bakerstreet | my blood is boiling; my brain's IBM

Entry tags:

[meme] shipping

my blood is boiling; my brain's IBM

NOT just A ROBOT
shipping meme

There's always a right tool for the job, be it as simple as a hammer for a nail or on up to the much, much more complex. In this, the near future, the new tool for the abstract, post-modern job is no longer from the humble tool box - it's robots. Robots have taken over most sectors, such as assembly, law enforcement, and even health care. Things run so much smoother when they're automated. Yet the most impressive factor is that robots have just recently begun to enter a sector previously believed to require human touch: the personal sector. From personal assistants to robo bodyguards to pleasurebots, most anyone who's anyone has a personal robot these days. Of course, humanity being the narcissistic charmers we are, all "companion" sector robots are made in our own beautiful image, or close to it.

But you know this. You have a personal robot, after all...or you are one.

Whether owner or robot, it's important to remember one key rule: robots, no matter how human they appear, cannot feel emotions. Any appearances thereof are programming in the AI.

Robots certainly, absolutely, cannot fall in love. Again, any appearances thereof are programming in the AI. If that's not the case, and "love" still seems present...

...well, a toll that no longer functions correctly may not be right for the job.

HOW TO PLAY ➟

Comment with your character, preference, and whether you want to play a human or a robot.
Reply to others.
Use the RNG to choose a prompt or pick one yourself.

OWNER ➟

Long Time Owner → You and your robot are a well-oiled machine, no pun intended.
New Purchase → Congratulations, you have your brand new personal bot!
Second Hand → Someone else owned this robot before you, but it can't be too damaged. There's no way you could afford a brand new one, anyway.
For Science! → Your interests in robots are purely scientific. No matter how yours begins to act towards you, honest!
Rescue → Whether you took them from the dump or from a bad owner, you brought this robot from the jaws of deletion.
Reluctant → You never wanted a robot, but you've got one thrust on you anyway.
Cruel → They're just a fancy computer, so you'll treat them however you like.
See the Humanity → Even if you know it's all machinery and programming, you can't help but see the human side of your robot. They shouldn't have to be a servant.
What's Real and What's Not → The lines are beginning to blur between real people and their emotions and your robot.
Incompatible → You can't be with a machine, either romantically or sexually. You're simply not compatible.
Too Engrossed → They say you've created a fantasy world. You're forgetting reality, or choosing to ignore it.
Don't Care → You won't listen to what the others say; you know how you feel.
Have to Pull Away → The close relationship you had with your robot has to be put aside for your own good.
Live a Normal Life → As much as you can, you and your robot live like a normal couple.
Bad End → Your robot is taken away, reprogrammed, or destroyed.

ROBOT ➟

The Perfect Robot → You know what you and exactly what you were made to do. You will not stray.
More Human than Human → Whoever programmed you made you to be just like a human.
Conflicted → There is no way you could have what they call "feelings." But what is this stirring in your circuitry?
Confused → Why do people treat you like a robot? You're a living thing, damn it!
Damaged → Somehow, you've been corrupted. You're a blank slate and have to be cared for, though it should be the opposite. Or it could be that you're showing erratic behavior that no robot should...
Shown Kindness → When you're treated kindly by a human, you are unsure how to process it. It makes you feel - content.
No Longer Just a Program → Your "love" and "affection" may have been shades and imitations at first, but that's not the case any longer.
Obsolete Model → You know you're old. Will you be forced to leave your master's side?
Jealousy → A robot should not feel jealous. Still, you envy those close to your master.
Job is Personal → You were programmed to protect or to serve, though you also do it because you...care
Second Chance → Your old master tossed you aside and now you are wary. But you've been given another chance instead of being used for scrap.
Rogue → There is no way you will be tied to the oppressive system. You refuse to serve the Living Things. Somehow, though, you've become aligned with one.
One of a Kind → There are no other robots like you, and perhaps you are intended for a sinister fate. Rather than face your true duty, you have escaped to take refuge with a human.
Specialty → You were created specifically for this one special person.
Reprogrammed → Because of previous defects, you were taken back to factory settings before. However, that treacherous virus, "love," is bubbling back up.
Android → You can't just forget the part of you that was - still is - organic.
Learn to Be Human → Despite the odds and the prejudices you both will face, you have decided to live as a free, living person with the one you care for most.
Bad End → You're to be junked, impacted, wiped clean, or taken away from your owner.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Tony's hips twitch with unintended consequences, but he keeps his mouth shut and maintains composure by biting down on the insides of his cheeks. He is abruptly, painfully aware of the experience differential; Tony's been with people who are probably so skilled with their hands and their mouths and their bodies that they can take him apart completely and put him back together in twenty minutes. He's been with people who have skills and ideas like god damn Stephen Hawking compared to what Bruce knows or can even conceive to try.

