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The sultry summer heat was something Sixty wasn’t particularly fond of, not when his components strained under the seeping sunlight and his fans loudly whirred, skin prickling under the ultraviolet rays hitting his chassis.
But in hindsight, he was glad about putting aside his dislike for the outdoors, considering he gained a one-week get-away from his job, a lovely vacation alone with Elijah, fleeting among the oceanic waves, where the coast and the troubles of their stressful routine couldn’t reach them.
After a steamy night, spent tangled in the mess of linen sheets and sweaty embraces and kissed by a glimmering firmament and caressing moonlight, Sixty emerged from his stasis with an arm sprawled onto his face, human sticky drool all over his chest and his brother’s creased shirt now tossed somewhere on the swivel leather armchair.
Not that he minded —there was still time to clean after their mess, but he still felt a ping of remorse considering how dearly Nines cared about the garment, dubious crusted human remains staining the once immaculate black fabric.
Behind closed doors, Elijah always reproved to be more sheepish and goofier than how he liked to show to the rest of the world, the magazines and media depiction of Mr. Kamski far too alien to how the man acted in their intimacy, dorky smiles, and cheeks always blushing at the faintest hint of a caress or a fleeting kiss brushed on his lips.
Elijah was far from monotone and dull, groggy as he now buried his face in the crook of his neck and mumbled words of affection, one second grumbling a cheesy good morning and trailing chapped kisses along his jaw, lapping with smooches the sharp lineaments of his jaw, and another lazily rolling on the mattress and stumbling to the bathroom, shunning the sunlight filtering through the cabin’s rooftop like a vampire leaving his crypt.
For Sixty, being able to appreciate the vastness of the ocean in person was definitely better than looking at it through the eye of a camera or dusty encyclopedia pages from Hank’s collection.
He lost count of how many movies and YouTube videos he watched with his brothers on lazy Friday nights, exploring the world without leaving once the couch, crashed between Connor’s loud and vocal excitement for volcanoes and Nines’ quieter appreciations of the mountain views, snowy lands that he probably felt like he belonged to.
When Markus tagged along, he’d bring tales of his international trips, stories, anecdotes, and pictures of the places he’d seen and androids he’d helped in the blossoming Japan or the colorful and fascinating Russian, postcards from Europe and Africa, tales of worlds that he wasn’t sure he would have ever seen.
So, now that he had the possibility, he was grateful for letting his creator in control and bringing him as far as possible from his work for once, if that also helped him forget about how much he missed Nines since he tagged along with Gavin in his one-week departure for Chicago, training courses something that humans still unfortunately needed.
Running away from his job might have been a good idea though.
His audio processors found a much-needed relief from the usual bitching and drama that would go down at the SWAT department whenever Captain Allen’s snotty ass came around, stern and annoyed cinder gaze lingering over his messy desk, and dull, inquisitive roars judging and bitching about the umpteenth set of pens mysteriously disappeared from the office in a trail of crimson ink that bled to the bathroom.
So-wrapped in his bloated and inflated ego, the man always ignored how every snapped and munched Montblanc pen and drained tube of glue was mere revenge for all the times he had disparaged and ridiculed the android with his colleagues in the break-room, or unprofessionally shit-talked him in the lockers.
He certainly missed the daily bickering with Gavin and Tina, the awkward and itching way the scruffy detective grew on him now endearing, and the woman’s snarky and witty remarks a nice touch to their conversations, always pulling a timid curl of lips out of his brother.
But as he stepped in the morning’s sunlight, he realized it was a worthy sacrifice for the view he was soaking in, gorgeous blue desert now worth every second away from his colleagues’ dramatic arguments over who should get the recently ordered new computers or from Allen’s fastidious throat-clearing grunts whenever he read a mail from the government, refusing to allocate more funds for useless equipment, often bought for himself and yet filed under work expenses.
If the ocean from the night before was an ominous pit of darkness, a ravine closing in them and swallowing the boat in its clutches, barely glistening under the glimmering firmament watching over them, now instead, under the surging heat of the sun and the iodine salty breeze, was a gorgeous deep azure expanse, white brushstrokes mirroring the cotton clouds riding the tip of the quiet waves, the line at the horizon blurring as the air gradually grew warmer and less humid against his sensors.
