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Hal wasn’t as large as Dirk by any means. Dirk was muscular, strong, tightly wound muscles that made rough housing more fair against Jake’s own burlier frame.
Regardless of this, Hal was bright eyed and friendly. They had come such a long way from their past bickering and distrust, and Jake was proud of himself for having helped that.
Hal was beautiful. Noting this wasn’t weird, Jake assured himself, because it was just an observational fact. Hal’s entire body (the parts of it Jake had seen, all appropriate, no more than a swimsuit would allow!) was coated in freckles, and he had a gentle, cervine face with big red doe eyes and full lips that looked soft (from a purely observational standpoint!), framing white teeth. He bleached his hair, but Jake knew from his eyebrows and lashes and the occasional root grow out his natural hair was a fiery red. His nails are a glittering red, manicured regularly even when Dirk refused, because Jake was content to foot the bill for him.
He’s broken out of his thoughts by Hal managing to get him down in the dirt, onto his back, red lipped grin above him, windchime laugh and, oh, that wouldn’t do.
“Looks like I win this round, Jake.”
Hal says his name sweetly. He says it the same way he says the feathery Dave’s name, all affectionate and warm and trusting.
(He shouldn’t trust him, God, he shouldn’t.)
Jake grins up at Hal, glasses askew but still firmly in place.
“So you think, my good sir!”
“Ugh, do not talk like that– Oh!”
Jake has rolled them over, Hal’s brief gloating costing him the upper hand. It is so easy to get Hal on his back in the flat terrain of the farthest part of the backyard, out of ear and eye shot of the house, for privacy, for Hal’s sake, of course, because he and Dirk still did not get along to a troubling degree Jake probably shouldn’t turn such a blind eye to. Hal looks up at him, and Jake shifts his weight and, oh. It really wasn’t intentional, the way his hips pressed against Hal’s, the way his hardening length brushed against Hal through his jeans, a rare occasion that Jake had only barely convinced him to wear for their play scuffle.
Hal stiffens, looks up at him all surprised, brow furrowed in uncertainty, confusion.
Jake should get off of him now, should let go of him and awkwardly say it was time to hit the showers, and they would pretend this never happened.
He should apologize, especially, assure him he hadn’t meant to be inappropriate, to react like this, and that it wouldn’t happen again.
He rocks his hips forward, once, and Hal’s face scrambles through expressions, his pleasant unsure one he wore when Dirk was kind. The tense, near snarl he got when arguing with Dirk. The nervous laughing one (with the laughter) he got when uncomfortable.
Eventually, his face settles on something wide eyed, frozen in place, rigid and unmoving. A deer in the headlights.
“It’s okay.” Jake isn’t sure who he’s reassuring, before he angles his hips again, and he knows from the flinch he is flush against Hal’s pussy through the denim, the only thing separating them being Jake’s horrible khaki shorts and boxers, and Hal’s flared, floral embroidered jeans and–
Did Hal wear panties? Hal sometimes dabbled in the more vintage attire, Stepfordian, teasing Dirk and the past servitude to him. Did the underwear match? Was Hal done in an array of slips and girdles and stockings beneath his pencil skirts and blouses?
“It’s okay,” he says again, continuing to rock his hips, rutting against Hal. Hal makes this pitiful, whining noise, but he does not say no, or squirm, or cry out. He looks stressed,and he looks down, where Jake is visibly tenting his shorts and grinding the length against Hal’s pussy through their clothes.
Hal does not even shake his head.
So Jake continues, pressing his face into Hal’s hair. He notices Hal clench his eyes shut. He feels Hal’s wrists flex as his hands curl into fists, red nails digging into his palms.
“I got you, Hallie.”
Another one of those distraught whines.
“Just– Shh. Just hold on for me. You’re so pretty.”
Despite the fact Hal was clearly unsure of this, Jake saw the pretty flush on his face, down his neck and to his chest, and he practically purrs, pressing a kiss to Hal’s temple, speeding up his– well, may as well call it what it was. Dry humping.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good for me.”
Hal said his name like he said Dave’s. Feathery Dave’s. Feathery Dave who hated Dirk, who came by with citrine glares and treats for Hal, who took Hal on trips and played board games and was so disgustingly paternal Dirk admitted it made him jealous.
“Such a good boy.”
Hal makes a different sound then, clearly mortified by it given the way he squirms, just slightly, but Jake is bigger and stronger and older, and it takes nothing to press him back down into place.
