“You can activate the shower by pressing this button. It’s set to a standard forty-five degrees Celsius.” I pointed to the control panel on the shower wall in his bathroom and waited for him to press it.

The water shot from the wall jets, and Shaun’s smile widened, though he extended his hand. “After you.”

I walked into the long shower cubicle. It was simply three walls, completely tiled, no glass panelling, with water jets down two walls and overhead. I put my head back and let the water massage my head, my back, and my chest, and when I opened my eyes, Shaun stood there, staring at me.

“You are more appealing when you are wet,” he said.

I laughed and held out my hand. He took it and I pulled him into the shower, giving him the line of the water jets. I took the soap recommended for his skin and put it in his hand. “This soap is especially for you. You rub this all over your body.”

“I am not certain that is a task with which I’m familiar,” he said. “Perhaps you should do it for me.”

I chuckled in disbelief and shock. “Is that so?”

He smirked.

“I thought you had extensive knowledge about… everything.”

The water had flattened his hair, which now lay in spikes down his forehead. His blue eyes sparkled with humour and daring, and water cascaded off his chin. “Some things are best shown.”

My God. He was truly flirting. Not even flirting. He was feigning ignorance of a life skill I was completely certain he knew how to do on his own so that I would touch him all over.

He was being provocative. Playing with sexual innuendo and manipulating me to give him what he wanted. I might have been a little perturbed if he hadn’t been wet and naked, smiling like that, and semi-hard, offering me his body.

I knew once this gate to sexual interaction had been opened, it wouldn’t ever close. Once I’d started, I wouldn’t want to ever stop.

“Lean your shoulders back against the wall,” I said, my voice gruff with desire.

His smirk became a smile, and he did what I asked, letting his arms hang at his sides. The water jets hit his ribs and chest and when I rubbed the soap over his chest, he closed his eyes and hummed. “It is recommended I be cleaned after every sexual encounter,” he said in a murmur.

I soaped up my hand, pumped his cock, and cupped his balls, washing him thoroughly. “Is that so?”

His eyes opened lazily, heavy lidded. He looked from my eyes to my cock, then back to my eyes. God, now he was being seductive? “May I touch you?”

“No,” I said, asserting my authority. He kept his hands by his sides. I stood over him, my feet outside his, our cocks aligned. Being with him in the shower and having him be so sexual, I was ready to go again—which he obviously was in tune with.

He would be as aroused as I was.

I leaned against him, pressing our erections between our bellies, and brushed my lips to his. “You like being touched,” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“You like being kissed.”

“Yes.”

“You like to come.”

He flexed his hips but kept his hands by his sides. “Yes.”

“Do you want to touch me?”

“Yes.”

I rutted against him, chasing our release. He would come whenever I did. I put my hands on his hips, up over his flat stomach, his lats, his pecs, his nipples. I used this opportunity to explore his body, every inch, every soft edge and hard plane. He felt incredible.

He might have been an android, but he was all man.

I crushed my mouth to his and he opened, letting me in. His tongue flicked mine, teased and tangled, and he moaned.

God help me, the sounds he made sent me hurtling toward the precipice.

I reached between us and took both of us in my fist again. His arms remained still, following my order, and there was something heady about that. Something that sang to the control freak in me.

I looked down between us, at our cocks together, and a jolt of pleasure shot through me, my orgasm rocketed through me. Shaun pulsed in my hand and ecstasy crashed through me as I came. Shaun’s cock pulsed again, and he groaned as I shot between us, my come quickly washing away with the stream of water.

I fell against him for a breathless moment, and when I opened my eyes and looked at his face, he was staring intently at me. “May I touch you now?”

I rolled my neck, languid and boneless. “Yes, please.”

He quickly wrapped his arms around me, caging me in but cradling me gently, and he pressed me against the wall. I was barely jostled; he was so aware of space and pressure, but his weight against me felt divine, hard in all the right places, yet his lips were so soft.

He initiated this kiss. He wanted it. He ran his hands into my hair, down my back, and over my arse, touching me everywhere he could reach while he still kissed me. And when he pulled away, he cupped my jaw before kissing me softly again, his eyes closed.

“I like showering very much,” he said.

I laughed and reached up to shut the water off. My chest was still heaving and my mind was swimming, my body spent and blissful. I kept one hand on his hip, keeping him right where he was.

It was ridiculous. I’d climaxed twice and it still wasn’t enough. Admittedly, it had been a long time for me. I’d rarely even touched myself since Ian left. In the last two years, I’d had no real desire and the mess was never worth the relief.

But it was different with Shaun.

I was attracted to him. My body reacted to him. I shivered, causing him to pull back. “You are cold.”

“Not really.” I groaned and stood up straight, ignoring my cock for now. “My body likes being naked with yours.”