“‘morning muse. You’re unexpectedly silent today... Did the sea take your breath away?”
Unexpected palms delicately caressed his waist, protectively closing around it, and Sixty jolted when he felt the tender outline of his creator’s lips pressing against his nape and the seam of his back-port, slipping down his shoulder in a trail of nips and smooches, fingers now spreading against his faux skin and sneaking beneath his saggy t-shirt, a stolen garment from one of the drawers, completely preserved despite it bore traces of being worn only once a decade prior, a long hair still clinging onto the internal side of the fabric.
Curiously turning into his embrace, Sixty realized how all it took the man was a smattering of minutes to get a clean shower and wash away the sweat and mischief from the night before.
Elijah was already wearing his inseparable Speedos, frame pressing and fitting against the curve of the RK’s spine, maybe a tad too proud of how the tight and elastic tissue emphasized his mouth-watering girth.
“I just didn’t think it would have...” oddly gesticulating, Sixty grasped at the air, scrolling his vocabulary to search for a word that would closely describe his feeling, leaning his nape into the hug, head snuggling against silky raven hair, “...this smell? It’s salty and... somewhat wet? Humid, but just not the same way rain is.”
Realizing how expectantly he was being looked at, he offered him a chuckle, relaxing in the hold and admiring the glistening sight of the rising sun sparkling on the clean and deep water in glimmers, naked feet with hints of moles shuffling on the wooden planks of the deck, temple radiating marine gradients and oceanic glows as he gifted his creator a grin of contentment and rubbed his ass against his groin, teasing his endowment.
“I like it, though. Despite it’s a tad eerie that I can see all the fishes swimming beneath our feet. Makes me wish I could turn off the heat signature detector, considering I’m not exactly dying to find out whether there’s a fucking shark waiting to feast on us or being swiped into a fucking tornado. Bitches coming from the sea only bring bad news. You dumb fuckmeats and that motherfucking Chtulhu are the living proof of it.”
His sensors tingled with the warmth of a chuckle huffed on his ear, fingers hooking onto his hips and pressing them closer, letting their bodies slot together and seeking the heat of the night before.
“Not to be a buzzkill, muse, but Chtulhu is just a fictional monster like Godzilla. It’s not real. And Sharknado is just a bad, fictional movie with way too many unneeded sequels and plot holes. People only watched it for the meme, considering it’s produced by Asylum”
“Say what you will but “statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place”,” Sixty curled his nose, and stepping out of the hug, he dramatically pinched his fingers, nudging at the sight they were beholding, in what undeniably sounded like a cheap imitation of his twin’s mannerisms, lips creasing and twirling in a caricature, “Only ‘cause it never happened before, doesn’t mean that it will never happen. Ever heard of Taleb’s Black Swan?”
“Please, spare me bringing statistics in this”
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Elijah dodged the argument before it blew up in another reductio ad absurdum, mindful of all the nights spent on the couch, playfully quarreling whether the scenarios depicted by a movie studio that was long dead would be likely to happen or not, debating of cryptids and animals that were supposedly long-extinct.
“What, you finally realized your IQ is no match for my powerful brain?”
“Nothing that I didn’t know already, muse. After all the times I told you I love you, I thought you knew deeply fascinated I am by you. I might have been the one who brought you back to life, but you’re the one exceeding every expectation and becoming every day something more, further from what you’ve been designed for, but also... so perfectly beautiful”
Happily smiling, Elijah lovingly cradled his face between his palms, gleaming with the joy of witnessing how freckled skin faded almost instantly beneath his fingers, leaving dilated, black pupils glistening in red, and dusted blue heating the android’s face in a timid but grumpy smirk.
“Just look at you... You’re a marvel, love.”
