back to training?”
“Indeed, I thought about what you said. I would now like to test your theory on the suit’s durability and my ability to escape its restraints.”
“I see.” Katon-Ur’s expression is hard to read, but Robert has been around him enough to know when he’s got something strange brewing in his mind. He’d learned that the best course of action would be to humor him and see what happens— it’s more fun that way, anyway.
“Alright then, big guy. I’ll try not to break anything this time.”
Robert closes the latch to the chestpiece again, lighting its several control signals inside; he has a lot more access this way, enclosed in the suit with panels containing several cameras worth of screens. He steps away from the floating hero before honoring his request, grabbing him out of thin air with metal hands before pressing his body against the steel framed walls of the hangar. A locking system stills the fingers at their joints around him, keeping him squarely in place. And he can see the man struggling to break free.
Katon-Ur tears at the fingers of the mech in intervals of varied strength, testing them— at his best, the suit’s field analytics system warns of a minor breach, digitally recommending enforcements. At average intervals, it registers nothing but sustained contact.
“Told you, much harder to break.” Robert feels pride well up within him at the thought, pleased with his suit’s performance against the strongest hero in all of L.A. County. “You’re really gonna have to try hard if you want to chip away at this thing.”
But Katon-Ur does not respond to that in the way he expects, now seeming to rest limply under the splayed hand.
“You’re right. I do believe this would hold up much better against my strength than your couch.”
“What?” Robert feels his face heat up again, this time riddled with confusion. “What do you mean by that?”
“Such durability. I think I could get used to this, Mecha Man.”
There goes that tone again, a sly imitation of Robert’s own teasing lilt when he’s feeling flirtatious, now spoken by a massive alien hero stuck under several layers of steel and titanium. And he’s smirking, that same conceited smile from before.
The dispatcher’s eyes widen from inside the control core of the suit, and he’s about 95% sure he isn’t misreading things, not sure if Katon-Ur actually wanted what he thinks he’s insinuating. That subdued, vulnerable position suddenly began to seem very intentional, gaze locked on the very obvious anterior cameras within the ‘eyes’ of the mech head, waiting.
To test it, Robert laughs rather incredulously, his body starting to feel uncomfortably warm. “You know, Phen, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
“I am flirting with you,” he says blankly, “the fact that you aren’t aware is proof that you, in fact, do not know any better.”
Katon-Ur is acting again. And this time, he has Robert right where he wants him.
With just the slight movement of a control-stick, the mech’s thumb slides in between Katon-Ur’s legs, pulling his plush and muscular thighs apart and putting him fully on display. Robert is rattled by how easy it is to do, so used to Katon-Ur as an immovable object— this time, it feels like the alien-hero is putty in his hands.
It’s hard to see his expression on the camera screen, but even through tinny video quality and muted colors Robert can catch the beam of a smile across his face, smug and expectant. A strong, dedicated hero, perfectly happy to exist at Mecha Man’s beck and call. Not the best at flirting, but amazing at saying what he wants— He was hoping for this, wasn’t he?
“So this is what you were getting at when you said you wanted to test its durability?” He feels incredulous, but he’d be an idiot not to humor him and the little show he is putting on.
“Guess it makes sense. You’ve been awfully flirtatious today.”
He can hear Katon-Ur mumble in response, nodding, his eyes screwing shut almost immediately when he feels the metallic fingers graze the more sensitive parts of his body. A hand reaches out to clutch at the cold and rigid machine.
“I-I was wondering when you would catch my ‘signals,’ as I’ve heard them called.’
“Funny. Looks like I’ve found your weakness this time.”
Robert doesn't move the controls. He twists the head of the mech to gaze down at the other man, maximizing the scope of the anterior cameras to get a full view of the scene playing out before him. That thumb stays right where it is, resting at the meat of his thigh and pushing inwards just enough to make him shiver. He can see several angles through the multidirectional camera system, every beautiful way he’s splayed out and yearning.
“So then, what’ll it be?” Robert teases, taking his hands off of the controls. If he’s going to do this, he needs to hear him say it out loud. “We’re still training, after all, aren’t we? So tell me what you really want to do.”
“Mmh, yes…” The sound comes out like an indiscernible hiss between his teeth. Katon-Ur looks delirious, vulnerable gaze directed towards the anterior cameras, pleading. “Robert, please…”
“Come on, big guy. Loud and clear.”