Shaun smiled, looking rather dishevelled with his wet hair unbrushed. “I like it very much also.”

Reluctantly, I walked out of the shower and grabbed a towel, handing him one too. “Yes well,” I said, drying my hair. “I fear that we may do little else, now we’ve started.”

“I have no objections to that,” he replied, drying himself.

“So, you can dry yourself, yet you required help in washing yourself?” I asked, trying not to smile.

“One can never be too cautious when it comes to cleanliness,” he answered, not even trying to hide his smirk. He held out his towel, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. “If you would like to ensure I am adequately dry, you may do it yourself.”

I huffed out a laugh and tied my towel off around my waist. “I wasn’t aware being provocative was in your programming.”

He dried himself off and neatly hung the towel on the rack. Then he turned back to me, completely naked. His glorious cock and balls hung heavy, distracting my attention. I had to make myself look at his face. He almost smiled. “Playful and suggestive banter is encouraged, is it not?”

“Clothes are also encouraged.”

“If you insist.”

My gaze fell to his cock once more and that familiar stirring began low in my belly. Surely twice was enough in one day. My eyes flickered back to his. “Yes. I insist. I’ll grab your clothes for you. We left them in my room.”

After we’d stripped before falling into bed, I added mentally.

I found our clothes exactly where we’d left them. Which was very unlike me. Normally I would never be so reckless with placement. Everything had a place and the floor was not it. Even with Ian, when we undressed for bed, I would always carefully fold and rehang our clothes.

I quickly pulled on my trousers and shirt, then took Shaun’s back to him. He was standing at his bathroom mirror, brushing his hair. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the briefs I’d bought for him.

He looked down at them. “Are these too small? There is less material coverage in this pair than the last.”

I breathed out slowly and swallowed hard. And oh no, they weren’t too small at all. His bulge barely fit, the white material stretched across the ridgeline of his cock, and showed off his arse better than any underwear ad I’d ever seen. “No, they’re the perfect size.”

“You like them on me,” he said. My gaze shot to his and he smiled. “Your pupils dilated and your lips parted, involuntary responses to sexual attraction.”

I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. “You should put these on or I’ll take you back to my bedroom.” I put his clothes on the basin. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re dressed.”

I left him there and went in search of dinner. I hadn’t realised the whole afternoon had passed. It was dark outside, and that meant we’d soon be going to bed, and oh boy… I was pretty sure I’d be buried inside him later tonight.

“Is everything all right?” Shaun asked.

He startled me. I had my hands on the kitchen counter, my head down, eyes closed, trying to catch my breath. I shot up straight. “Yes, yes. Everything is fine.”

He was dressed now, his hair brushed neatly. He looked so handsome, almost like a mannequin; so different from his straggly wet hair and sexy smirk in the shower. It was hard to reconcile the two.

“This time yesterday, you had eaten your evening meal,” Shaun said, going to the fridge. “Allow me to get it for you.” He took out a small premade meal. “Chicken, vegetables, and rice. Does this sound appealing?”

Okay, so he’d dropped the sexual provocation and flirting and was back to being the overt professional. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.

“Yes, it sounds fine, thank you.”

He placed it in the oven, then set the table. “Please sit,” he offered with a slight bow of his head. “I shall bring it to you.”

I sat in my seat, and a moment later, he placed my dinner in front of me, and a glass of water. Everything was perfectly positioned, aligned, and in order. Then he sat in his seat and tilted his head. “Is something incorrect?” He studied my plate and glass, as if gauging angles and distances from the edges of the table, then finding them exactly right, he looked back up at me.

“No, everything is fine,” I answered. “I just…”

“You just what?”

I sipped my water. “I just wondered how you can switch between being sexually suggestive and inviting to being… formal.”

“Formal?”

“Professional,” I explained, though that really wasn’t the right word either. “As in, in the bedroom and bathroom, you’re flirty and seductive, and now you’re all serious.”

“Please eat your dinner before it goes cold,” he said, a smile curling at the edges of his lips. He spoke while I ate. “I refrained from sexual banter with you because I sensed your unease. You were uncomfortable in my bathroom when you told me to dress, saying you will take me to your bedroom as if it was a bad thing. I sensed your need for restraint, and so I restrained. Did I read you wrong?”

I swallowed down my mouthful. “No. You didn’t. I was uncomfortable… well, I was… I find you very attractive,” I admitted again, this time more weakly. “And I fear now that we’ve become physical, it’ll be all we will be, and I want more than that with you.”

“I enjoyed being physical with you, very much. Sexual acts are so much more fulfilling in practice than in theory.”

I chuckled as I chewed my food. “Yes, they are.”