Tony himself is probably one of those people. Meanwhile, Bruce has touched himself exactly one time and that is the full extent of his sexual prowess. It's. Fucking unpleasant to think about. He does not like being ignorant on a subject, it goes against his primary drive.

A thumb strokes carefully along the dip Tony's shoulderblade makes as it disappears into his back, that few inches before his spine. ]

Like a- kind of a... shoulders. Thing. [ He admits, with just the smallest detectable trace of embarrassment lacing the words. Humility, maybe, or... apology, for eyeing him up when they had a job to do. ] So yes. I was an asshole, and I acted like a dick. I'm sorry. But- in my defense... I mean, it was... a lot.

[ A lot of neck and shoulders and back and crawling around side by side shimmying down his body, pressed in tight closed quarters breathing against his jaw.

If Tony can put himself back in the moment with this new context in mind he might have a little understanding for Bruce's struggle that day. ]

A shoulders thing? [ That's new. He knows he has nice ones but-

Oh. A shoulders thing.

That does paint the entire second half of their adventure in an entirely new light and, again, he doesn't laugh. Because he knows that level of shame just waiting to reach out and drag you down, knows what it's like to want and not understand how to go about it. The sulky near teenager act sort of fits, then and-

Shit Bruce is effectively a teenager in his social development.

If only he wasn't too stoned to give a fuck.

Tony leans up, pressing his lips to Bruce's sweet and slow, gentle as anything. The barest drag of tongue, the lightest scrape of teeth, new variables in the overall equation that is kissing. New flavors to try, new tools in the arsenal. ] Hey.

[ He murmurs, cradling Bruce's stupidly square jaw in his hand, thumb smoothing across his cheek. ] It's fine. You've never been- and it's confusing for us too, when we're not used to it.

[ A beat, and he tilts his head to the side. ] Should I, um. Should I take my shirt off for you now, or would you rather it stay on?

Um-

[ He starts, taken aback by the offer, faltering between a resounding yes and the want to make sure he's not... crossing a line, or god forbid making Tony feel pressured to cater to him through feelings of obligation or pity, or-

He shifts back, falters, slips his hand from behind Tony's back to trace his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. ]

You really... don't have to do anything you don't... want to do, it's not like-

[ Not a requirement, not like he's not having... a good time like it is.

And if the shirt comes off he can't guarantee any real semblance of respectability.

A traitorous single-minded part of his anatomy is inclined to be more enthusiastic about the idea, but he's a rational man damn it. ]

[ He had a well worded argument in favor of both of their shirts coming off ready to go but is distracted by the sweep of Bruce's thumb across his lips, much like he's always been distracted and- he doesn't give much warning, not really, for his hand skimming down to catch Bruce's wrist. He tugs it down, tilting his face while maintaining eye contact. And this is cheating, he knows it's cheating, but it doesn't stop him from tugging, lacing their fingers together so he can guide Bruce's thumb and forefinger across his lips.

Just an idle back and forth stroke against flesh gone pink from kissing, his eyes dark, his smirk slightly coy. Just a little. He should honestly take mercy. NOt pull out the tricks because apparently he doesn't need them. Bruce digs his shoulders.

