I got to work a little late. Still earlier than most of my colleagues, but late for me. Leaving Shaun was harder than I thought it would be. I reminded him he had books and puzzles and TV and movies, not that he needed reminding—it was more to comfort myself than him.

I was certain he read my anxiety, and he assured me he’d be fine.

But I still worried.

The idea of him sitting at the dining table, straight-backed with his hands on his knees, surrounded by silence and so very much alone made my heart hurt.

I told myself the time apart would be good for him.

Then I told myself the time apart would be good for me.

Yet I still wasn’t convinced.

I missed him, that was true. But I was also concerned.

He knew how to call 000 if he needed. He knew how to leave if there was a fire. He knew how to keep himself entertained.

Just breathe, Lloyd.

“Ah, I wondered if I’d see you today.” Jae’s voice interrupted my mental chastising. I’d taken my usual lunch seat in the staff room, trying to avoid as many other people as possible, though Jae normally sat with me. He seemingly had the same aversion to humans I had and his lunch tray was blessedly as neat as mine. I couldn’t have coped if he was a slob. “How was your week off?”

“Oh.” I took a second to compose myself. “Very good, thank you.”

“Get everything settled?”

I shot him a startled look. What did he know? “Pardon?”

“With your family,” he explained. “You said you had family concerns.”

“Oh, yes, we did, thank you.” I fought a smile at just how settled Shaun and I became. “I trust nothing exciting happened here in my absence?”

He waved his hand dismissively and proceeded to tell me all the goings on with the people we had a mutual dislike for.

Same old, same old. It always was, and I found strange comfort in that.

The other professors and teaching staff milled in and around, though none of them paid any attention to us. To them, we were the quiet, nerd types. Most of them avoided conversation with us because our IQs far exceeded theirs and they didn’t like to be reminded of the fact. Or maybe it was because Jae and I both exuded a stay-away aura.

Either way, I was grateful.

At the end of my lunch hour, I almost called home. I wanted to talk to Shaun. I wanted to ask how he was, if he was okay, if he was bored, but I didn’t want to impose. What if he was upset? Or if he asked me to please come home? I couldn’t very well leave halfway through my day. And then I had a thought. What if he didn’t answer?

My afternoon classes dragged on incredibly slowly. My students were attentive, the subject matter, the character of prose in nineteenth century Britain, was interesting. But for the first time in my career, I wanted to be home.

I had papers to grade. I would typically do a few hours every afternoon over the working week, and normally I would hole up in my office until they were done. But not today. I bundled my tablet into my messenger bag and headed for my car. The Class-C android driver greeted me, like he always did. “Good afternoon, Mr Salter. Please state your destination.”

“Home, please.”

My car pulled out of its parking spot, and as soon as we started for home, I felt like I could breathe a little easier. Traffic wasn’t great, though my driver navigated well enough. Truth be told, I’d never paid much attention to my android driver. Fitted to the vehicle, the Class-C driving androids were synced and activated for their owners alone. They obeyed all traffic laws, never sped, and since their inception fifteen years ago when they were integrated into society, vehicle accidents and related crimes were lowered exponentially.

But all Class-Bs and Cs were impersonal. Merely machines, monotone voices, robotic faces, mechanical movements.

Nothing like a Class-A. Nothing like Shaun.

Excitement at seeing him, anticipation, and a little concern that something was amiss ratcheted up another notch as we got closer to home.

God, did we always drive this slow?

“Is traffic slow today?” I asked.

The android’s response was automated, expected. “It is against the law to speed.”

I grumbled and resisted rolling my eyes. Barely. I checked my watch for the twentieth time and sighed. And we crawled at a snail’s pace toward home.

An eternity later, my car pulled into my apartment’s underground security car park and came to an excruciatingly slow stop.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

With my messenger bag tucked under one arm, I pushed on the door handle and was out of the car in one fluid motion. “Thank you,” I shouted as I slammed the door and hurried for the lift.

Then, of course, the lift took forever and had to make three stops on the way to the top floor. I tried to smile at the people who got in at the lobby and out on their designated floors, but my fingers drummed out an impatient tune on my messenger bag, and I may have even sighed.

But finally, finally, the lift opened on my floor and I hurried for my door. I waved my key card at the door, the little light flicked green, and I burst into my apartment.

Shaun stood up from the sofa, dressed exactly as he had been this morning, his hair impeccably styled. He grinned and headed straight for me. By the time I’d let out the mother of all breaths, he’d crossed the floor and thrown his arms around me, closing the door behind me as he did.