“Please,” he starts again, swallowing back whatever shame he could have possibly had left, “Touch me, and let me experience the full strength of ‘Mecha Man.’”
Good enough for him.
“Alright Katon-Ur. Let’s spar.”
Robert pushes forward one of his flight sticks, shifting positions just enough to get better control over the minor, tactile movements of his mech— the thumb of the suit moves inward with a creak, resting gently on the bulge just beneath Katon-Ur’s suit. He can’t do much rubbing necessarily, so he supplements the move with a light magnetic pulse, traveling through the fingers and vibrating into the contact point on Katon-Ur’s body, stimulating him
He catches on quickly, rubbing up against it— Robert reads his reactions through several small screens, using the short range tactile controls only periodically to provide a modicum of pressure of his own.
Katon-Ur grips himself rather than the vacant fingers of the suit, reflexively holding himself back. One hand grabs a thigh and the other curled, his forefinger gripped between clenching teeth. With a person, he’d have to do this out of safety, but this is a fully outfitted mechanical suit, and Robert wants to see what all it can take—he twists the flight stick, cupping one mech hand underneath Katon-Ur’s lower body while the other trails a forefinger up the expanse of his chest and neck, only stopping when it nudges at his lips.
“C’mon, it’s okay to use some force against the bot.” Even controlling the massive mech, Robert’s attitude towards his partner is gentle, his soft voice crackling over the receiver. “It can take it, I promise.”
To that, Katon-Ur looks up, his gaze starry-eyed as he obeys that tender command. Removing his hands from their previous spots, he grinds a little more into the force of the thumb, the first fragments of untethered whimpers escaping from his lips as he wraps shaking hands around mechanical fingers. He squeezes, creating no divots but digging his nails as far as he can into the blue-dyed metal.
<Warning.Diagnostic: Sustained contact. Warning.Type: Pressure. Nonessential. Recommended: Steel Plate Reinforcements.>
Robert’s diagnostic panel spits out a string of field analytics at him, showing that sustained and substantial contact has been made, but no breach is detected. Good. He wants to keep this up for as long as he can.
Instead, he focuses his attention on the man coiled within the hands of his mech, aiding his ministrations with soft encouragement. “Very good, that’s it. Doing so well for me.”
His sultry voice falters a little as he becomes more worked up himself, feeling the heat emanating from his own core.
“G-good,” he mumbles, “and your suit?”
“Hasn’t even lit a warning light. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Wonderful, I am not— ah— trying to break it.” He doesn’t sound so convinced of his own words, despite himself. “Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Robert says, smirking. The visual is more than enough to make up for some annoying warning strings. “Besides, you’re doing most of the work for yourself here, aren’t you?”
“A-apologies,” Katon-Ur says, his movements stilling ever so slightly. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Robert cuts him off with the slight movement of the mech’s fingers.
“No, no. Don’t worry about me.” He tries to sound reassuring, but his tone veers on desperate. “I want to watch.”
Katon-Ur nods, understanding, resuming his previous movements. Something about the view of him down there, taking his pleasure into his own hands is just as intoxicating as it would be if he was actually touching him. He looks so desperate and needy in the hands of the mech, occasionally looking up into the cameras with an expression teetering on helpless vulnerability. As if he’s fully aware that Robert is in there, watching every part of him, wondering what he will do to him next.
A beautiful show, all for himself.
Suddenly, Katon-Ur brings both hands to grasp the forefinger placed lightly at the side of his face, eyes still locked on those anterior cameras. From inside the suit, it looks like he’s looking straight at Robert as he brings the tip of the metal finger to his lips.
Robert’s breath stills as he watches. Wait, is he really…?
As if reading Robert’s mind, Katon-Ur takes the finger into his mouth, sucking, his brows screwed upwards. He can barely take it past the tip before he’s whimpering on it, drool seeping out of the sides of his mouth, still rocking against the machine with desperate friction.
“Fuck,” Robert curses under his breath, bucking his hips into nothing— that’s unexpected. Katon-Ur really had been learning him, learning all of those little things that make him tick. He knows that Robert is looking at him from inside his little control core in the massive suit and he’s putting on a show. Robert suddenly feels very hot, legs outstretched at the edges of his seat, watching with ravenous intent.
He wants so badly to push further. He wants to see that man puttering on the brink of ecstasy in so many ways.
