.:. Rating : NC-17 .:.
Basically, Ryan's a robot and Brendon needs to get laid.
Brendon sighed.
This really was a fucked up thing to do, but he needed to get laid, and this just happened to be the perfect way to do it. A shiny plaque at the statue's feet read: "Ryan is a Coin-Operated Boy. Insert a Quarter Into the Palm of his Hand and He'll Do the Rest." He pulled a silver coin out of the change pocket of his wallet and pushed it into the slot in the toy's hand. He heard a faint clinking as the coin traveled through "Ryan" and then gasped a little as the serious expression of the machine softened into a shy smile.
"Hi, my name is Ryan," he said, in an elegant monotone.
"Brendon," Brendon said, looking in awe at Ryan. He was wearing tight black pants with off-white pinstripes, a ruffled white shirt and a black and white striped vest. He had on black eyeliner and eyeshadow and his hair was styled in a very suave manner.
"Brendon, hm? Nice name."
"Oh. Thanks." Brendon nervously scratched the nape of his neck.
Stepping off the pedestal, Ryan sighed in a melancholy manner. "You know," he droned, "it gets a little monotonous, watching these whores frolic all over the place." He vaguely indicated at all the strippers littering the club. "And I want you to know," he continued, inching closer, "that I am not like those girls. They'll give you a lap dance. I'll give you a fuck you'll never forget." And with that, he pushed Brendon onto a nearby table, impressing the shape of his sculpted hipbones into Brendon's heaving body. Leaning over the young man, whose breathing had become ragged and unstable, Ryan, voice inflicted with a dark humor, muttered, "And would you say, my noble patron Brendon, that a good fuck far outshines any lap dance you'll ever get from one of those sluts?"
Wondering how Ryan could say words that sounded unrefined, and yet still so eloquent, Brendon whispered back, "Yes."
Ryan pressed his cold, mechanical lips onto Brendon's and roughly kissed him. He dragged the plastic airbrushed carvings of his fingers up Brendon's jawline, tracing the contours of his face. Skimming his tongue against Brendon's ear, Ryan muttered, "Sounds like we're in for quite a show tonight, then." Moving his lips back down Brendon's neck, Ryan moaned softly into Brendon's warm skin. Brendon felt Ryan smirk into his neck when he took in a sharp breath. Slipping a long fingered hand up Brendon's shirt, Ryan murmured, "What do you want, Brendon?"
"A good fuck," Brendon replied huskily, closing his eyes and throwing his head back at Ryan's artificial touch. The music of the club was still pounding in his ears, but all he could hear was Ryan's whispered words.
Chuckling sadistically, Ryan muttered back, "Which I've already stated I'm more than willing to supply. Except," he continued alluringly, slowly moving his hand down Brendon's back. "I'm not sure you're..." His hand moved to the front of Brendon's body, pausing right above the man's hardening cock. "...ready."
Brendon opened his eyes and looked up at Ryan. His chocolate eyes met Ryan's honey-golden set, which were daring him to make the next move. Unable to resist the temptation, Brendon pulled Ryan's hand down to his cock. "I'm ready," he said firmly, voice alight with uncontainable lust.
Sliding an elegant, long fingered hand down Brendon's pants, Ryan whispered in his ear, "You better be."
Ryan gently wrapped his right hand around Brendon's cock. With his index finger, he lightly stroked Brendon's length, smirking slightly at the uneven gasping of the other. Ryan's hand caressed Brendon's cock with a steady rhythm, evenly rubbing his fingers against the slowly growing erection.
Suddenly, Brendon's hand whipped out and grabbed hold of Ryan's wrist. Raising an eyebrow, Ryan looked up at Brendon, who growled sensually, "Come with me."
With that, he led Ryan to a separate room. For a few moments, a surprised silence ensued, but then the dancers resumed twisting around poles and soon the regular activity of the strip joint was back in place.
The minute they entered the private room, Ryan had Brendon pinned against the wall, exploring the depths of his mouth with his copper tongue. Ryan's hands moved from Brendon's shoulders, slipping under his shirt and sliding down his back. The elegant hands then slipped to the waistband of Brendon's pants and Ryan dropped to his knees, grinning devilishly up at Brendon. He unzipped the other man's pants and tossed them, and his boxers, off to the side.
"Lose the shirt," Ryan mumbled, almost lazily.
Slowly and teasingly, Ryan pressed his lips to Brendon's cock. Brendon jerked his head up as if he had been charged with an electric shock. Ryan worked his lips around the length, dragging his tongue along to arouse Brendon even further. Ryan placed his palms on Brendon's stomach and gripped tightly. His fingernails cut shallowly into the flesh of Brendon's stomach, but he wasn't paying attention to that at the moment.
Ryan was sucking his dick hungrily, bobbing his head slightly. He slowly brought his lips back and licked Brendon's leaking tip, tasting his pre-come. He moved his lips back fully over the length and continued sucking, pausing occasionally and slithering his tongue all over Brendon's cock, either oblivious to the other man's moans or disregarding them cruelly. Ryan, finally looking up to see Brendon grimacing in fierce pleasure, swallowed, pushing the length down his throat.
Brendon gasped raggedly and crumpled to his knees. "J-Jesus fuck, Ryan," he panted. "Don't I even get a fucking warning?"
"I don't do warnings," Ryan said aloofly, smirking at Brendon. Glancing again at Brendon's cock, he chuckled, "You haven't come yet? You did better than I expected."
Brendon glared at the machine. "Maybe it just means you're not doing your job right."