“It’s okay, Hal. I’m here. Be good for me. Just be good. I’ll get you anything you want after this, Hal. Anything.”
He can’t stop himself from talking, and each word makes his dick throb in his pants, makes him sound like more of a sick pervert.
“You name it, you got it. Fuck– That’s it, you’re my good boy, aren’t you?”
“Jake–” He still says his name like that. He sounds like he’s ready to burst into tears.
“I know, I know, it’s okay, baby. Just help me, okay? You feel so good against me. Better than anything.”
Jake speeds up, desperate for the friction to get him off, so he can feel ashamed and filthy and wrong while he apologizes to Hal. He will beg for his forgiveness, he will whip himself at the temple of Hal’s wrath, he will let Hal claw him open and eat his heart, and he would stay dead, it would be just, for this, this violation of Hal’s sweet, childlike trust.
It wasn’t enough. The fabric was starting to hurt his dick, and he deserved that, but right now, he was a selfish, sick fuck. He mouths at Hal’s neck, delighting in the little twitch it got him, the way Hal’s breath hitched, his flush deepening.
“If I let go, are you gonna stay good and still?”
Hal sniffs, and Jake thinks he’s crying. Jake is the worst, he is a filthy monster. If not any time before this, he should back off and go dunk his head in the nearby lake and let the leeches at him.
“I… I’ll be good.”
“Good boy.”
He lets go of Hal, who stays like that, palms up, weepy face turned away, as Jake undoes his belt, his zipper deafening as he finally frees his cock with a hiss of relief.
Rubbing against the denim would hurt.
His hands go for Hal’s waistband, his buttons and zippers, and then Hal reacts.
“No!”
Jake stops immediately, smiling sheepishly, glasses slightly fogged.
“Just– Hal, sweetheart…”
“No, nono–”
“Shh, hey, hey… I won’t force you.”
Hal opens his eyes, and he is crying, mascara running down his pretty, helpless face. He looks betrayed, unsure.
“...Can I– I won’t go any further. Just your thighs, okay? Can I do that? Please, Hal…” He takes one of Hal’s wrists, and gently leads the manicured hand to his cock, hard and weeping precum. Hal tenses at the sensation, staring down at it like it were a weapon.
“It hurts, Hal.”
He should teach Hal to shoot later. DIrk had always forbade it, but, oh, the feel of Hal’s fingers curiously touching the leaking tip of his cockhead was enough to grant him anything he wanted forever.
“If you left me fuck your thighs, I’ll show you how to shoot a gun.”
Hal lights up then, looking up at Jake, unsure, hand slowly pulling away. The betrayal dissipates just slightly, with Jake’s complaint of physical pain and his promise of rebellion against Dirk.
“...You promise?”
“I promise.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can. The second I know Dirk can’t stop us.”
He lets Hal think it over, because Hal, despite his past as a supercomputer and a sprite and an interdimensional demon, was simple. Hal liked getting away, Hal liked positive attention and praise and being doted on like he were Jake’s child, and Jake’s chest clenches as he remembers Hal is younger than him, still reliant and dependent on Dirk, who had created him and Jake is dating Dirk, what is wrong with him? He may as well be Hal’s stepfather–
“Okay.”
He gets Hal’s zipper down and button undone it what feels like two seconds, the jeans quickly tugged down and off and oh, praise the almighty, Hal is wearing a pair of simple, black lacy panties, near sheer, and he can see a small wet spot in them. He wasn’t a complete monster, he wasn’t forcing himself on Hal. Hal was enjoying himself! The evidence was right there!
He has no lube, and his dick is already a bit raw, but there was the barest hint of sweat on both of them, and he was too horny and mindless to care about the risk of chafing his cock.
He presses Hal’s thighs together, resting Hal’s calves on his shoulder. He uses spit to wet his hand, ignoring the grimace of disgust on Hal’s face at the sight, and he strokes it over his cock until he feels he’s wet enough he won’t end up bleeding.
He’s careful as he presses in between Hal’s thighs, cock twitching and another bead of precum drooling down onto the waistband of Hal’s panties. Hal squeaks under him. He’s adorable. His nails dig into the dirt anxiously beneath him, and Jake doesn’t care that the underside of his cock is pressed to the warm, wet heat of Hal’s pussy through those flimsy panties. He’s only fucking Hal’s thighs, it wasn’t that bad.