“Let me see more of you, handsome.” Robert manipulates some more tactile settings, his mech now pulling at the pieces of Katon-Ur’s suit with the free hand, trying his best not to rip or ruin them with the force.
“Mm, you’re bullying me,” he responds, though his body doesn’t cease its movements; he helps Robert out, pulling the bottom part of his suit off halfway for access before continuing to suck and lick at rigid fingers.
“Not at all. Like an angel down there.”
If Katon-Ur wasn’t so perpetually shy about hearing those terms to describe him, Robert would say them again and again. He really is the picture of beauty, and the dispatcher gets him all to himself this time.
“Really worked up,” Robert assures, “can't wait to see what else this spar has in store for me.”
“Mmph,” Katon-Ur groans, releasing his lips from sullied fingers to respond. “I see… I am happy to hear that you are enjoying yourself, Robert.”
“Always, when it’s you.”
A breathy laugh tears out of Katon-Ur, ruined with pleasure. It is then that he shifts suddenly again, craning his body forward, grasping onto the wrist of the mech as he positions himself on his knees, nestled into the palm, fully exposed beneath the belt.
“Then if you’d be so kind, Robert, I would like for you to penetrate me, but this time…” He trails off, rubbing his ass against the forefinger of the mech, gaze directed wantonly at the front-end cameras, “With this.”
Robert’s breath stills, cock pulsing as his heart beats in his ears. The visual is almost too much to bear through, and he can barely believe that it’s even happening— he can feel himself salivating like some rabid dog in heat.
“T-think you can take it?” Now he’s stuttering, mind clouded with arousal. He almost doesn’t notice his own neglected cock, leaking at the tip. “What if we have to-”
“I’ll be alright,” he says breathlessly, “I have done very well at producing my own lubrication.”
To supplement his statement, he brings a hand down to his wet and writhing sex, the amalgamation of anemone-like tendrils already dripping with fluid. Messy. He preps himself with it, bringing two smeared fingers to his own hole, a sight that brings a florid blush to Robert’s freckled cheeks— how could he deny that?
With slight manipulations of the mech’s controls, he brings forth its forefinger, nudging Katon-Ur’s hand out of the way. He’s only able to press it to the tip of his hole before Katon-Ur practically impales himself on it, taking it halfway to the hilt in one desperate push.
Robert swears he can see tears beading up at those azure eyes, already looking wrecked. He shifts hands so that the alien-hero is upright, rolling his hips in desperate thrusts as he practically fucks himself on the finger of the mech— Robert sends a few more pulses, guiding him, watching hungrily as Katon-Ur tests just how far he can go.
<Warning.Diagnostic: Sustained contact. Warning.Type: Encasement. Nonessential. Recommended: Removal.>
“Greedy,” Robert says. Katon-Ur is full of surprises. “You feeling okay?”
“Haah, wonderful,” he says, “I hope you are feeling wonderful as well.”
“Really enjoying the show,” he responds. “Doing so good down there, baby.”
It’s not a lie, he’s worked up to a tipping point, but almost painfully so— the strain of his cock against his boxers is becoming more and more impossible to ignore. The mech’s interior seat doesn’t give him much to rub up against, a design choice that is admittedly good for its intended purpose, but frustrating as hell at the moment. He can only press his thighs together and grind his hips into the leather of the seat while his hands are fully occupied at the control panels.
It’s all worth it to see Katon-Ur like this, though, taken care of and fully on display for him to indulge.
“Bring me closer—” Katon-Ur pleads in disheveled sounds, still rolling his hips as the desperate words tumble forth, “I need to hold you, I need… I need you, Mecha Man.”
Having him use his hero name in this situation sends warm sparks through his rattled body. “Mmm c’mere then. Kiss me.”
He brings the hero up to the hood of MKIII; it’s rounded at the top, with cameras embedded in the eyes and a few flourishes to the head and neck, adding Robert’s own flavor to its design. It has no lips moulded into the design, but that matters very little to Katon-Ur who complies readily with the request, bringing his lips to the cool, blue surface with desperate intensity.
He likes the kissing—Even like this, it’s always been Katon-Ur’s favorite part. The visual of soft lips against the cold exterior of the mech-head is deliciously erotic, though it leaves Robert wanting; he wants those lips on his own, to feel the curve of his body in his hands, to run fingers through sabled hair and drink those reactions into himself.