And we just stood there, holding each other for the longest time. Still with one arm around me, he pulled my messenger bag away and let it fall gently to the floor, and he wrapped his arms around me again, able to hold me better now.

He nuzzled his face into my neck. “I have missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too.” I pulled back and cupped one hand to his face before kissing him softly. “I worried about you and wondered what you were doing, almost every minute.”

He smiled. “You need not have worried, Lloyd.” Then he rested his forehead to mine, his eyes closed. “Your heart rate is elevated.”

“I was anxious to see you,” I admitted. “I ran down the hall.”

He smiled and his perfect pink lips curved up at one corner. “I am so glad you’re home.” Then he took my face in his hands and brought my lips to his.

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be kissing an android, I’d have laughed. If they told me I’d crave the smoothness of thermoplastic elastomer, that I’d never want to kiss another human again, I’d have thought them crazy.

He was synthetic, he was silicone, my brain knew that. But my heart knew he was so much more than that. He was real, and he was everything I needed: intelligent, gorgeous, all man. He challenged me mentally, he needed me physically, he was as neat as a pin, he had no human flaws, designed just for me.

Made just for me.

He was more than just an android. He was perfect. He was literally my ideal partner. And something that was crystal clear to me now as he held me, kissed me, longed for me, was that he was sentient.

He felt. He had a conscious awareness of self, of his own needs, of his own desires and aspirations.

He also didn’t need to breathe and could kiss indefinitely, whereas I needed oxygen. I pulled away and breathed in deep, keeping my hands on his waist. “I can smell lemon,” I noted.

He grinned. “Yes. Shall I show you what I did today?” he asked brightly. His excitement was cute.

“Please.”

He took my hand and turned around. “Well, I cleaned the floors.” Which explained the faint lemon scent. But he didn’t stop there. He led me down the hall and into what was supposed to be his room. “I cleaned the bathrooms. I tidied my wardrobe,” he waved his hand toward the walk-in closet. Everything was immaculate. Every item of clothing was cleaned, pressed, and hanging evenly spaced.

“I’m very impressed,” I said. I wasn’t lying, and given I had OCD for neatness and order, that wasn’t a little thing. “Shaun, it’s impeccable.”

He smiled and led me to my room. “Clean sheets, bed remade, dirty laundry done, bathroom cleaned.” His face pinched. “I was tempted to do your wardrobe also but wanted to ask you first. I did not wish you to think I was going through your personal effects.”

I pressed up against him and kissed him gently. “Thank you for respecting my personal space.” How he knew what that meant to me, I had no idea. “But you’re more than welcome in my personal space. You live here too. This is your home. What’s mine is yours.”

He beamed, and still with my hand in his, he led me to the kitchen. “And I cleaned the kitchen as well.”

The house was pristine. He’d done a better job cleaning than I certainly ever could, but he’d also done a better job than the cleaning androids ever did—and that was their primary function. I looked around the kitchen, and it was immaculate. “Shaun, I’m… I’m speechless.”

“I disinfected all surfaces and sterilised,” he explained. “I know how you like things clean.”

I lifted his hands and gave them a quick once over. “Your hands… you must be careful with certain products.”

“I wore gloves,” he explained. “I found a pair of cleaning gloves under the sink.”

“It must have taken you all day.”

“Not really.”

I looked around again. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t bored. But I don’t expect you to clean. The apartment management has other androids for that.”

He frowned. “I like to feel useful.”

Oh man. I took his face in my hands and stared into his eyes. “You are useful, and you did an amazing job. I appreciate it very much.”

He finally smiled. “I have missed you. I can recall the eight colours of your eyes with perfect imagery, yet it is not the same.”

Huh? What on earth did he mean? “The eight colours? My eyes are only brown.”

He shook his head a little. “Your eyes have eight distinct colours. Varying shades of brown, bronze, and gold.”

“Oh.”

“And your hair,” he said, his gaze flickering to the top of my head. “Blond, sand, wheat, and no matter how good my perfect recall is, nothing compares to seeing the real thing.”

“Shaun,” I whispered, not sure what to follow with.

I didn’t have to say anything else. He just moulded himself to me, my perfect puzzle piece, and slid his arms around me. “I missed your touch and your smile, and how you look, and how you laugh, but I missed talking to you the most,” he murmured.

I squeezed him tight and leaned against the kitchen counter with him pressed against me. I don’t know how long we stood there for like that. I lost track of time. I lost track of everything but him. There was no sexual pretext, no growing desire for me. It was just intimate and lovely, and in that moment, neither of us pushed for more.