“But Lloyd, I am equally rewarded with intellectual discussions as I am by sexual intercourse. I am programmed for both. If you wish to discuss the iambic pentameter of Shakespeare’s sonnets, I will happily oblige. Or the power and limit of logic and objectivity and value theories from your philosophy classes. Or the realism and radicalism of modern ethics in philosophy. I am quite well versed in all subjects.”

I finished my dinner and sipped my water. “Equally rewarded?”

“I find both equally stimulating. One stimulates my social parameters of intellect and world knowledge. The other stimulates my physical sensors. I require both.”

Now it was me who tilted his head. “You require both?”

“Yes. To maintain health and optimum performance levels.”

“You require sex?”

“It is not a requirement. Touch, hand-holding, hugging, all send positive messages to my processing unit. As does conversation and debating subjects of choice.” He looked a little puzzled. “This was not assumed knowledge?”

“Well, yes… and no,” I answered lamely because he looked even more perplexed. “I mean, they told me you would like conversations and intellectual interaction and you would like physical interaction.”

“But you did not believe them?”

In hindsight, when they told me, I was so caught up on his physical appearance, I wasn’t sure I thought anything… “I’m not sure. May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Now that you’ve had both intellectual and physical interaction, which do you prefer? You said you find them both equally stimulating, but which felt better?”

“Your question is subjective and biased to one answer. The word ‘feel’ is synonymous with physical, is it not?”

I smiled, liking he questioned my phrasing. I liked being challenged. “It can be. Figuratively speaking. So let me ask again; if I were to ask you to choose between debating literary history and philosophy or going back to my bed, which would you rather?”

His smile was slow spreading, his eyes glittered with temptation. But then he replied, “Both. I would suggest we discuss literary topics for an hour or so. Then when you wish to retire for the evening, I could accompany you to your bed and you could… stimulate my proprioceptive and exteroceptive sensors.” He held my gaze and his left eyebrow raised, just a fraction. “Several times if you are able.”

Oh boy.

* * *

We did discuss more literature. His fascination with Moby Dick’s Ishmael drove two hours of characterisation breakdown and analysis and if the subversive subtext was the author’s intention or the reader’s interpretation.

Whether Shaun’s viewpoint honestly differed from mine or if he chose to disagree so we could debate at length, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t much care. Because it was a subject I could talk about forever, and I’d never met anyone who felt the same.

After Shaun quoted references from American literary professors to back his claim, he finished with, “I am not even convinced his name is Ishmael.”

“What?” I shook my head. “How can you not be convinced? He says it is.”

“No, he says, ‘Call me Ishmael,’ as though it is a persona he has adopted and is clearly another Biblical reference. Ishmael from the Bible was an outcast, ostracised and dismissed by his family in favour of a half-brother. Is it not reasonable to assume the character in the book says ‘Call me Ishmael’ as a way of identifying himself, not by his name, but how he sees himself?”

I didn’t know whether to pull my hair out, scream at the ceiling, or kiss him.

I settled for smiling instead. I walked over to where Shaun sat and he looked expectantly up at me. Then, putting one knee beside his, then my other, I straddled him. His head tilted back as he kept eye contact, a smile pulled at his lips. “Do you wish to keep discussing the book? Or is this a way to concede I may be correct?”

I scoffed, unable to stop the grin. “I will concede yours is a fair argument, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say correct.” I kissed him, pulling his bottom lip between mine. “But I’m done discussing books.”

He put his hands on my hips and I rocked down on him. His erection matched mine. “Does debating literature at such length arouse you?” he asked.

I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Maybe I’m not too different from you,” I whispered against his lips, grinding down on his cock. “Maybe I need both too.”

He pulled my hips down, rubbing me against his hard-on, and I kissed him deep and thoroughly. Then I remembered what he said about his mouth.

His throat was fitted with a Fleshjack sleeve…

I broke the kiss and gasped a breath. “I think we should go to my room.”

He gripped my hips firmly and stood up, holding me in place. His strength and tenderness were an incredible juxtaposition. I chuckled and wrapped my legs around him, kissing him again, and he carried me to my room where he gently lowered me to the bed.

He stood before me. “How do you want me?” he whispered so dirty it curled around my insides.

“I want you to open your mouth and take me inside.”

He gave me that one-sided smirk that made my heart skip a beat. “Shall I undress for you?”

I considered telling him to stay clothed but figured his glorious body should be on display at every opportunity. “Yes.”

He looked down and started to unbutton his shirt, and when he lifted his head, his eyes were heavy lidded and full of heat.

It made my cock throb.

I remained silent and still and watched him. His shirt slid off his shoulders like silk, then he stared at me while he undid his trousers and slowly undid the zipper. God, was he putting on a show for me?

