Day 18: Prosthetics
Pairing: Doc/Xisuma
Xisuma takes care of his Hermits. All of them, all day, every day, as best as he can. That's what a good admin does, after all. He's not the smoothest with prosthetics, but sometimes Doc is too wound up, too achy and in pain to do it himself, and so X has to step up to the occasion. Sometimes stepping up to the occasion means perching himself on Doc's lap and having him soft and tender and purring under his hands as he opens latches and resettles wires and tightens screws.
“You’re good at this,” Doc purrs, face buried in the crook of his shoulder. Armour off today; the gauntlets are too clunky to fiddle with the delicate circuitry, and Doc’s hot breath dampens the shoulder of his white tee.
“Thank you, Doc.” Xisuma says. “I learned from the best.”
Doc huffs out a laugh, snuggles in closer. “I may be the best, but you’ve gotten pretty good at it, I have to say.”
“I’m sure it has secrets that still elude me.”
“It does.” Something’s changed in the tone of Doc’s purr, low and coy. “You wanna see?”
X throws the latch of Doc’s forearm closed, and suddenly he’s being thrown down, a big, heavy, warm creeper weight bearing down on him.
Doc is hard, has been for a while, truly, but X doesn’t really mind. If he had minded he wouldn’t have kept sitting down on his lap, pressed against his hard-on. And now he’s rutting against X’s thigh, purring pleased little noises. It’s a split-second decision, and X is shucking his jeans and boxers, letting Doc’s sheer size and fur swallow him until their legs have become an unbreakable tangle and Doc’s cock and cunt, pulsing warm and wet, are grinding against Xisuma’s thigh.
“Don’t tell me your prosthetic arm has sexual functionalities, now.”
Doc huffs, amused, and his metal hand is running feather-light along his side. It’s got pads at the fingers and palm, and is pleasantly warm on his skin, and slick when it wraps around his cock. Okay, so it self-lubricates. That’s nifty.
But then there’s a low, odd pressure around Doc’s fingertips, and he doesn’t have it in him to ask where the lube comes from, exactly; it extends knuckle by knuckle, until Doc’s entire fist is vibrating around Xisuma’s cock and, fuck, Xisuma can feel it and it feels fucking amazing. It’s just this pocket of wet, vibrating warmth around his cock making him go crazy, already too much pleasure for his brain to comprehend when he’s not even that aroused, and he writhes under Doc’s weight, moans out little noises that make Doc smile against his neck and pump his fist faster, lets his fingers press against him and right under the glans and X needs more. He tries to communicate it in a way that isn’t words, because he’s pretty sure he’s lost the capability for them by now. Hopefully wrapping his legs around Doc’s waist and rutting against his cock gets the message across.
Doc purrs a pleased noise, and his flesh hand is now wrapping around his cock, because his metal hand is slipping its way between his legs, down and down and down between his cheeks to swipe at his hole with a finger. It’s warm, and slick, and not vibrating, but X knows exactly what’s coming, and relaxes as much as he can to take it in. it slides in easily, just a tad too big for comfort, and then another, slicker than the first. He pumps them in and out a few times, scissors them open wide, prods around a little bit, and then the vibration starts. From the base of his fingers this time, slow slow slow and getting faster as it travels up the length of his fingers, until his fingertips are pressed up against his prostate and vibrating madly, like he wants to rub his ability to ejaculate off, and the pleasure is blinding, white-hot up and down his spine. He writhes in Doc’s hold, lulled by his low laughter, presses his face into the fur at his neck and mouths at what he can find under his teeth even as mean, mean Doc keeps his flesh hand tight around his cock, weeping and flushed.
“P–please, Doc,” he tries, unsure of how he even managed to get the words out, “Stars, please.”
Doc doesn’t respond; but his fingers gradually slow down inside him before slipping out, and something bigger, warmer, slicker is now pressing against his entrance.
Doc enters him easily, hilts himself inside ju-u-ust deep enough for X to feel pleasantly full, and starts thrusting. His pace is bruising fast inside X, and his metal hand is back around his cock, fucking him quick and basically uncaring of all but his own pleasure; he’s rutting into him like an animal, hard enough that X is sure he’ll have bruises on his thighs tomorrow and he doesn’t care, not when he’s got a fat, wet cock fucking him and a warm, slick, vibrating hand around his dick wringing an orgasm out of him. He comes with a strangled gasp, and Doc gasps too, starts moving faster, and faster, fiddling one-handed between his legs, until there’s the slick squelch of fingers entering him, and he’s coming with a wet noise, splashing pleasure all over the floor and Xisuma’s spent, limp form.
It’s fine.
Doc’s big, warm, fuzzy, purring body curling around him more than makes up for the discomfort of lying on the floor.
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