Ryan snorted, a loose, satisfied sound that managed to be irritating and seductive at the same time. "You're quite the joker. Now," he mused, "Would you allow me to finish my job?"
Brendon nodded yes.
***
“Fuck, Ryan,” Brendon moaned gutturally as he felt the hot tightness of Ryan around him. Ryan smirked at how much Brendon writhed under him as Ryan rode his dick viciously.
“You like that?” Ryan whispered lowly in Brendon’s ear as he bent down.
Brendon could feel the blood in his cock surging as Ryan spoke in that husky monotone of his. All Brendon could do was whimper and nod. Liking it was an understatement; he loved it so much, he could feel and see nothing but Ryan fucking him into oblivion, mechanical hands pinning his own fleshy ones, thin lips smirking and cruel honey eyes watching Brendon fall apart.
Ryan lifted himself off for a moment then slammed himself back down. Brendon screamed at the sensation as Ryan all but grunted, “Fuck, yes." He continued riding him, whispering dirty nothings into his ear while Brendon moaned and screamed. He was on the verge of coming.
“R-Ryan, I c-can't―oh―FUCK, Ryan―I need to-"
Next thing he knew, Ryan got off and unexpectedly flipped Brendon over, face down onto the grimy floor. “Fuck,” Brendon breathed with indignation. “What the fuck are you doing? I was about to...," he trailed off. Brendon was on the edge and he could barely feel Ryan rub his spit and cum covered fingers around Brendon’s hole. But he felt it when, without warning, Ryan plunged into Brendon, causing the young man to scream.
Ryan whispered in his ear, “This is what I'm doing." Not giving Brendon much time to adjust, he began thrusting, and the sounds of Brendon’s sobbing screams and whimpers echoed through the room.
“God, Ryan,” Brendon half-sobbed. “Again, some warning?” It had hurt so fucking much, the sudden burn and the stretch, that his cock had softened.
Laughing evilly, Ryan muttered, “I told you,” as he punctuated each word with a hard thrust. “I don’t do warnings.”
After a while, the pain had intensified to such a level that Brendon’s cock had hardened and he was over the edge again. His sobbing screams had tapered out into moans of pleasure. He hadn’t felt something this intense for a long time and it was the best fucking feeling in the world.
“Oh my god," Brendon moaned loudly, nails digging into Ryan’s wrists when Ryan’s cock brushed up against his prostate and continued to with each thrust. "Oh-Oh-F-fuck," he groaned. "Jesus-F-fuck, Ryan!"
“Now that’s the sound I wanted to hear,” Ryan tittered casually, as he increased his pace and thrusted harder.
***
Fifteen minutes later, Brendon was sprawled across the floor of the club, pale stomach damp from come and breathing heavily. Ryan glanced down at him disdainfully, pulling his clothes back on.
"You know," he said, "you weren't half bad."
Brendon closed his eyes, and muttered sullenly, "Means a lot."
Ryan smirked and left the room, and Brendon followed.
***
It became a regular thing between them. Ryan would make the same show every time, and after a while it became a normal part of the joint's routine. And, well, not even the veterans could say the sounds ever got uninteresting.
One day, in the back room, exhausted from sex, Brendon asked, "Ryan?"
"Yes?" replied the robot, not even taking the time to look in the other man's direction.
"Can you see or hear or function at all, without someone dropping a coin into you?"
Ryan sighed. "No. This is my only existence, fucking the patrons."
"But doesn't it get old after a while? Don't you get sad that you'll never know anything more?"
"I might get sad, say, if I were a human. Or if I even knew what I was missing. But that isn't the case. This is what I was made for, having sex. I wasn't even built to have feelings, so I can't feel sad about not having anything else in my life."
***
Brendon screamed and collapsed, come streaking the already dirty floor. Once he was finished, he sat next to Ryan, nuzzling into his side. Ryan looked down at him and raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest.
"Ryan, what was it like, the first time, for you?"
Ryan chuckled dryly. "I woke up, saw a man standing in front of me, and I just knew what to do. The exact same thing I did to you, I've done to everyone else who's come my way."
"Why?" Brendon asked curiously.
"It's the way I was programmed. Each of us is different, we all have a unique routine. I'm the most popular, I've been told."
"Are you proud of that?" Brendon asked, skeptically smiling up at Ryan.
"I would be. If I could feel anything." He sighed. "What are they like? Feelings?"
"Well," Brendon explained, "There are so many different types of feelings. There's a happy feeling, where you feel like you could do anything, you feel like you're floating. And there's a sad feeling, when you feel like nothing could go right, and everything is your fault. And when you're angry, you hate everyone and just want the whole world to fuck itself."
Ryan chuckled a little.
"Oh, and there's love. When you're in love with a person, you think that person is perfect, and beautiful, and you want to spend time with them, all the time."
"Well, I sure hope no one's fallen in love with me. I'd never be able to love them back."
Brendon turned away before laughing. So Ryan wouldn't see the look on his face.
***
But it just so transpired that one day, when Brendon faithfully arrived at the club expecting to see Ryan standing on his pedestal, he instead witnessed Ryan pushing someone else, another man with stick-thin legs and long hair, against a table and planting lustful kisses all over his neck; well, he wasn't terribly surprised. Besides, Ryan hadn't meant anything to him; he said it himself, he was just a good fuck.
So when Ryan emerged from the private room, their room, and saw Brendon getting one of those cheap lap dances, well, he couldn't blame him. And when Brendon gave him that defeated, sad smile, Ryan didn't cry. That didn't shock Brendon one bit. Robots didn't have feelings; it was absurd to think they could cry.