Work Text:
Marya Junková’s workshop, in Torse’s opinion, was a thing of beauty. It was tight, with an L-shaped bench made of warping planks, baubles and tools hanging from hooks over head, and enough scrap metal and junk crammed underneath every part of it - with just enough room for Marya’s legs to fit for when she was sitting at her stool - to make the room inhospitable to anyone who wasn’t willing to get tetanus or lose a finger. Torse didn’t have to worry about that, and so he was left to admire the beauty of it instead; the bumpy lines of solder holding the shell of a mounted gun she was repairing together, taking up most of the room in all 3 dimensions, the dangling glass baubles tied up with dyed rope, dusty from years of hanging, and the glitter of promise all around him. As an automaton, the knowledge of modification, repair, and progress was exciting.
Marya was tinkering at her spot in front of the only window in the room, which had been jammed open with a tin cup to let the morning air in, loosening the screws of Van’s prosthetic, now separated from Van’s shoulder after their battle under the sea.
“Good morning, Junker. I have an inquiry for you.” Torse announced from the door. Marya pushed her goggles up her face, plastering her bangs back against her head, as she swiveled on her stool to face him.
“Yes, good morning Torse, what can I help you with? You need repairs? Or could I interest you in a paddleball? They are not usually made of iron, but you work with what you have.” Marya produced a metal paddleball from the scrapheap, although the ball that was attached was more of a mangle of crumpled metal than a sphere. Marya did not smile, as she never did, but she did have an excited light in her eyes.
Instead, Torse paused. He intended to follow through in asking his request of Marya, but a wave of shyness washed over him - he wasn’t used to feeling all the niches of emotion yet. Anger was easy, was the default, to Torse, but things like frustration or annoyance that fit underneath anger were foreign, though he supposed that was the effect of Zood, iron heart or no. He prolonged the moment by entering the room and closing the door, leaving him pressed knee-joint to hip-joint against the gun mount, and with a hanging hammer resting on the left of his face in order to fit in the room at all. He envied Kočka in that moment, for his ability to exit his metal carapace at will.
Torse had the urge to clear his throat, but without the means to do so, he instead hummed lowly. “It is of a private nature. I understand you have a relationship to the crew of the Zephyr that is partially sustained by gossip, but I would greatly appreciate this being secret. Just between us.”
Marya gestured for him to continue, causing the paddleball to sway. Torse waited for the string to snap, but it held its ground. “That is no problem for me, Torse. You are a good friend, I do not wish to gossip about you unnecessarily. Now, ask me, I am on the edge of my stool.”
“I have been… conscious, my entire existence, but I feel as though I have only been truly alive for a matter of months. Where I come from, Autonoma, robots, we are created by the queen and have no reproductive instincts or organs, but in my time in Zood, I have felt more complex emotions begin to stir - fear, annoyance, joy, and… the matter at hand.” He paused as he watched Marya pay more attention as he continued to speak. She whipped a hand behind her to take the tin cup propping the window open out, causing it to fall closed again.
“There are prying ears everywhere. Continue.” She explained.
“I have found myself searching for stimulation. I am able to experience touch and pain, perhaps a cruel gift given to us from the queen so that we may experience the pain we inflict on others, although my understanding is that it is duller than a human’s - and I have thoughts about the act of love making. I do not have the ability to… ah… give or receive, I suppose, or reach climax. I wanted to inquire to see if you had the ability to construct an appendage for me to experience such sensations for myself.”
Marya continued to watch him for a beat after he finished speaking.
“I have to ask, before I answer - are these thoughts you have for me? Because I would be flattered, although I am not interested in males in particular. My apologies.” She said, holding her free hand open. Torse’s whole body felt hot.
“Not for you, I’m sorry. I find myself currently interested in men exclusively. This is… a surprisingly embarrassing conversation to have with you, I’m realising.” Says Torse, a jet of steam releasing from his back.
“You come in here asking for a robo-cock and you don’t think it will be awkward? I admire your optimism!” She turns around to clear a space on the workbench. “Then yes, I will try to do this for you my friend. Come here, there are specifics to discuss - I imagine you want it to be detachable or retractable in some capacity?”
“Ah, yes, it would make my life difficult otherwise.” He stepped forward carefully, peering over Junker’s shoulder as she unraveled fresh parchment and retrieved an unbroken piece of charcoal from a jar, covering her fingers in black dust.
“I have been tinkering with Van’s arm, and at its joint to where it mounted to the shoulder, it had a receiver that allowed Van to experience sensation in the arm when it was attached. If you let me run some wiring from your heart-” she began sketching a rough outline of Torse, circling the heart, “through your spine, likely, to protect the chords, to your pelvis, I can add some receiver ports here-” two circles on his pelvic plates, like an electrical socket, “and you can plug and unplug the appendage from there. If I’m imagining your circuitry correctly, although I will examine before I say anything with certainty, an orgasm will be an overload of your system, stimulation to the point of crashing - so we will have to make sure your steam offsets are up to date, otherwise your brain might melt sometime.”
As she spoke, a diagram came into view. Torse admired her ability to draw this well, and considered asking her for lessons in the future.
“I am happy to submit for any testing you deem necessary, Junker, but this seems like a good plan to me.” Said Torse.
“Eh, you’re lucky I have a good model to base it off of, and that I like you. I am curious, if you don’t mind me asking, as you know I like to hear the gossip - is there someone aboard the ship that has fired up your neurons, so to speak? If it is Daisuke, I will not judge.”
Torse lets out another low hum. “No, there is not. This is for… I suppose, when Zern and I are free, and I may live my life for myself.”
The lie, although it is not completely a lie, is crushed between his gears and fed into his wires. Marya turns her head enough to peer at him over her shoulder with squinted eyes. Torse feels panic in his chest, like she can see through his visor and into his head, where he fantasizes about the soft skin and hard muscles of a pugilist. They weren’t together, neither had made a pass at the other at all, but sometimes when they sparred, Torse felt a tension he hoped was not once sided. Perhaps Marya does have the ability to read robotic minds, as a skilled engineer, or maybe Torse is simply going mad.
“If you insist. I’ll start by having a look at your wiring, and then we’ll work from there. The longest part will honestly be figuring out a body-safe material for your weiner.” Said Marya, sing-songy in the way she gets when she was feeling cheeky.
The next few days, in between ship repairs and excursions to the ground, the pair of them manifested Torse’s dream in Marya’s workshop. She took the opportunity, while the crew was camping in a jungle for the night, to fire up her crucible, pouring stainless steel into a mould she made with Torse’s input, and she produced a metal phallus for mounting to the attachment point. Inside the steel was a rod that's base sat flush with Torse’s pelvis, and Marya explained that the extra point of contact should provide better sensation for the metal attachment. Marya carefully plugged in three wires travelling from Torse’s heart, down the hollow inside his spine, across his core, and against the front of his pelvis - Torse was on idle mode for this process, and was a little flustered at seeing the two neat ports now permanently drilled into his body when he came back to consciousness. They were innocent enough to anyone who didn’t know, but for Torse, it reminded him of his desires - maybe one day, Maxwell would notice them and ask about the new additions, and Torse could delight in showing him.
A pure fantasy, but Torse felt a tightness in his core at the thought. His body didn’t feel much different after the robotic surgery, but there was a restless energy mounting inside him.
After movement testing, ensuring the wires were properly secured and weren’t about to cause a malfunction, Marya and Torse sat in her workshop, the sunset shedding pink and blue light through the dirty window.
“Alright Torse, you should be all set, but we’re going to test it once in safe conditions before I set you loose with a new dick, okay? Clinical touches only.” Said Marya, holding his new attachment in both hands. Torse only nodded, waiting for her to plug it in.
The sensation was immediate, and he couldn’t help but take in a gasp of impossible air at the feeling. His heart felt hot in his chest, and he heard gears turning faster inside him - Torse could always feel temperature, but it was like the air around his cock was hot, too.
“I can definitely feel a difference.” He murmured.
“Okay, good to hear, can I touch?”
“Ah, yes, of course.”
The first touch was too much, in a way that was unpleasant. He squirmed away in a way he didn’t realise he could do as a robot.
“Too sensitive, I think.”
“I can fix that, don’t worry.” She said, opening his chest compartment to his heart. “I added a pressure gauge here, I’ll turn it down a little.”
With more tinkering, the sensation settled down. The next touch was grounding - better than before.
“That is acceptable, thank you.” He said, still deeply embarrassed by the situation at hand. “This has been… a strange experience for me, but I hope it has not damaged our relationship.”
Marya stood up from her stool. “It’s no problem, Torse - sorry I had to be the first to touch your wang instead of Gotch.”
A jet of steam erupted from Torse’s back as he straightened his metal spine, his hands immediately detaching his penis from his pelvis. “Please, do not gossip. It is a passing infatuation.”
Marya’s mouth twitched into a slight smile, the most she ever gives anyone. “Your secret is safe with me. I am going down to the mess hall to get drunk with the crew, do you want to come with?”
“I think I’ll retire for the evening, thank you.”
Marya and Torse left, one splitting off to go below deck and the other heading to the captain’s quarters. Marya had handed him a leather case to carry his new attachment in, which was as practical as it was deeply embarrassing. He immediately stuffed it underneath the pillow he had taken to disanimating on at night, and sat against the wall, ready to snooze for the evening.
It was silly, really, that he even asked for it. What if he tried to pursue Maxwell, and Max found him too strange and alien to ever hold feelings for? What was the point in commissioning a sexual attachment if the person he desired found him lacking? His fingers twitched involuntarily, reaching for the case under the pillow. There was a case to be argued, he thought to himself, that even if he was rejected, he could pleasure himself.
It was a guilty thing, the excitement that percolated in his core, at the thought of touching himself in his corner of the captain's quarters while the rest of the crew raged on downstairs. He had to find out what he liked somehow, he reasoned, it wouldn’t hurt to find out.
The plug shifted in smoothly, the wires to his ports humming to life under his touch. Torse was not unfamiliar with human sexuality, and he moved an awkward hand to circle his cock. This was grounding, comfortable, and a little stimulating - then he stroked upwards, and Torse felt his gears turn faster. His head thunked back against the wall of the captain’s quarters as he repeated the motion, feeling the joints of his hips chase the sensation upwards slightly. Oh he thought, oh, I get it. The movement brought a tight heat down his cock and through to his pelvis, making Torse feel light-headed for the first time in his life.
Maxwell didn’t knock before entering the captain’s quarters - he thought, considering he was sleeping there, there was no need, and even if the room was occupied, it was only Torse, who never minded an interruption. Or perhaps more accurately, Torse was never doing something that could be considered interruptable. When Maxwell entered this time, he saw something he’d never seen before - or at least, never seen an automaton do before.
Torse was stripping his cock, a cock Maxwell was sure he would’ve noticed by now if Torse had one, given how often they bodily sparred on the deck of the Zephyr. Torse stopped with a jolt, his hips chasing up into the tight heat of his hand involuntarily, chasing the pleasure he was experiencing. Max was caught in the doorway, staring at him with an increasingly red face.
“My apologies, I came to see if you were well or needed,,, ah,,, company.” Said Max stiffly. He was still staring down at where Torse’s hand wrapped around his shiny cock.
“I see. I am… currently occupied.”
“I see that.”
“Right.”
The pair stared at each other, the cold night breeze making its way past Maxwell into the room.
“I feel as though I have to ask… you didn’t have that before, correct?” Max asked, finally breaking eye contact to stare at the far wall.
“It is a recent addition.” Breathes Torse, feeling complete mortification wash over him in waves. He was sitting on the floor jerking himself off for the first time, and now someone had seen. “It is detachable.” He said, as if it made anything make sense.
“Ah, very good.” Said Max, who was looking quite red and sweaty. “Not that it- my opinion is not relevant.”
“Maxwell, you are letting the cold air in.” Said Torse, trying to get Max to leave. Instead, Max nodded and took another step into the room before closing the door.
“Apologies, Torse.”
“Maxwell, you are aware that I am… masturbating, currently, correct?” Torse felt his core clench and his head heat up, caught between embarrassment and lust. “Do you intend to watch me?”
Maxwell’s eyes darted back to Torse for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I admit I’m curious about it. Would that be unwanted?”
Torse resisted the urge to groan at the question. “It would be very wanted. I-I want that.”
“Incredible.” Said Maxwell, who sank to his knees in front of Torse, close enough to touch. Torse began to stroke again, slower this time – he felt the heat of Max’s gaze on him, both flustered and aroused by being the subject of attention. Torse experimented with twisting his hand on the upstroke, letting out a mechanical sigh as his hips bucked up into his hand. As he was distracted, he didn’t notice Maxwell moving until he felt two strong hands pin his thighs down.
“Ah, Maxwell- you're- what- what do you-”
“Would it be untoward if I asked to touch you myself?” He rasped, sounding dry in the throat. Torse let go of his cock quickly, and grasped Maxwell’s hand in his before guiding it to touch him.
Torse’s head immediately thunked back against the wall again, overwhelmed with the new sensation. His own hand was good, but the anticipation of having someone else touch him – soft skin, strong muscles – when did Max take his glove off? - squeezing enough for the pressure to change – Max pressing himself to Torse’s chest and mouthing at his faceplate – and he felt himself tip into orgasm.
It was like an overwhelming wave of heat and input, of sensation and static from pelvis to heart, and he could feel himself fucking up into the tight heat of Max’s palm as jets of steam poured from his outputs before sinking down like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut.
“How did that feel?” Asked Max. Torse saw a hunger in his eyes that was still unsatisfied.
“I don’t know how people are not doing that constantly.” He admitted, and Max barked a laugh. Torse’s hands immediately went to Maxwell’s strong thighs as they bracketed his in his lap, squeezing them affectionately. “Would you like me to make you cum, Maxwell Gotch?”
Max held onto Torse’s cast iron spikes and ground himself bodily down upon Torse’s cock, and both men sighed at the contact.
“Yes, I think you should show me what your new appendage can do.”
Torse stood while supporting Maxwell’s weight, causing the man to laugh again. Torse eased him to the ground, and Max began to strip on his way to the bed.
This sight was not entirely unfamiliar to Torse, who often wrestled Max while he was shirtless, which was also the source of much of his pining towards the man. The sweaty chest and carefully hewn back muscles, the elegant scars and dark hair... it was all so different to Torse, and so human. He couldn’t help but follow Max, trailing a hand over back muscles with appreciation.
“I should confess, I have imagined this with you before.” Said Torse as a very naked Maxwell lay down on the bed, pulling Torse towards him by hooking his fingers into Torse’s chestplate. Torse felt the bed groan under his weight as he kneeled over Maxwell, eyes trailing up and down his body.
“You’ve imagined me naked?” Asked Max, a little coyly. He seemed slightly flustered by being underneath the large automaton above him. Torse trailed a hand from clavicle to stomach, slowly feeling Max’s body in a way he hadn’t been able to do before.
“Yes, but I imagined pinning you while sparring. I imagined you naked and me with my cock, wrestling you to the ground and trying to make you submit – you never back down, never surrender in a fight, so I imagined fucking you into submission. I thought about holding both of your legs back, by the back of your thighs...” and Torse moved his hands to do so, slowly, carefully, ready to stop if Max told him to. Torse pinned Maxwell’s legs back as Max watched him with half-lidded eyes, and Torse watched Max’s cunt open slightly, already glistening and wet. “Then pressing inside you, and driving you to orgasm. Over and over again until you admitted your loss to me.”
“I would not admit it.” Breathed Max, although the glassy look in his eye made Torse consider the possibility of Max lying to him. Torse moved so that his cock rested on top of Max’s spread cunt, and Maxwell groaned at the cold touch.
“Then, how many orgasms would it take for you to pass out? I wouldn’t stop otherwise.”
Maxwell grabbed Torse’s back spikes and yanked him down until they were chest to chest. “If you don’t fuck me right now, you will never find out.”
Torse let out another just of steam, taking one hand off one of Maxwell’s thighs in order to line himself up with Max’s entrance. He teased the head of his steel cock over it, testing how hard to push in for the cock to catch inside, before pressing his hips towards Max’s slowly. The hand went back to pushing Maxwell’s leg back, and the both of them watched the inches of cock disappear inside Maxwell. Soon, Torse and Maxwell were flush with each other, and Torse could feel the tight wet heat around him completely, like a vise grip. Where they met, Max’s swollen clit brushed his cast iron plating, and Max took in labored breaths beneath him.
“So full...” Mumbled Maxwell, face full of bliss. “This weight is incredible.”
“You feel... indescribable. Maxwell, how do I... I want to please you.” Stuttered Torse. Maxwell moved a hand down to his clit and showed how he bracketed it with two knuckles and stroked it.
“Like this- bring your hand here and grind it between your knuckles. Not too much on the top, but you don’t need to be delicate.”
And Torse did what he was told, feeling the organ twitch at his touch, stroking and massaging it while Maxwell sighed and tilted his head back. Torse pulled his cock out, just a little, before rocking back inside, causing Max to let out a strangled noise he hastened to cover with a hand over his mouth.
“Good?” Asked Torse, “or bad?”
“Very good, very very good, Torse. You can fuck much harder than that.”
“Maxwell I do not wish to hurt you.”
“You will not.” Snapped Max. “I like to be hurt, especially like this.”
“You will tell me if it is too much, correct?” Clarified Torse, who already felt fit to cum again.
“Yes, now on with i-” Max was cut off by a rough thrust from Torse, who set a pace with his cock in tandem with the stroke of his knuckles. Thrust in, stroke down, pull out, stoke up. It had Maxwell choking back moans immediately as the stainless steel was driven back inside him over and over, feeling his cunt constrict around the weight. He felt pinned by the hand on his thigh, pinned by Torse’s size, and pinned by the cock all at once, and Max felt, for the first time, completely at the mercy of another man’s drilling.
Torse fucked like he was fighting, brutal and fast and passionate. He chased his orgasm like Max was a toy, because he knew that Max was enjoying every moment of being used. The room was filled with the sound of Max squelching around Torse and Torse’s mechanical joints moving rapidly. Max felt like he would have a hand shaped bruise tomorrow, maybe some scrapes from the cast iron smacking into his ass, pussy and thighs. There was no better feeling for Max than to be surrounded by hard planes of metal.
Max came with a moan, and Torse felt his strong thighs fight to snap closed, his tight channel squeezing around his cock, making Torse feel like Max’s muscles were somehow reshaping the steel itself, and Torse followed Max. He fought to stay upright, not wanting to crush max, and ended up completely pressed inside him and on top of him, chin tucked next to Max’s head on the pillow, ankles hooked over Torse’s shoulders.
They were both slow to come back down, Torse carefully pulling out of Max before detaching the appendage from his pelvis. He understood that unlike himself, Max needed recovery time. Torse set the cock aside and rearranged the two of them so that Torse could lie down on his front next to Maxwell as to not bury his spikes into the mattress. Max rolled towards him without hesitation moving a hand to Torse’s back.
“Thank you for that, I don’t think I’ve been so thoroughly fucked in my whole life – I'm definitely going to be bruised tomorrow.” Said Max, keeping his tone light. Torse turned his head to look at Max next to him, feeling his heart whirr in his chest.
“I must admit, Maxwell, that I have feelings for you that are romantic in nature.” Torse said quietly, and he watched Maxwell’s face flush again.
“Yes, well,” he paused, looking flustered. “I have feelings for you too, although they were probably obvious from your perspective.”
“Ah, I did not know that. I have difficulties with reading people, I’m afraid.” Said Torse, moving to brush some hairs back into place on Maxwell’s head.
“No matter now I suppose, but you were not the only one impacted by our sparring. It is perhaps a pattern of mine, over the course of my sexual history.”
“Mm, that makes sense.” And the two nuzzled closer, Max’s forehead against Torse’s faceplate.
“I have to ask, how did you acquire your...?” Max trailed off.
“Marya constructed it for me, it was a great kindness.”
Maxwell looked suddenly wide-eyed and sat upright, causing Torse’s arm to slide off him.
“That devil, she told me downstairs to come check on you! She knew you were- the absolute cheek of her!”
Torse felt embarrassment bubble in his chest again, but alongside it, he felt affection. That Junker knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.