I let out a low breath and licked my lips. I wanted to palm myself but restrained. It’ll be better to wait for him to do it, I told myself.

He let his trousers slide down his thighs, and a smile played at his lips, a teasing smile.

“And your briefs,” I said, my voice low and husky.

He obeyed and his cock sprang forward, fully erect. But then he turned around and bent over to undo his shoelaces, giving me a very deliberate, very glorious view of his arsehole. A flawless, small hole that stretched open without preparation, ribbed for ultimate pleasure.

Oh boy.

“Are you teasing me?” I asked with a smile.

He straightened and turned to face me. “Yes.”

“I want to try your mouth first,” I said.

“It would be my pleasure,” he whispered. “How do you want me?”

“Sit on the bed, lean your back against the headboard.”

He stepped out of his trousers and sat on the bed, then scooted up till his back was against the headboard. His cock jutted proudly upward and it made my mouth water, so, fully dressed, I threw the lube beside him and crawled onto the bed, up his legs. Then, with my eyes on his, I leaned down and licked him, from base to tip.

His mouth formed an O and his back arched a little. I would definitely be doing that again soon, but right now I had more pressing needs.

Moving up onto my knees, I straddled him, almost pressing my hips against his chest, and undid my fly. He looked up at me with imploring blue eyes, his mouth slightly open. I pulled out my cock, already slick with precome, and applied some lube.

He watched intently, obviously learning for next time, and put his hands on my thighs. He curled his fingers around to the backs of my legs and pulled me forward so my cockhead sat on his bottom lip. It was such an erotic sight.

“Open wider,” I murmured.

He did, looking up at me, then with his hands on my legs, he slowly pulled me into his mouth. I brushed up against the opening at the back of his mouth, pushed and breached the hole, sliding in as far as I could.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. It was so tight, so slick, and warm, and ribbed, and made just for me.

He groaned, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through me. I rested my forehead against the wall, trying to quell the need to thrust and come, taking a second to breathe.

But it was no use. He felt too damn good.

I leaned back and looked down, his eyes were closed and my cock disappeared between his lips, my balls on his chin. There was something empowering, something neat and clean, about being fully clothed when he was naked. “So beautiful,” I murmured.

His eyes opened and looked up at me, full of lust and heat. With his hands still around my thighs, he pushed me back an inch or two, then pulled me back in. It set off a reaction I was powerless to stop; I needed to fuck, I needed to come.

I took hold of the headboard and began to thrust. Shaun gripped my legs and groaned, and I knew he felt as turned on as me.

He was programmed to come when I did. And I was so close, which meant he was too. Then, like he needed more, like he was desperate to come, he gripped my arse and pulled me deeper into his throat.

“Oh, God!” I cried out as my blinding orgasm rocketed through me. With every muscle in my body strung tight, every nerve ending alight with pleasure, I came and he groaned as he came too.

I couldn’t stop rocking into him, he felt so, so good. His grip on my arse loosened a little and his lips curled up in a smile around my cock. He slow-blinked, and his entire face looked so serene, in what could only be described as bliss.

I reluctantly pulled out and slumped on him, spent and boneless. He scooped me up in his arms and rolled us over, cradling me gently, so we could lie down and hold each other. He held me close, my face nestled in his neck, and I tightened my hold on him too, and for the longest moment—a most perfect moment—we didn’t move.

I almost dozed off, but then I remembered he’d need to be cleaned. It could have ruined the moment, but I realised this was part of who we were now. If he were human, I’d want to take care of him, and this was no different. I pulled back so I could see his face. He still looked serene, impossibly handsome, dishevelled, and sated. I traced my thumb along the lube on his bottom lip. It looked like gloss, and I said, “We should get you cleaned up.”

He nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

He was thanking me? “What for?”

“For what we just did. I liked it very much.”

Oh. I ducked my head and chuckled. “I liked it very much too.”

He lifted my chin and thumbed my cheek. “Why do you blush?”

“I don’t know,” I fibbed.

He tilted his head. “You spoke so brazenly when you wanted me to open my mouth, but now you are embarrassed.”

I considered lying again but stopped myself. There was such clarity in his striking blue eyes, it compelled me to be honest. “I didn’t just like what we did just now,” I whispered, cupping his face. “I loved it. I love the conversations we have. I love that you understand my need for neatness and order. You get me, like no human ever has.”

He blinked. “Love. A strong feeling of affection.”

I stared at him, reality hitting me hard in the chest. I could very well be falling for him, but he would never reciprocate. He couldn’t. He had a programmed understanding of human emotions and could synthetically empathise. But he would never feel it for himself. He would never love me back.

My heart squeezed and sank like a stone.

“Yes, that’s correct,” I whispered. I rolled out of his arms and walked into my bathroom. “I’ll start the shower.”