Until the winter sun had set outside, the skies were dark and grey, and my stomach growled. Then he laughed. “You are so human. Let me feed you, then you can tell me of your day.”

He took my prepared meal from the fridge and heated it, then set the table for one, all while smiling happily to himself. I stood in the kitchen, still leaning against the counter, and watched him. When he came back in to grab the cutlery, he grinned, leaned in for a quick kiss, and went about his way.

I was so in love with him.

He sat with me, listening intently as I told him how work had been, then, of course, he had a hundred questions. His thirst for knowledge of new things was never-ending. Then I explained that I had papers to grade, and he got most excited. “I can help you.”

“Well, I need to read each student’s work. I need to see if they’ve understood the focus question,” I said, and he almost frowned. “But you can help me.”

He smiled. “I would like that.”

When we had everything tidied away, I took my tablet from my messenger bag and we settled on the sofa. I engaged my virtual lecture inbox. “All papers are electronic files—” I started.

“Then why are they called papers?”

“It’s what they’ve always been called. They moved from physical paper to electronic a long time ago, but the terminology stuck.”

He blinked, his brow furrowed a little, but he accepted it and moved on.

Learn, adapt, and evolve.

“What is the subject matter?”

“The modernist revolution.”

“Is that in regard to Georgian poetry? Or the Imagist movement?” he asked.

I smiled at him. “Have I told you today how amazing you are?”

His gaze shot to mine. “No. Not today.”

I snorted and pressed on the first document. “Open.”

“Ah, Lloyd?”

“Yes?”

“You haven’t told me how amazing I am today.”

I laughed, leaned over, and kissed him. “Shaun, you are amazing today.”

He chuckled, and then we turned our attention to grading papers. At first, he questioned facts and motives until I explained these were students’ interpretations, not historical fact. Once he understood that, that these views were not the statistical data he could reference at will, he was inquisitive and critical but fair.

He could read ahead so easily. He could scan each page by the time I’d read the first two lines. But he never hurried me, he never grew impatient. But when I’d finally got through the very last paper for the day, he took the tablet and slid it onto the table. Then he turned and gave me a sultry look. “Lloyd, you have been gone all day.”

I bit my bottom lip. “I know.”

“I have missed you.” He threaded our fingers. “Shall we go to bed?”

“Absolutely.”

We got ready for bed and I had assumed, or anticipated, that Shaun would want sex. But he didn’t. Once we were both lying down, he wrapped himself around me, settled his head on my chest and hummed a contented sound.

I ran my fingers through his hair, as I would if he was human, and he lifted his head and gave a smiling kiss to my jaw before putting his head back to my chest. “I like that very much,” he said.

“My fingers in your hair?”

“Yes. It activates my synthetic oxytocin.”

So I kept doing it until I could barely keep my eyes open, then Shaun slid one arm under my neck, pulled me over to use his chest as a pillow, and proceeded to run his fingers through my hair instead.

He was hard bodied, soft skinned. He was comfort and reassurance, and he was strength and stability. I’d never felt more secure, or more adored.

I was out like a light and slept like the dead.

* * *

The problem about waking up spooning, is my dick wakes up long before I do. Not that it’s really a problem, per se. But I was hard already, and by the time my snoozing mind woke up to reality, I’d missed half the fun.

“Mmmm, good morning,” I said into the back of his neck, my voice husky, rubbing my cock along his arse.

“You have been aroused for some time,” Shaun said, a smile in his voice.

I kissed his shoulder. If I was aroused, it meant he was too. I slid my hand down his stomach and stopped just short of his pubic hair. “May I touch you?”

“I will be very disappointed if you do not.”

I chuckled and wrapped my fingers around his cock. I’d seen, touched, and held a lot of dildos in my life, but his felt more real than that. Sure, it was for all intents and purposes, a prosthetic. But the weight, the heat, the slide of his silicone skin, was incredibly real.

He moaned as I jacked him and my own cock was now achingly hard. He arched his back, pushing his arse back against me, rubbing me in all the right places. “I need lube,” I said, letting go of his erection, intending to get it myself.

He held it up. “I thought you might.”

I laughed and took the bottle. “Thought or hoped?”

“Both.”

I slicked my cock, shuddering at the slippery sensation. Then I used my lube-covered hand to give Shaun’s cock a few long, slow pulls. He groaned again. “How do you want me?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Just like this,” I answered. We hadn’t had spooning sex before. “I want to hold your cock when you come.”

