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Androids Don\'t Cry	By : naughtywriter Category: +. to F > Big O Views: 1815 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Big O, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Androids Don't Cry
- 1
Beck could hear the brisk clicking of a pair of high heels steadily making
their way down the stairs, so the soft knock at the door came as no surprise.
"Why, Miss Wayneright, whatever brings you here?" he greeted her.

"You know why I'm here," she said, stepping into the room without
waiting for an invitation.

He knew exactly what had brought her to him, but he liked to have a little
fun with her. "Look at you, all dressed up. If I saw you on the street I'd
hardly recognize you."

Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing. He took a moment to admire the pretty
blue dress she was wearing before stepping behind
her. He kissed the curve of her neck and whispered in her ear, "What's the
magic word?".

"Now," she answered, turning to face him and pushing him backwards
towards the bed.

So. She didn't want to play. Jason allowed himself to be pushed on to the
mattress, pulling her down with him. He slid one hand under the dress and over
her thighs and used the other hand to locate and unfasten the tiny buttons that
ran down the back of the dress. She was already wet enough that he could feel it
right through her panties. "Careful, this is my favorite
suit," he said as she unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down.

He kicked off his shoes and wriggled around a bit so the pants followed--in
this mood, she'd rip them to shreds if they were in her way. She took his cock
firmly in hand and he sucked in his breath. "Slow down or this is going to
be over before it gets started," he warned. "Sit up for a sec."

She slowed down her stroking long enough to do as he asked, and he pulled the
dress down over her shoulders. "Very nice," he said, guiding her back
down to the bed so he could slide the dress over her hips. "That
color suits you." The lacy undergarments were a warm, pale peach color that
lent a subtle glow to her too-white skin.

"Do you ever stop talking?" she asked suddenly.

He disengaged her hand from his member and knelt between her legs, grinning
down at her. "Never," he said. "It keeps my tongue
exercised."

"I've got some exercise for your... " she let the words trail off
and relaxed back against
the mattress, closing her eyes as Jason took off her panties and urged her
thighs further apart. Going down on her wasn't his favorite thing--he didn't
much care for the taste of the whatever it was that lubricated her--but he knew
the substance wouldn't do him any harm, and he also knew that it was the easiest
and fastest way to pop her off. She'd waited too long, as usual. Once a little
of that tension was released, it would be a lot more fun for both of them.

He knew exactly what she liked--this had been happening for how long now? Had
it really been three years? Roger Smith had exceeded Jason's low opinion of
him--he would have thought it would take a year, two at most, for Mr. Paradigm
City Negotiator to succumb to Miss Wayneright's now very visible charms. Jason
bent his head down and ran his tongue over her perfectly human-looking pussy, mixing
lubricant and spit until she was slick with it.

She twined her fingers in his hair, her hips rising slightly as she tried to
angle her clit closer to his tongue. He could feel the tension in her hands, a
direct result of her forcing herself to be gentle despite the urgency of her
desire. He didn't tease, not when she was like this. As soon as she felt
slippery
enough, he thrust two fingers inside her, simultaneously covering her clit with
his mouth.

"That's good," she gasped as his fingers and mouth worked
rhythmically. He let the rocking of her hips guide his speed, keeping his pace steady. Her body tensed, relaxed, tensed
again, and he increased the pressure of his mouth and tongue ever so slightly. A
few heartbeats later, she was shuddering and crying out and he could feel her
cunt tightening over his fingers.

As the spasms slowed, he angled his fingers to press upwards, sucking
harder and faster, and within a moment she was coming again, even more intensely
than the first time.

He withdrew and sat up, patting her thigh affectionately.
"Better?" he asked.

She didn't even open her eyes. "Yes," she said.