“Whatẻ̵̼̫͘v̵̢̖͛e̵̦̮̍̽r. The sun is melting your brain”
Umber irises shun his attentions now, hiding the pressing embarrassment between quivering fingers, pretending to fiddle with his nose to conceal the sudden nervousness and the unavoidable glitch of his voice, overtaken by emotion, every vocal testament of love on his creator’s side never failing to strangle his thirium pump in his chest, Elijah’s brows relaxing as he offered him an honest smile: “Who knows. Anyhoo, might I ask you a favor, horney?”
Dragging his flip-flops over the deck, he walked to the lounger, puffed chest rising as his lungs filled with the enticing iodine scent of the ocean, tingling salt brushing his nostrils as the waves grazed and caressed the hull.
The chair creaked under his weight as he pulled the bag from beneath the slats and put on a pair of expensive shades, gesturing with a thumb to his shoulders: “Could you please put some sunscreen on my back, muse?”
Sixty quietly smiled, engrossed with the sweet sight of porcelain complexion almost reddening under the sparkling and heating sun, blinding light now bringing out the outlines of the hickeys he suckled onto his flesh the night before, gentle wounds marking his muscles where his fangs seeped into his skin.
“Is this the part of the porno where I seduce you with a very intimate and sensual massage, you get hard, and we end up fucking against the handrail?” he teased as he sat on the lounger next to him, pouring creamy lotion over his palms and resisting to the urging temptation of tasting it, glaze inevitably falling on the protection factor reported over the label, “Wait a minute. Lij, shouldn’t you be using something higher than SPF 30? You’re whiter than paper, a vampire has a shorter history of sun avoidance than you.”
“...Who knows.”
Elijah smirked, holding a gasp in the back of his throat, shoulders jolting with the sudden cold of the android’s thumbs mingling with the dense lotion, as they traced deep, circling motions, and pressed against his shoulder blades, fingers that deftly explored and twisted his insides the night before, now tapping his vertebrae and tracing his spine like piano keys, each pressured point making it harder to hold back a pleased moan.
He was willing to bet the entire yacht that the prototype was probably wearing a mischievous grin all over his face, perfectly aware of his effects on him.
“You haven’t brought anything higher than thirty?”
And yet, Sixty seemed quite petulant in his questioning, an insistence that usually was his twin’s competence, but that rarely belonged to him; endearing for sure, but also a tad unusual.
“Sixs, have you seen my brother?”
The android playfully rolled his eyes, soft and glowing cyan pads spreading the dense lotion down to his loins, mindful of covering every exposed patch of skin: “Unfortunately, yes. I do almost every day.”
“And... a-ah—!” his heart stammered when tapered fingers insinuated under his Speedos and fleeted between the creak of his ass, feeling the hint of a delighted sigh beneath his massages, “I— o-oh, yes... there... did you even notice how tanned he is? He’s an indoor rat just as much as me, but even without sun lamps or carrot soups, he’s darker than me and you together.”
“...I love your cadaveric color, though.”
Elijah heard the tiniest, embarrassed mumble beside him as a kiss clicked against his spine, but he tried to ignore it before turning his face and giving away how silly the android made him blush, cheeks already prickling in rose tinges, heating under the scorching sun, his swim briefs tighter than before.
“Thanks, muse. But I’d love to get tanned too for once,” he added when delicate digits lingered beneath his shoulders, massaging his torso with sticky palms, smearing the remaining lotion over his chest before affectionately groping his tits, squeezing his pectorals, and intertwining his fingers upon them; his once-chiseled body now finally fallen to the passage of time bearing an unspoken charme to the android: “You want to shove your tan in your brother’s face? That’s why you’re willing to burn yourself? To flex?”
“I don’t want morals from someone who is on a daily-basis competition with his twin. And, for the record, although I might not look like it, I have a very tough skin. Elephants got shit on me.”
“I dunno chief. Every time I bite you, it feels like I’m munching on papier-mache”
“That’s just the opinion of someone who crunches marbles for fun. Oh! And talking about sunscreen, look what I’ve made for you!” rustling in his bag, he promptly pulled out an anonymous orange bottle, and brought it closer to his shades, eyes squinting as he read the black Posca pen writing, face now heating up in a cheer and prideful smile, “Android sunblock! I tested it on a bunch of spare bio-components and so long, it always reflected light and successfully protected the chassis and the synthetic muscles from any UV ray absorption!”