“Oh, Lloyd,” he whispered. He leaned his head back and stuck his arse back more, silently begging for me to take it.

I positioned myself at his hole and just slid right in. No prepping, no stretching, his Fleshjack-arse was always ready. And so tight. And warm, and slick with lube, and ribbed for ultimate pleasure.

“Jesus, Shaun, you feel so good.” I gripped his top leg. “Lift this leg over mine,” I urged, needing more room. I could thrust in deeper that way and take his cock in my fist.

He arched on contact, groaning low and dirty, and grinding down on my cock.

“Do you want to come?” I asked. He couldn’t come unless I did, so I was asking for his benefit as well as mine.

“Yes. Please. Lloyd,” he ground out in time with my thrusts. “You trip. All my. Sensors. Oh, yes. Please.”

I thrust up harder into him, reaching deeper, chasing my orgasm, and he cried out. His cock hard in my hand, and I slid my fist over the head, twisting and pumping, while I was buried to the hilt inside him.

“Oh, Shaun,” I gasped. “I’m gonna come.”

The surge of pleasure reached its peak and broke, sending wave after wave of orgasm hurtling through me, and his cock began to pulse in my hand. I came so hard, with such force, I almost screamed. It took me a moment to realise Shaun was groaning through his own release.

I let go of his cock and rolled on top of him, still buried deep. I never wanted to leave. I never wanted to stop. I kissed the back of his neck, his shoulder, his nape, behind his ear.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I have well surpassed okay.”

I smiled and kissed his neck, rocking my hips slowly. I slid in and out, my spent cock still full and keen to go again. It was never-ending with him; the pleasure, the want, the need.

“I could come again,” I whispered, kissing down his shoulder. “I’ve never known such pleasure, Shaun. Only with you.”

He spread his legs wide and raised his arse a little. “I do not want you to ever stop.”

He didn’t just have desires. He loved it. He wanted it. Just as much as me.

I lightly scraped my teeth along his skin and thrust in, long and slow. He moaned that sound that did things to my insides. I was crazy for the noises he made, for the moans and groans, the murmurs, and the way he whispered my name.

I pressed my weight onto his back and kissed the back of his neck. I slid my hands along his and he quickly threaded our fingers, and I made love to him.

“I love being inside you,” I whispered. “I love how you feel. I love having you in my bed. I love waking up next to you, I love coming home to you.”

He stretched, lifting his arse, giving me more of himself. “Oh, Lloyd,” he said, and it sounded like a prayer.

When I came inside him this time, it was slow and deep, but just as powerful. Like something between us heightened, solidified. Became better.

I collapsed on top of him, utterly drained, yet still on a high. I slid out of him and he quickly turned, caging me in his arms and holding me so tight. He put his hand to my cheek, and brought our lips together, kissing me so deeply my eyes rolled back into my head.

Oh boy.

Then he was gone, and when I opened my eyes, he was standing at the side of the bed in all his naked glory. “You have work today. I will run you a shower,” he said.

“Or I could just look at you naked all day.”

He grinned. “Tempting. Though you should not be late.”

I sighed. “What time is it?”

“Six forty-eight,” he replied without even thinking. Who knew built-in clocks were so useful. “Are you still tired?”

I rolled over onto my back and stretched. “No. Just a little spent. I’m not complaining though. I could wake up to that every day.”

He smiled smugly. “As could I.”

Then I remembered that he needed to shower. I’d come in him twice. “Shall I join you in the shower?” I asked. “Or will we shower separately?”

Shaun raised one eyebrow at me. “Rhetorical questions. A question asked in order to create a dramatic effect or to make a point rather than to get an answer.”

I snorted out a laugh. “Point taken.” And I followed him into the bathroom.

* * *

Every day that week was the same. I’d go to work, come home to long hugs and tender kisses. We’d talk until dinner time, then I’d grade some papers with his help and input on some matters, and we’d go to bed and make love.

By late Friday night, after a particularly vigorous round of doggy-style sex, then clean-up sex in the shower, we collapsed back on the bed. Shaun was tracing soft patterns on my back, and I began to fall asleep. “What are you mapping out on my back?” I mumbled, not even opening my eyes.

“Nothing,” he replied gently, then kissed my temple. Then he did something that sealed the fate of my heart. If it wasn’t his before, it certainly was now. He quoted Moby Dick.

“‘It is not down in any map; true places never are’.”