Instead, he keeps pressing him, keeps watching him fuck himself with those massive metal hands, sweat beading up on his forehead as he bites his lip to the point of pain. Because despite Robert’s painful arousal and how badly he wants more, it’s his turn to show some restraint, and to give Katon-Ur everything he and his mech have to offer.
That, and because he loves the theatrics of it all, of course.
“Gorgeous down there, Katon-Ur, dammit,” he can’t even hide his obvious enjoyment behind a crooning voice at this point, “Fuck. You hear me in here? I can’t get enough of you.”
“Robert, hah…” Katon-Ur mumbles against the mech’s head, barely comprehensible, “Thank you. Thank you, you feel incredible inside of me—”
Those words from the alien-hero rip a whimper out of Robert, his cock pulsing at the thought of Katon-Ur referring to Robert’s mech as him, as if he’s providing anything more than a few presses of a button. The little control room feels like a sauna at this point, he’s on the verge of losing control, hands shaking and palms slick with sweat.
“Please, Robert, please.” Katon-Ur speaks his name as if it were that of a deity, looking up at the cameras with tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “I am very— very close to—” He cuts himself off with a moan, arching back as he continues to chase his own climax.
Of course, the begging drives Robert wild. He hadn’t truly grasped just how much Katon-Ur had been holding back all of their previous times together until seeing him fully wrecked like this underneath the mech, grinding against it with his full weight, untethered. The view of him desperately fucking against its fingers and holding onto the headpiece as he begs for more in broken sobs has Robert falling apart at the seams.
God, he really is beautiful. In the desperate fog of arousal, he can’t help but think of how beautiful he looks down there.
Maybe he’d tell him more often.
“Fuck, ahh…!” Robert’s voice is wrecked with helplessness as a warm-and-cool feeling washes over his entire body unexpectedly, vibrating from his core. He comes, painting the inside of his boxers and slacks with the sticky carnage. Stupid, stupid, he thinks, working himself through it with a vile mixture of elation and embarrassment. Coming before he’d even had the chance to touch himself like a horny virgin on his wedding night. A spot appears at his crotch and leaks onto his leather seat.
So much for not ruining upholstery.
Still, he’s able to catch Katon-Ur’s orgasm as it wrecks him soon after, and from this angle, he looks picturesque— back arched against metallic palms, still wearing half of his spandex suit. His sex pulsates and shakes, dripping translucent white liquid from his core and onto the mech’s hands. He looks the picture of bliss as he rolls his hips into the mech just a little more, milking the last fringes of his climax out of himself before he collapses forward, limp and boneless.
There are several minutes of quiet after this interaction, interrupted only by the whirring of internal jets.
<Warning.Diagnostic: Sustained physical contact. Warning.Type: Undefined fluid detected in hull. Concentration 24:1. Assessing.>
Robert sighs, listlessly watching that little message scroll across the screen. He slams one hand over his face, and the other, into the button that opens his chestpiece. It’s not the machine’s fault, but god did he not want to think about pulling those diagnostics later.
When he finally opens the chestpiece, Katon-Ur eyes him restlessly, already back into the whole of his suit; unlike Robert, he’d regained his stamina back very quickly, all things considered. He meets the dispatcher at the edge of his suit, plush and red from the afterglow.
“Incredible. I enjoyed that very much, Robert.”
“Mhm.” Robert returns the smile. “Me too.”
Then, Katon-Ur eyes Robert’s body once over, head tilted in both intrigue and confusion. “It seems you have decommissioned the use of your trousers.”
“Yeah, I just spent thirty minutes fucking you silly with a robot.” His cheeks flush, but he’s a little too mindless to be truly embarrassed at this point. “Didn’t even bring backups. Regretting that now, because we are still… supposed to be training.”
“I think we have done enough training for the day.” Katon-Ur smiles, visage racked with pride. “I shall fly back to your home and procure replacements. Please provide me with the keys. And your pants.”
Right.
“Sitting here alone, in this big hangar, with my shirt over my dick. Cool.”
“Worry not. I’ll be back soon. Sonic speed. I’ll take you home after.”
Katon-Ur offers the dispatcher a peck on the cheek before he leaves, taking the set of soiled clothing with him— Robert sighs as he looks at the inside of his mech, only now having gained back the consciousness to realise what he’d just spent the last half hour doing out of horny desperation.
He’s gonna have to clean every inch of that thing before he brings it back to work, and he hopes to god that Royd never finds out.