He chuckled at the stunned chocolate gaze his lover was now giving him, surprised brows raising at the unexpected and thoughtful surprise.
“For m̸̫̥̕e̷͜?”
Voice breaking in a glitch, Sixty curiously tilted his head, spreading a knob of the compound on his palm, smearing the lotion over the long legs and arms, so that it covered the full extent of his chassis, hiding the flattering manifesting on his face beneath his mussed curls.
“Of course. Wouldn’t be fair if I sunbathed and you watched me through the glass. Unless you wanted to. Then I won’t stop you from sitting in the first row while I’m roasting under the summer heat.”
“I’m fine right next to you. Gotta keep a look on you, just so I can make sure you’re not gonna fry like a shrimp,” the android mused as he cleaned the cream remains off his shorts, every exposed inch of his body now covered by the thick and dense liquid, protective oil forming a water-proof shielding layer from the aggressive and already heating rays, the searing sun burning upon their heads.
Taking a mental snapshot of the radiant and genuine smile Elijah gave him, sweat already pearling on his pristine goatee and the relaxed forehead, he cataloged every facet of his expression: the curled lips mouthing him a smattering of sappy kisses, the dimples forming on the corner of his sky-blue irises, and the enamored, besotted gaze that lay behind his dark shades, melting under the sultry heat as Sixty abandoned his own lounger to clamber on his lover’s, prompting the man to scoot over to make room enough to cling right next to him, still-cold and oily chassis plastering against warm milky skin.
“Can I?” he added in a veil of uncertainty.
Elijah tapped his own chest in an invite for him to lay his head on, and sneaked his arm behind his nape, heart skipping a beat when the android merrily curled against him, every inch of mole-dusted complexion fading away as he plastered to the human’s heating flesh, sitting on his side, on the edge of the lounger: “No need to ask, muse. You know you’re always welcome.”
“You slapped your arm over my face while you were sleeping tonight. I wanted to make sure”
“I thought you knew I don’t have control over my body when I’m asleep.”
Sixty let his fingers linger over his chest, reveling in the adoring sensation of feeling his creator’s heart pulsating right beneath his palm, every beat echoing in an almost impalpable vibration right to his sensors, sending a soothing feeling of satisfaction and peaceful ease to his thirium pump, synching almost autonomously to his rhythm.
Chilling under the lounger’s canopy, Elijah let the sun warmth seep under his skin, arm lazily holding onto the android and keeping him close as their bantering and his voice slurred more and more, becoming less monologist and more laconic, leaving room to hums and grumbles, lids heavy and chest rising in inhales deeper and slower, as idle mechanical hands caressed his navel and traced the happy trail down to his swim briefs, before cupping away the few beads of sweated sunscreen.
He didn’t realize at first that Sixty’s voice started fading away, but he did notice that at some point, he could only hear the not-so-distant primal roar of the waves, hurling and creasing against the yacht in soft foam glistening against the sunlight, as seagulls flying over their heads loudly screeched.
Bathing under the crystal-clean summer sky, with the comfort of the refreshing shade cast by the canopy and the caressing salty breeze, he didn’t realize until too late how time had easily flown by, and what he originally thought was a thirty-minute nap, soon turned into five hours of deep and undisturbed slumber, as he sizzled under the sultry heat and the scorching light.
If the initial and unusual pricking and itching of his sweaty thighs hadn’t been enough of a clue, now that the dizziness was slowly fading away and the brain fog dissipated, allowing enough clearance to wake up for good, he noticed the android had taken up way more than his now tingling arm, throwing one leg over his crotch and slouching completely over him, embracing half of his torso and no doubt still deep in stasis, milky mole-dusted skin now in stark contrast with what undeniably looked like nothing of the expected result, his cadaveric carnation almost turned burning crimson.
“...Sixs?”
Grumbling and clearing his throat, in a vain attempt at keeping his composure, Elijah caught a glimpse of his lover’s temple flickering in relaxed and intermittent hues, clicking in and out in glistening turquoise shades, an arm idly dangling from the lounger and a palm plastered to his moist skin, stripped chassis glued to his neck to feel and monitor the palpitations of his heartbeats.
Narrow fingers held onto his nape, cuddling and climbing onto his frame no different from their previous night.
Stretching under the tiny portion of shadow, Elijah draped the free arm around his shoulders, fingers trailing through chocolate puffed tufts, mouthing a feeble kiss through chapped lips, lightly wetting his lips as he pressed a tired smooch over his forehead, gently scraping the crease of his scar.
“Sixty?”
The android squinted his eyes, slowly re-emerging from his doze, quickly scanning the mouth that had just grazed his faux skin: “You’re dehydr̷̛̰͝ȁ̷͙̖̒ted, Lij.”
Letting his glowing thumb trace his lower lip, Elijah shut his lids, barely grinning in a tired exhale, every second spent bathing in the scorching heat prickling at his already cerise flesh, the so-yearned tan now a dream dissolving in grains of sand as he realized that he did indeed burn himself.
“About that... do you think Amazon drones can deliver moisturizers in the middle of the ocean?”
“I’ll ask Chloe to send a pack straight away,” bending over him, Sixty brushed the tip of his nose, a fleeting and delicate kiss where he knew there were no traces of burning, his creator’s body now a patchwork of glacially pale and burning shrimp skin, bearing the evident outline of the android’s silhouette from falling asleep over him, shielding the rays from a portion of his leg, half the torso, and an arm.
“Looking at the bright side, now you have your own personalized tan line,” giggling in a grimace of evident satisfaction, Sixty traced his index over the outline of his lover’s reddened skin, lobster carnation now having his body jolt in response as soon as it caressed the line that divided as a watershed the still sane and unburned layer of flesh from the heating and already peeling one, no different from the lambent border that always set apart the android’s pearly chassis from the freckled disguise, “You know, it’s a good look on you.”
His lips curled in a grimace of mirth as soon as the man flipped him the finger, in a rude lack of elegance that rarely suited him: “Go fuck yourself, Sixs.”
“I could try, but I don’t think Connor would be down to that,” deadpanned answered the android, leaning over and licking a stripe of saliva over the long finger, suavely showing off his tongue as he menaced to do the same with the whole hand, “Also, I’m kinda into you, if you haven’t noticed yet.”
Elijah chuckled, and biting back a retort at the sudden pain and itching of the prolonged exposure to the sun, he clambered off the chair, stepping into the discarded flip-flops a few feet from the seat: “Oh my Kamski! You, one of the most intelligent androids ever created, staple-eater and marbles-cruncher, into me?”
Walking in his shadow, Sixty playfully slapped his firm ass, still bearing the signs of the fabric where he slept on, the loud clap against his cheeks reddening them and snitching an unexpected squeal out of his creator’s throat.
“Ow! What was that for?”
Sixty shrugged, shoulders lifting despite the azure burning of his face gave away how actually flustered he was, struggling to keep his voice together: “You’re hot. And besides, you don’t seem to mind it when I’m nine inches buried inside you.”
“You’re a menace.”
Truthfully to his preconstructions, Elijah gave him his back, hiding his flustered blush behind dark shades, but there were no grumpy rebuts as strong, milky arms closed around his torso, mindful of avoiding the scorched patches and whipping him in a sturdy embrace, as cinder lips pressed against his neck, venerating the still-pale complexion: “Say what you will, but you’re the one always enabling me.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, muse.”
As he tangled and exchanged messy kisses under the cold jets of the shower, washing away the burning heat and sharing giggles of affection under the refreshing caresses of freezing streams of water, he let himself lay against his lover’s chest, held and cared for, gently treasured between clingy arms.
Maybe his tan was forever fucked for the week.
Hell, Gavin would have probably laughed his ass off as soon as he sent him the picture.
But in hindsight, it seemed like a small price to pay, for spending the rest of the day pampered with sensual massages and his lover’s whispers of revering adoration, holed in their floating lair.
Soaking in the sunlight, in their little oasis of peace.