Really digs his shoulders.

Likes him. So he doesn't need to try to get him into bed since- there's nothing to prove here. But one part muscle memory and a lot of curiosity has him parting his lips to suck the tip of Bruce's finger into his mouth, tongue curling around the pad and- yeah. They'll get back to the shirt thing, probably. ]

[ He's expecting- well- not that. That is not something he's seen happen yet, this is a real and genuine first for him. He can't really help the way his own lips part at the gentle feeling of Tony's bottom lip beneath the pad of his, his forefinger. Can't help the slightly breathless sound that slips from his chest, the tiniest of exhales.

And then.

And then.

And then lips part and the soft hot wet of tongue curls around the sensitive digit and his pupils blow dark and Tony's looking him in the eyes when he does it. He can't even pretend he isn't bothered by it, not when he's pressed against Tony's thigh like that, and the sudden feeling of his stomach bottoming out manifests undeniably physically in a hot second.
He exhales a slow and shaky breath. ]

That is... trouble. That's what that is. That's...

[ Christ. ]

[ Tony pulls away slowly, dragging the gesture out until Bruce's finger comes free with a wet pop, teeth grazing the pad of Bruce's finger along the way. He licks his lips, breath wafting warm in the space between them. ]

That's what I want to do ever time I see you reach up to touch your own mouth. That or kiss you.

[ If they're being honest. ]

So I've got a- hand thing. Your hands. They're distracting, very often, as in nigh constantly.

[ So they- they're in the same pot of slowly boiling water, cooking next to each other. Tony can't bring himself to care, not when he can watch Bruce's eyes go dark, not when he can feel him get that much harder, that much more physically effected than he might've thought possible. It's always a headtrip, knowing he can do this to someone, but Bruce? Who always plays so stoic and wry?

It's almost as good as twisting a laugh out of him or one of his genuine smiles.

Eyes still locked on Bruce he turns their hands over, pressing a dry, chaste kiss to the back of Bruce's hand; less coy, more projected innocence. It's all in the eyebrows, really. ]

So let's just- cards on the table. Whatever it is you're thinking? I want to. I very much want to.

[ It's hard to describe the feeling that alights in him at Tony's frank confession; not even sexually, although granted yes that does play a role. The bigger thing, though is -- he's apparently not alone in this, that he hasn't been. That evidently, occasionally, Tony's been inclined to think about him in the same manner as Bruce has been thinking about Tony. As in, longer than just since Bruce cleared the distance between.

Something he hadn't imagined for a second to be within the realm of possibility. Something he hadn't even remotely put on the table because he's pragmatic and not optimistic.

He's never going to be able to absently play with his lips again without flushing. It's going to be impossible, he's going to realize he's doing it and summon the vividly clear feeling of Tony's mouth. It's... ruined forever, and he can't even say he's particularly upset about it. ]

Yeah, until about... five minutes ago I didn't even think you'd- [ Even consider... ] I didn't really have a plan lined up, but I'm... sure I could put together a few ideas.

[ A beat, then wryly: ]

How do you feel about powerpoint presentations?

Until about five minutes ago I thought I was some kind of creepy narcissistic fuck perving on his friend. So. [ He shrugs, letting Bruce's hand go in favor of smoothing both of his hands through Bruce's hair, delighting in the spring and give, cupping his skull gently, gingerly. Sober him would have a brief flicker flash of gently laying the skull in place in the cradle for soft tissue development-

Stoned Tony just...likes the way Bruce's hair feels against his palms, Likes being able to pull him in gently for another kiss. It's less want, more affection. Dry and chaste and as easy as the afternoon started, thumbs swiping idly against Bruce's scalp. ]

Mm? [ Power point? He blinks, brow furrowing, utterly baffled before his nose crinkles, eyes slipping shut as giggles twist out of him. Soft and lilting, wrapped up in a warmth he hasn't felt for another person since-

Since Pepper. He tips his head forward enough to rest his forehead against Bruce's, smile audible. ] Sure, Bruce-Goose. How fast can you whip one up?