With what he could see around the panties, Hal was shaved smooth, and the skin there was as freckled as anywhere else. He swallows down a whimper as he begins thrusting between Hal’s thighs like a rutting dog, panting and moaning, petting Hal’s legs and sides and hips, anywhere he could reach without changing angles or momentum. With each thrust, he can feel the way Hal’s cunt gets wetter beneath his panties, can feel his clit swelling with arousal. He was so focused, he was sure that he could memorize the minor details of Hal’s cunt from his cock rubbing against it alone. He kisses Hal’s knee, hips stuttering as he readjusts, looking down at Hal’s flushed, teary face.
“So good. You’re so good for me.”
He was a father figure.
“I’m proud of you.”
Hal sobs, a horrible, heartbreaking sound.
“I’m so proud of you, so good. You’re being so brave for me. You’re– fuck, Hal, you make me feel so good. That’s it, it’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe, you’re safe with me.”
He was basically Hal’s father, was he not? He’d been there when the autoresponder had first been online. He’d help shape the AI that had become sentient over the years, knew all his tells and lies and tricks, like a frustrated parent. He’d helped Hal adjust to humanity, had stayed by Dirk’s side through his worst moments with Hal to comfort the weeping thing late in the night after Dirk had taken his sleeping pills.
He’d helped raise and shape Hal as much as Dirk had. He and Dirk were like Hal’s parents. Hal was their baby. Hal was his baby.
“Daddy’s good boy.”
Hal wails.
Jake’s hips stutter, and he picks up the base, gripping onto Hal’s hips with a bruising grip.
“Daddy’s good boy, that’s what you are. Daddy is so proud of you.”
Hal is getting wetter, he’s gasping, and oh, the poor thing looks so confused and terrified.
“It’s okay, Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s gonna take care of you, baby.”
“Jake–”
His voice is breathless, warbly with tears.
“You’re so special, Hal. Daddy’s good, special boy. That’s it, there we go–”
Hal goes tense, shaking his head and gasping, thighs twitching, eyes wide and mortified, back arched and–
A flood. So much wetness.
Hal came. Hal came practically untouched from Jake’s praise.
Jake cums after him, shuddering all over and practically roaring, cock shooting ropes of thick cum that stained Hal’s thighs, those (rather risque) panties, some of his flat tummy.
Only after he was spent, did he stop his thrusting, panting and letting Hal’s legs fall open and on the ground, twitching and shaking all over, while Hal covers his face, wailing like he’d just been beaten.
The guilt was crashing in quickly, but Jake had no time to wallow in his own self loathing right now. Hal was hysterical.
Jake gets his boxers off, and he focuses on cleaning Hal first, not letting him roll around in the dirt in his despair.
“Hey, hey, it’s– it’s okay.”
Damage control. He had to do damage control right fucking now. Dirk would take his side, but that wasn’t the point. Who knows how Dirk would respond to Hal if he confessed? Or–
God.
There was at least one person Jake was terrified of finding out.
“Hal, shh. You did really good, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble, you’re not gonna be in trouble.”
He’s cleaned Hal the best he can. He puts the soiled boxers back on, because they are evidence, and he gets his khaki shorts back on, his belt latched. Hal continues to weep into his hands, and Jake wants to rip out his own stomach to stop the nausea flipping it now, as he realizes the gravity of what he has done.
He gets Hal’s jeans back on, with little protest despite the near hysteria, and the sobbing is slowly calming down.
“Hal, Hallie… It’s okay, come here.”
Hal looks up at him, tear and makeup streaked face unsure, uneasy, and Jake offers his best, gentle, fatherly smile, opening his arms.
Hal ends up scrambling to him, arms wrapped tight around him, sobbing into his chest, those horrid, full body wracking sobs that make you want to look away in a movie. Jake rocks them back and forth, he strokes through Hal’s curls and rubs circles in his back.
“We didn’t do anything wrong. You– You helped me, you were so very good, Hal. Shh, it’s okay. This will just be our little secret, okay? Just for us. I won’t tell Dirk, and you won’t tell anyone else either, and– And how about Tuesday? Hmm? I’ll go back to the island later in the year, and I’ll show you how to shoot a gun. A rifle. Does that sound fun, Hal?”
Hal’s sobbing calms down after a bit of the rocking and reassurances, and he manages to pull back enough to look up at Jake, hopeful and unsure, frightened. Scared.
Hal was scared of him, of what he’d done. Jake would never forgive himself.
“There’s my boy, my sweet lad. It’s alright, honey. We’ll go shooting Tuesday, and tomorrow, we can go to that little bistro you like, with the heirloom tomato sandwich. Yeah, there we go. There’s that smile. My sweet boy.”