He ran his hands over her thighs again, gratified to find only smooth
flesh where there had once been the ugly scar from Alan Gabriel's bullets--it took a while for the gel component of the patch to settle and merge
properly with the surrounding area. The tiny, semi-rigid tubes he'd used to
provide a framework to repair the damaged circulatory system had taken a bit
longer to dissolve, but they were gone now. It was as though she'd never been
damaged..

Norman Burg was very competent and had done an excellent job of repairing the
structural damage, but he didn't have the Memories to restore the rest. Still,
credit where credit was due--the old geezer knew what he did not know, and he'd
managed to do a very solid temporary repair without making things worse. He hadn't
cut any of the internal sensor wires, just capped them off and sealed the torn edges of each damaged...
artery? vein? ...their analogues, anyway, and he'd been careful to use a
flexible compound to cover the bare metal of her repaired "skeleton"
so that movement wouldn't tear the whole patch open.

Jason's hands continued down to her ankles. The calf scars had been a bit more complex--he could still feel the framework
tubes, but they were slowly getting softer and thinner.
"Admiring your work?" she asked, her voice still a little blurry.
"Naturally," he said, moving over so he could lie down next to her.
He slid his hands around her back to unhook the bra and eased the straps over
her arms. She'd want a few more minutes, but there was no hurry. In the
meantime, he amused himself by playing with her nipples, gently rolling each in
his fingers in turn until they were both erect.
That particular mission accomplished, he ran a lazy hand over the smooth,
flat belly and continued on to the curve of her hip. She was perfect in every
way save one, and Jason sometimes thought that if Timothy Wayneright had been
alive, he would have personally killed the man with his bare hands instead of
letting his flunky do it by accident.
How could the bastard have denied her the ability to cry? Jason often found
himself thinking that a good cry would do more for her than all the fucking in
the world. For all that he didn't want Roger Idiot Smith to have her, he wanted
even more for her to be happy. If she
could cry, then maybe she'd have a chance to get over the worthless fool. At the
least, it wouldn't let Crow Boy kid himself that his failed attempts to form
relationships with other women didn't hurt her.
Still, that very lack was how it all began. Alex Rosewater had ordered him
down to the lab to acquire her memories. They'd... abused her prior to summoning
him. Despite the expressionless face, the silent pain in her eyes affected him
more than he would have believed possible, much more than tears could have done. He'd used
Rosewater's fear for the safety of the memories to buy himself some time
and brought her to his own quarters so she could clean up. Her dress was torn beyond repair, but his
robe was adequate to give her some small measure of dignity.
They didn't talk a lot, although he'd asked her if there was any last request she wanted to
make. This was, after all, an execution, and it seemed only fair.
In hindsight, her choice was obvious, especially given what had just been
done to her. All she needed was a decent quantity of water to activate the circulatory
system in her skin. In about twenty minutes, she was soft and warm to the touch,
and much, much more sensitive. He'd always thought she was pretty in an artistic
sense, but the transformation made her downright sexy. It didn't take him
long to kiss her, and the rest after that was a blur of pleasure mixed with sharp moments of
clarity, like the look on her face the first time she came, and the feel of her
arms around him, and the way she
leaned her head against his shoulder afterwards.
He didn't like to remember the rest, and was happy to be rescued by a firm
hand on his dick. "Ready for more?" he cupped a breast and
took the nipple into his mouth. This was what he'd been looking forward to--now
that she was feeling more relaxed, she'd give just as good as she got.
By now she knew him just as well as he knew her, and the pressure of her hand
eased. Jason preferred to defer his pleasure for as long as he could stand it.
Coming two or three times was nice, but coming once when he'd been hovering on
the edge of ecstasy for an hour or two was even better. She hadn't said anything
at all about time, which meant there was plenty of it.

He switched sides so that the other nipple wouldn't feel neglected and ran
his hand over her ass. She turned towards him and he guided her topmost leg over
his hips and ran his hand over her ass again, briefly dipping between her legs
to tease at her clit and then returning to where he'd started.

He traced her collarbone with his lips, moving up her neck until his mouth
was against her ear. "You are so fucking sexy," he breathed. "Gonna
fuck you until you scream." She didn't say anything, but the pressure of
her hand intensified enough to make him gasp with pleasure. "Yeah, just
like that, god you're fucking amazing." The steady stream of delighted
obscenities was turning her on; he could feel it in the way she was responding.
She actually moaned as his fingers made their way back to her pussy.

She abruptly pushed him on to his back and straddled his hips. Well, if
you were going to get fucked... Jason settled back in happy anticipation as she
rubbed his cock between her legs. He might not care for the taste, but the
feel... God, yeah! She eased down on him, frictionless save for the
comfortably snug grip of her inner walls. Just right... he loved it when
she did this. He shifted slightly to alleviate a spot of pressure on his hip that
would quickly turn into a bruise if he ignored it. Care in choice of
position and the reinforcing of the bed frame when he'd realized that her visits
were going to be a regular occurrence were the only times he paid attention to
the fact that she weighed more than he did. "Oh,
yeah fuck me, Dorothy."
He watched through half-closed eyes as she rose and fell over his cock, one
moment lifted high enough that he involuntarily held his breath in anticipation
of losing the connection, then down again, the full length of him plunging deep
inside her. He liked seeing the intent expression on her face as she concentrated,
even more than he liked seeing his dick appear and disappear as she fucked him.
He lay his hands on the top of her thighs, and she grabbed his wrists and
pinned them down by his sides. "No," she said. He wiggled around a
bit to see how serious she was and she gripped tighter. He took a deep breath to
contain the sudden wave of excitement--to have a woman who could easily break
you in half take charge during sex was one of the most deliciously erotic things
in the entire universe.
"You like that," she observed.
"I like just about everything you... aaah!" The little internal squeeze
she added to the next down stroke completely derailed his train of thought.
"Fucking amazing!"
"No more talking," she said. "Hold still."
So she really wanted to be in charge. It was one of their most
enjoyable little games, and he gladly gave over to her wishes. It wasn't
long before he was covered with a light sheen of sweat, trying desperately to
breathe as she teased him almost to the point of madness, stopping every time he
didn't do exactly as she said until his world narrowed down to her face
and her voice and the things she was telling him to do and the incredible
pleasure of what was turning out to be one of the most mind-shattering fucks of
his entire life.
Her rhythm suddenly faltered, slowing down enough that he was able to reclaim
a tiny portion of conscious thought. She was, he realized, about to come, and
she was fighting it and losing. She managed to contain herself by stopping
briefly, but the moment she began moving again, the sensations overwhelmed her.
She made a sound of sheer frustration. "Let it go," he whispered, but
she was too close and couldn't sufficiently coordinate her movements. He slipped
out from under her and grabbed the pillows and stacked them in front of her,
pushing lightly between her shoulder blades. He pushed again a little harder and
she obediently shifted forward and settled on her elbows, the pillows supporting
her hips.
His dick was so hard it almost hurt. He moved behind her and guided
himself back inside her, as deep as he could get. She made a whimpering sound,
spreading her legs wider and he grabbed her hips to get her to a slightly better
angle. He pulled back and plowed into her again, and she pushed up against him
to bring him in even deeper. Oh fuck yes fuckyes fuckyesfuckyesfuckyes.
There was no more holding back. He pounded into her hard, his balls slapping wetly against her with
each thrust. Fucking glorious. Fucking glorious. She was shaking and
panting and pleading with him to fuck her harder, dancing on the edge with him
until he couldn't hold back any longer. He reached one hand around to stroke her
clit directly and a second later she was coming, her spasms tipping him over the
edge right along with her.
When he finally had control of his limbs again, he began moving very slowly,
just so he wouldn't completely lose his hard-on. "Still with me?" he
asked her, his voice husky from the exertion.
"No," she replied after a long pause.
He patted her flank. "Turn over," he said.
A sigh was the only answer. So he'd worn her out, had he? He took a few more
strokes and withdrew. "Turn over," he repeated. With his assistance,
she managed to roll on to her back, although she didn't open her eyes. He
positioned himself over her, entering her much more gently this time. "Kiss me,
Dorothy," he brought his mouth down to hers.
She cooperated briefly, then turned her head. "Please don't," she
murmured.
This was not unexpected. R. Dorothy Wayneright was perfectly willing to fuck his
brains out, trying any position or perversion that he could think of, with no
shame or guilt about it. Making love, however, was another matter entirely.
Ironically, as time passed and more and more of his fantasies were
enthusiastically fulfilled, it became what he valued the most. He was not the
man he used to be. She had changed him, and the Jason Beck who had gotten
himself painted into a corner when the world was ending seemed almost like a stranger now.
He took her chin and turned her head back to face him, noting the almost
complete lack of resistance. She was worn out, all right. "Look at
me," he insisted. He was feeling happy and relaxed, and it was hard for him
to get the proper stern tone in his voice, but he knew that if he did not, it
wouldn't work. She opened her eyes and
stared directly at him, but said nothing.
"We made a deal, didn't we?" he asked, and waited for the tiny nod
of agreement. "If you aren't happy with
that, you know you can find yourself a lover who suits you better--it just won't
be me."
"You suit me just fine," she said, and closed her eyes again,
silently consenting.
Their deal was nothing elaborate, but after her third or fourth visit, he had
realized that if he didn't stand up for himself pretty damn quick, he'd find he was in the same
boat as she was--hopelessly in love with someone who completely ignored your
feelings. If all she wanted was a sex toy, she needed to look elsewhere. He
didn't expect her to love him--hell, sometimes he wondered if she even liked
him--but she could damn well treat him with respect.
He
kissed her again, his movements slow and gentle. She needed tenderness almost as much as
she needed a good cry.
She was beautiful when she was like this, all soft and warm and yielding. It was no accident that
her energy stores were so depleted that she was quite literally incapable of
stopping him---it was a temporary solution to a complicated problem. There were times when all she wanted was to put down the
burden of her existence, put the pain aside and stop thinking for a while. It was a temporary
oblivion, and he saw no harm in it.
She couldn't ask him to make love to her--that would feel like too much of a
betrayal. If she couldn't really stop him from doing what he wanted, on the
other hand, she could allow herself to accept it. It had been a little confusing
at first, but really, it made perfect sense, given the circumstances.
He could feel her quiver as he ran his hands lightly over her skin. In her
current state, there was nothing for her to do but feel. She needed
that, too. Sex for R. Dorothy Wayneright was a delicate balancing act. There was
a limit to the amount of data that she could process at any given moment, and
once she approached that limit, an increase in input was only achieved with a
corresponding sacrifice of output, and vice-versa.
She had the knack of it now--she seldom lost control the way she had earlier.
He'd made damn sure she understood that it could and did happen to humans, and
she'd driven him to complete distraction enough times to know he'd told her the
truth.
He kissed her closed eyelids, running his fingers through the silky strands
of her hair. He brushed one side back and lightly nipped at the exposed earlobe.
She sighed softly as his tongue delicately traced the outer edge of her ear.
He nibbled at the lobe for a moment more and lightly kissed her neck,
leaving a trail of caresses all the way to her shoulder.
She shifted her legs slightly wider, inviting him to move faster, but he
continued with the same slow rhythm. He knew it was pleasure that was motivating
her rather than any kind of wish to get things over with. She liked
to be touched this way.
"Jason..." she whispered his name as his mouth found her breast.
She slid her hands around his back, pulling him closer. "Jason, please..."
He hushed her with more kisses, wrapping his arms around her as he worked
himself into a position where he'd hit just the right spot. He felt her
lock her fingers together around his waist as he moved a little
faster.
He held her tightly, maintaining full control over the depth and power of his
strokes, alternating between long, deep thrusts and short shallow strokes until
she was writhing against him, so immersed in the sensations that she was unaware
that her soft sighs had turned into a low, steady moan.
He knew she'd come in an instant if he returned to a more regular rhythm, but
he continued to tease her with his dick. It shouldn't be too much longer now... there.
It was subtle but unmistakable. She was no longer trying to urge him faster or
deeper or harder. Now she moved with him, action and reaction, their
bodies in perfect harmony. She had put herself entirely in his hands, her
surrender complete.
"I love you, Dorothy," he murmured, and felt her arms tighten ever
so slightly. She needed to hear it, even if she didn't return his feelings. She
was a joy, a treasure, a goddess, and he told her so, punctuating the tender
words with slow, deep kisses, keeping her at the edge of coming until she
was barely capable of kissing him back.
He knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. He pumped into her once, twice, three times...
it was all she needed. He could feel the spasms
beginning inside her, and he matched his movements to their rhythm.
"Jason," she gasped, the word somewhat garbled but recognizably his
name. His mouth locked on to hers and he held her tightly as she convulsed
in the longest orgasm he'd ever seen her experience.
He didn't allow himself to come until he was sure it was over, and even then,
the spasms of his release were enough to trigger a final answering shudder
inside her. He collapsed on top of her, too exhausted to even pull out.
Some indeterminate time later, he felt her stir beneath him. He thought that
she was probably trying to leave without waking him, but then he realized she'd
only been reaching for the covers. He awkwardly rolled off of her. "I
didn't mean to wake you," she said. "I just didn't want you to get
cold."
The room was chilly, but his bladder didn't care. "It's all
right," he said, groaning as his muscles protested his sitting up and
swinging one leg over the side of the bed. "I probably would have woken up
pretty quick anyway."
He was shivering by the time he returned from the bathroom. "I need to
rest a bit more," she said in answer to his inquiring look.
"As long as you like, you know that," he said, glad that she was
staying a while longer. He got back into the bed and rearranged the pillows so
that she could rest her head against his shoulder. "You're nice and
warm," he said, pulling her close.
He had almost gone back to sleep when she spoke. "I think that it's hard
to do a good job of loving someone when you're ashamed that you love them,"
she said.
He came alert instantly. Dorothy wasn't one for pillow talk, so if she said
something after sex, he paid
attention. "I'd tend to agree," he said by way of neutral
encouragement. Surely she didn't think--
"You are not ashamed of loving me." Okay, so this didn't have
anything to do with him..
"No, I'm not," he confirmed, and waited.
"You don't mind that I'm an android," she said. "It doesn't
matter if I'm not the same as a human."
"There's not much difference," he said. It was true. For all that
he had the Memories of how she was put together, most of her processes were analogous
to human ones, and he tended to label them as such. She didn't have a heart,
she had a pump, but it created a pulse that he could feel. She didn't breathe,
but she could take in air and send it out again as an additional method of
heat exchange. If she was exerting herself, she would "breathe"
faster. She needed to rest after expending a certain amount of energy. She
had recognizable orgasms, and it was clear that she found them enjoyable.

There were people who cared that these effects were produced by mechanical
methods instead of by a human body, but Jason wasn't one of them. Walks like a
duck, quacks like a duck... he didn't give a shit about the deeper
ramifications. She was, for all intents and purposes, a woman, and that was good
enough for him.

She was, he suddenly realized, talking about Roger Smith.. "You think
that Crow Boy is ashamed of you?" he asked, tacitly offering permission to
discuss it. Generally the topic of his rival was completely off-limits,
but he sensed that this was terribly important.

"Of how he feels," she corrected. "I don't fit his... his rules."

She was probably right, but it wasn't Jason's place to say so. "Maybe
so," he said.

"I can't fix that," she said, her tone bleaker than he'd ever heard
it.

"No, you can't," he said quietly. It was a bitter pill for a human
to swallow. For someone like Dorothy, who saw the world in terms of problems and
solutions, it was devastating. He would have given anything to have spared her
the knowledge, for all that it was inevitable.

"It hurts," she
whispered. "Norman... Norman thinks I should leave." If Norman was
telling her to leave, things had to have gotten pretty bad.

And she couldn't cry about it.

The man he used to be would have told her that Smith was a jerk and she would
be better off without him, but Jason Beck was no longer that man. He
didn't know when he'd gotten so introspective, but it was obvious to him that
this wasn't really about Roger Smith at all-- what hurt was the loss of her...
innocence. Yes, that was a good word. She was losing her hopes. Her dreams. Even
harder, she was losing faith in the idea that, given enough time and effort on
her part, she could make everything come out right.

He didn't think that the belief in and of itself was a bad thing, any more
than it was a bad thing for a child to believe that things would be fair, and
that good things came to those who followed the rules. It was just that there
were limits to how far it could take her, and now that she had reached that
limit, she had no idea what to do.
If Smith could have been honest with her, that would have helped too. She
wouldn't have been happy about it, but she would have been able to accept it, in
time. But Roger hadn't been honest with her, because to say
"Dorothy, I'm insanely in love with you but I just can't bring myself to
have the whole world know about it" would have sounded cowardly, and that
would have interfered with his comfortable mental picture of himself as man of
honor and character.
Now Jason was on familiar ground. Over the last few years, as he had answered
Dorothy's puzzled questions about why he did the things he did, he had gotten an
awfully good view of the huge divide between his internal picture of himself and
the man that the rest of the world saw. It had been one of the most hateful
truths he'd ever had to accept, but when he came out of the funk, he found he
was better for the experience.
That understanding guided him now. "Do you remember how long it took me
to figure out the reason I was always getting myself into trouble?" he
asked, holding her closer. "It was pretty obvious, but I always had an
excuse--I was unlucky, someone was out to screw me over..." He felt her
nod. "You helped me with that," he said. "I know you weren't
trying to, but when you asked me questions about why I would say one thing and
do another, it made me really think about things."
He stroked her hair. "You and I made a deal," he said. "We
promised to tell each other the truth. Do you do that with Roger? When he brings
some girl home and it makes you unhappy, do you tell him that? Do you tell him
you don't understand why he's doing what he's doing? Do you ask him why he says
he believes one thing but does another?"
She said nothing as she considered his words. "No," she finally
admitted. "I don't say anything about it at all."
"Maybe you should," Jason said, and left it at that. He'd made his
point, and she was smart enough to realize that while it might not give her the
result she hoped for, it would at least break the impasse--and that, in his
opinion, was what was hurting her the most.
"I'm not being very fair to you, am I?" she asked after a long,
long silence.
He had almost fallen back asleep, but he pushed himself back to wakefulness.
"Probably not," he said drowsily, "but at least you're being
honest about it. I'll let you know if I don't want to deal with it any
more."
"I have some thinking to do," she said. "I probably won't
visit for a while." He nodded. He'd expected as much.
"I know," he said. "I love you anyway."
He felt her hand against his face, and he opened his eyes to find her looking
directly at him. "I know," she said. She brushed her lips lightly
against his, the first time she had ever kissed him on her own. "Thank
you", she said, curling up to him comfortably. "I think..." she
said after another long pause, "I think that this is also a kind of
love." With that settled to her satisfaction, she closed her eyes, mind and
body finally at rest.
Jason lay awake for a long time after. He had no idea what she would finally
decide, and he refused to permit himself to speculate. He concentrated instead
on the way she felt in his arms, making a memory that would help him through the
pain if he had to let her go.
Still, he had the strangest feeling that one day in the not-too-distant
future, she would return.
If she did, he knew it would be for keeps.
- 1
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Androids Don\'t Cry