Narcissistic? Yes. Perverted?

[ Judging by the mouth wrapped around his finger a minute ago? He tilts his head, sort of a wry shrug, lets it speak for itself.

Creepy, though? No, not even in the slightest. Not even for one second. Tony's been nothing but considerate, compassionate, kind. Good to him from the first second, good to him now, every space in between.

The hands in his hair feel good in an entirely different way, in a comforting way, in a way that makes him want to lower himself down and close his eyes just to feel it. He'll take a chaste kiss as a viable alternative though, and return it just as sweetly. Huffs a laugh into at the sight of Tony's nose crinkling.

This is... good.

If he'd known this is all it took he'd have gotten them stoned weeks ago. As far as how to proceed from here though? How to take things to the next level, or carry them beyond this gentle stopping point? He... isn't actually sure. He's too hesitant, uncertain in the ideas he's got or how to get from point A to point B with them. ]

[ He honestly would be, and is, content with this. Lazily tangled with Bruce, breathing slowly, cheek resting against his. Existing. Being. In the morning the anxiety will kick in and he'll wonder if he did the right thing, encouraging this. He'll wonder if Pepper and Rhodey aren't right about everything. But with Bruce stretched out over him like a blanket, calm and drifting in the same haze? It's hard to think of anything aside from pure, uncomplicated enjoyment.

At least until Tony tries to reach for his e-blunt and can't quite manage it. He tries, discreetly, to reach for it without giving up much of the comfortable sprawl they've found themselves in but it's just out of reach. ]

Fucknuggets. Shift a sec? [ He lists, strains, and manages to get ahold of the slim rod, rolling it close enough with the very tips of his fingers before snagging it off the coffee table. ] Want a lesson in another vital part of the 'getting baked' experience?

[ It's fortunate that he's not human, in a way, because his muscles don't get tired and he doesn't feel the aches a normal person might by keeping so much of their weight propped so thoroughly on an elbow. It takes nothing for him to shift a little more, to give Tony room, and then to settle back down again with his head tilted to one side, almost cheek to cheek save for the few inches down he shifts.

Is it too much? He can't help but wonder, but this is the most physicality he's ever had and he'd be lying if he said it didn't fill him with a warm and lazy contentment. He can hear Tony's heart beating, he can hear the gentle hum of the reactor in his chest. Hard to be uncomfortable with such a viscerally calming situation.

An eyebrow does arch, though, at the question. He tips his head up, keenly curious, eyeing the thing in Tony's hand skeptically. ]

Tentatively, yes?

Shotgunning. [ Tony smiles, lazy as anything, taking a short drag from the vape, tilting his head away to exhale. Just to remind his lungs of what it's like to breathe, since they took a break. ] I exhale smoke into your mouth.

[ It's a little juvenile, he'd only ever really smoked with Rhodey and they just puffed and passed through the years when time came around, so a part of him is deeply curious. It's not something he's had a chance to try since he was a wee nerdling in MIT and if his memory served? It was fucking hot. Enjoying the burn (which the vape won't provide and he's fine with that, he likes his lungs) sucking on the waft of smoke and someone's bottom lip, listing into their space all the while? It's some kind of intimate and, well. ]

The smoke shouldn't damage your lungs at all and you won't process anything; though it might trigger an escalation in the sim you're running? I'm not sure. But- [ He tilts a smile in Bruce's direction, eyes bright, tongue dragging across his bottom lip. ] Does that sound like something you'd like to try?

Sounds like something you'd like to try.

[ He points out, sounding amused. He can't imagine it'll accomplish anything, the limited need for oxygen his system requires is for mostly functional efficiency, he doesn't really absorb things through the tissue in such a way that they would impact his processor. In short, it would do absolutely nothing unless he associated it with the triggering if the simulation patch.

But.

