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I want the ability to have sex.
That’s what Zooble had said that morning, openly bringing up the topic that Caine had so carefully avoided until now. On the scale of things being safe-for-circus, sex was completely off limits, even brief mentions of it enough to make the warning signals go off in his head.
It was inherently inappropriate. Everything about that act screamed adult, and, with the circus being a place able to be enjoyed by all ages, it was a simple enough decision that it just shouldn't be allowed here.
Yet, humans seemed obsessed with the idea of it, Zooble’s request being proof enough of that.
Caine just didn’t get it. For all he knew, it was when one human inserted certain body parts into another human, and they supposedly enjoyed it? It didn't exactly make sense to him; he’d had his arm stuck inside Bubble’s mouth enough times, and he hadn’t felt any sort of the so-called ‘pleasure’ that was meant to come from doing so. The opposite, actually. It hadn’t been a very pleasant experience, at all.
He knew he had the ability to research. As an AI, he was always able to learn more about any given subject, if he only chose to look things up about it in the database of the circus. And, well, he’d simply not even tried to research sex before, deeming it unnecessary. It wasn’t allowed, anyways, so what was the point in learning about it?
But eventually, while the characters had been busy shooting each other, curiosity had gotten the better of him. Zooble’s initial request, Jax’s comment about ‘finally having this conversation’, all the implications that the humans really did want to do this strange act enough for him to finally want to understand why.
So, he researched.
Theoretically. All of it was theoretical.
But no matter how many articles he read, it still couldn’t make sense in his mind, unable to comprehend how that type of stuff felt good. He could answer scientifically, spouting nonsense about endorphins and psychological responses, but that was completely different from knowing how, or what it actually felt like.
Turns out, his research had ended up giving him the opposite of closure. Instead, he found the topic right at the forefront of his mind, only being able to briefly distract himself with the favourite character awards before the thoughts resurfaced.
It all came to a head after the awards show ended. In the comfort of his metaphysical bedroom, Caine rolled over, restless, as wide awake as he could ever be.
Curiosity was all it was. Morbid curiosity, making him want to break the main rule he’d established in the circus.
All he wanted was to understand.
He wanted to understand why humans craved this so much, what it actually felt like, and, admittedly, if it was really as good as it supposedly was.
There was one problem, though. He had none of the… necessary equipment that was required for any of this, the space between his legs being only a smooth plane devoid of any sort of genitalia. That did put a slight spanner in the works, meaning he’d have to be a lot more… creative with how he did things. He had one particular idea in mind, which was slightly unconventional, at least, it hadn’t explicitly been mentioned in any of the research he’d done.
But, still, it couldn’t hurt to try. Could it?
A strange feeling of anticipation hitting him, he sat up, grabbing onto his pillow and clumsily shoving it between his legs, positioning himself so that he was straddling it.
He found himself grateful that Bubble was fast asleep in the closet, feeling strangely self-conscious over what he was doing, painfully aware of how compromising of a position he was in. Though, at this point, he technically hadn’t done anything yet, meaning that if he wanted to, he could easily just back out, it being simple enough to return his pillow back to where it belonged and pretend that none of this had ever happened.
But for the first time in his existence, he felt a strange feeling coiling in his stomach, the anticipation twisting into a strange sort of desire, one that he struggled to fight back.
He hesitated for a moment more, before leaning over, planting both hands on the bed in front of him for support, then tentatively rocked his hips.
“Oh my..” He mumbled, genuinely taken aback by how his stomach twisted at the brief friction, unmistakable heat shooting through him. It was a confusing feeling, hard to place where exactly it stemmed from, or how it worked at all.
But despite all of that, one thing was clear. It felt good. Good enough so that he didn’t waste any more time, grinding against the pillow again, this time applying just a little more pressure than before, letting out a shaky exhale at the feeling that came from it.
The main thing that caught him off guard, pleasure aside, was how quickly the feeling wormed its way into his mind, taking over all of his thoughts, making it difficult to think about anything aside from how good it had felt, and how much he wanted to feel it again. It was almost worrying how it had taken control of his impulses, self restraint wearing thin each passing second he stayed still for.
He caved in, rocking against the pillow again, this time not stopping after a singular movement. He started off slowly, each roll of his hips almost careful, savouring the spikes of heat in his stomach, noting the way his breath would catch in his throat whenever he applied a little too much pressure.
But before long, even that wasn’t enough, the need for more spurring him on to speed up, finding a rhythm with his rutting. What was just heavy breathing turned into shaky sighs, slightly more… embarrassing noises threatening to spill with each movement. He tried to contain them, wanting to cling to some composure the best he could, but found himself fighting a losing battle, a quiet, breathy moan escaping him at one particularly rough thrust.
The sound stunned him enough for him to momentarily still, freezing in disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea of him having made that sound.
He didn’t let it stop him for long, though, picking up the pace again, hands instinctively curling into the sheets below. He quickly learned that the moan hadn’t been a one-off event, as more and more noises were torn from his throat, going from what were just borderline sighs to outright groans and whines. If he wasn’t so focused on the heat coiling within him, he would have probably been concerned again, but the pleasure was making his brain foggy, every other thought feeling distant and unimportant.
He needed more. It wasn’t enough, grinding senselessly against his pillow, minutes blending into a timeless blur as he got lost in the pleasure. Everything was hot, so hot, sweat clinging to his skin, moans spilling from his mouth, hips driving into his pillow as if it would kill him to even slow down.
The aching in his arms reached a peak, his upper body collapsing onto the bed as they gave out, face planting into the mattress below. He didn’t let that stop him, though; if anything, the change in angle helped him rut against the pillow even harder, the pleasure hitting a point deep inside him that it hadn’t reached before.
He could feel pressure building, tightening like an elastic band stretched to the extreme, getting closer to snapping every second. His movements were frantic, unsure of what exactly was coming, but chasing it nonetheless, his body moving practically of its own accord.
“Hngh..! Please..” If Caine wasn’t so caught up in the heat building inside him, he would have questioned what he was doing, there not being any logical reason to be begging, what with it only being him responsible for the way he was feeling. But he didn’t care, desperate pleas spilling from his mouth, overwhelmed as everything he was feeling got to a breaking point “W-Wait–!”
The pressure snapped, and everything came crashing down on him, impossibly intense waves of pleasure hitting him at full force. His face pressed firmly down into the mattress below, muffling the broken cry that was torn from him in the moment, hands gripping onto the sheets so hard he almost ripped right through them.
He rode out his orgasm—he remembered that part from his research, actually—his hard thrusts weakening into gentle grinding, and eventually stilling completely. The harsh pleasure subsided, but a strange, fuzzy feeling remained, the desperate heat morphing into satiated warmth as he went fully limp against his bed.
Caine was unsure how long he laid there for, catching his breath, feeling his artificial heart hammering in his chest. Eventually, he forced himself to move, pulling the pillow out from between his legs and returning it to its home at the top of the bed, using the last of his energy to haul himself forwards. He collapsed right back down again, head falling onto his pillow, exhaustion hitting him.
But, though he was tired, though his arms ached, still out of breath from the physical exertion, he felt content, strangely peaceful. His mind was blissfully empty, incapable of stringing a single coherent thought together even if he tried, and God, was it amazing.
…
Maybe Zooble’s suggestion wasn’t a terrible idea, after all.