If it'll make Tony happy, why the hell not. It's not like it's putting him out or anything. ]

...Okay to be honest it is. But, zero pressure.

[ He'd somehow conned Bruce into trying this with him under the guise of academics, he'll not push anything else on him afterward. But- if he's down? And he does seem down. Tony takes a long, slow drag from the vape, turning and tilting his head to just about fit their lips together, a bare breath away.

Smoke thick on his tongue, in his throat, his lungs, he exhales slowly against Bruce's mouth, bottom lip just barely touching. A kiss that is and isn't a kiss, the heat banked under his skin coiling into something like less than vague interest. Which means (finally) the rest of his body starts getting with the program, heating, hardening just fom being this close for this long. ]

[ He is, in fact, down. Frankly, any excuse to be so close, to have Tony's lips a breath away from his own, so close you can feel the heat but not actually touching? Yeah, that's fine. Perfectly alright with him.

Tony breathes out. He breathes in. Slow, careful, wisps of smoke escape them but not many. His lungs fill with a gentle heat but, in by the simple nature of their material and what he is he doesn't cough.

When he exhales, it's because he can feel Tony physically react to it, a gentle pressure against his hip. It forces the breath from him in with a long, low sound that's almost a sigh.

He has no strong opinions on shotgunning, but very strong opinions on Tony's reaction to it. Experiment success. ]

We could do it the other way around if you want.

[ Because when he exhales there's almost no carbon dioxide. Might make for an interesting turn of events. ]

[ Between stress and circulation issues? Sometimes it takes him a little while to get going. He'll...have that talk with Bruce when he's sober. Which won't be anytime soon, not with how he's drifting deeper into smoke induced lethargy. That sound, that sigh? Drags an answering moan out of Tony, breathless and thready. ]

Fuck yes? [ He doesn't whimper, he absolutely does not whimper.

He totally whimpers, just a little, at the very idea. Spinning the e-blunt around he presses it into Bruce's hands which frees up his own to tangle in his hair instead, eyes dark, mouth red and wet, lips parted. Waiting. Damn near breathless with anticipation as he tries to not start grinding up into Bruce just because he can. ]

[ This is going in book three, and for the first time he's got to admit maybe, just maybe, it is technically an Experience. See if he ever admits that out loud, though. No, over his lifeless mechanical corpse. It's an utterly new revelation, he's certain it's one of many to come, but there's no denying he finds it endlessly, utterly fascinating.

From a personal standpoint, it does nothing for him. What it does to Tony, though? Yeah, he's happy to travel down this path for as long as he can continue garnering reactions like that.

So he takes the device, presses it to his lips. Pulls.

Leans in with a soft tilt to his head and the easiest touch of lips, and does his best to recreate experiment 1A. It's a bit cooler, perhaps, his lungs run at something just below body temperature. A bit different than it would be with a normal person, but, he hopes, good enough. ]

[ It's like taking a hit from a chilled vape, smooth and cool and smokey sweet, curling over Tony's tongue like the lightest liquor that he wants to swallow down for fucking ever. He might've just found his new favorite way to smoke; though using Bruce for this, exclusively, is probably a dick move.

One thing he does know is that he'll never be able to smoke with Rhodey again, not without wanting this from Bruce. Specifically. A shiver twists down his spine as he inhales, holds. Lips working against Bruce's barely. The faintest press and there's a yearning in him to close the distance but not yet. Not until he exhales with a drawn out moan, something low and slow and decidedly obscene. There's not a decent fucking thing about him in this moment- and closing the distance, tugging Bruce down to meet him? Is the only thing that matters.

It's hotter, hungrier, but slow. Still so slow, still so gentle because this is new and he wants, more than he wants Bruce- he wants to be good for him. To him. ]

[ It is, decidedly, very worth it. He'll happily trail along behind Tony during all of his smoke sessions and facilitate it for him so long as that sound comes from his throat shortly thereafter. It races down his spine and curls his toes almost, tugs an exhale from his nose despite the fact that he's almost out of air anyway. It pulses through his heart, through his cock, through his core, and he meets the kiss head-on.

His control, it seems, falters for a second. Slips just a little, because the vape gets discarded somewhere near Tony's head and his hand slides down to Tony's hip, curling tight in an almost bruising grip, tugging his hips up to meet his own. It's sort of an automatic thing, something he doesn't think about or intentionally do, he just... does it. ]

[ Is it possible to have biological instincts if you aren't squishy and biological yourself? Tony will float that thought by sober him easily later, when he doesn't have Bruce weighting him down, grinding, clinging- he's stronger than the average person, not by much, not enough to be dangerous, but the density and durability of his frame does have that side effect.

People will give and break before Bruce does-

So he'll have a bruise, and he doesn't mind. The ache settles in and only serves to drag out another breathless twist of sound, another hitched exhale as he rocks his hips up with what limited leverage he's got. Grinds them together, lips tearing away from Bruce's to drag along the angel of his jaw, nipping at the soft skin below. ]

If you let me up I'm taking my shirt off. [ He murmurs, turning enough to catch the lobe of Bruce's ear in his teeth and nip. ]

[ He can't be sure if it's a biological instinct or if it's simply that he's hard, that Tony's hard, that they're touching at the waist and that pulling Tony's hips flush and up generates desirable deliberate friction. He'll apologize later when he sees the marks, when he sees his fingertip prints left along Tony's hip and knows he took it too far.

But part of him will remember those prints from the other day, and will feel possessively gratified that he's left his own mark.

Frankly, tearing his shirt off is the only thing he thinks is worth separating for a few inches of space. ]

Yep.

[ He agrees, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. Shifts himself up and away a foot or so to make room. ]

[ The sudden absence is something he should be prepared for, but Tony's still a little stunned by how quickly Bruce just. Rolls up and off and sits away, waiting patiently. It's enough to startle a quiet chuff of laughter out of him as he rolls upright, palming the vape, slipping it between his lips as he peels shirt up and off, tossing it aside. The scar from the last mission is healed over in a shiny pink. The cuts Bruce bandaged all but gone, the reactor an eerily perfect circle in the center of his chest, shrapnel scars spattered outward across his collarbone, cutting against one shoulder.

Lean and lithely muscled, what smattering of chest hair he might've once had cut away with the skin that would've been under the reactor, leaving only the faint trail under his navel to contend with. He takes another slow drag, shifting to close the distance. No reason for Bruce to be all the way over there now, is it? Easy as breathing he settles in Bruce's lap, legs slung on either side of his hips. He's lighter of the two of them, it'll be easier for him anyway.

Smoke curls around his lips as he sits, arms looped around Bruce's shoulders, eyes bright. ]

What do I have to do to get you to take yours off?

Written request in triplicate.

[ He murmurs in answer, but it's breathy and distracted like doesn't even realize he's saying it. Really, it escapes his lips of it's own accord because is mind is firmly lost in the moment. In the way Tony settles into his lap, straddles him, presses down on him.

In this new and sudden shirtlessness, which... wow. Just. Wow. His hands splay, ride up Tony's back and shoulderblades until they're curling around behind him, the tips of his fingers almost visible at the curve of Tony's shoulders. They trail over muscles and ridges and scars and- yeah, he wasn't kidding about that whole shoulders kink. Not if his rapt fascination and the long lean line of his cock are any indication. ]

Let me get some paper-

[ He crackles a laugh, content to sit and touch, be touched in return. With Bruce's hands on his shoulders, feeling out the cap, the span of his shoulder blade, where they sink into the meat of his back? It's not the strangest thing someone's found fascinating about him. Curious and a little trollish he rolls his shoulders under Bruce's hand. Shrugs. Shifts. Flexes and tenses them, letting Bruce feel every subtle shift and twist.

It doesn't do much for him, probably like Bruce with the shotgunning, but- doing something that DOES it for Bruce? More than worthwhile. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

my blood is boiling; my brain's IBM

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject