Fumbling Towards Ecstacy
Day 30: Overstimulation
It's times like these that she's sure V2 enjoys having this particular advantage over her.
"You bassss--ta--ard... !" Sawtoothed tones and static-laden curses burst from Mirage's voicebox as release slams into her once more. Somewhere beyond the reward signals overloading her processors and filling her head with static, she thinks they might be laughing.
Both threats and pleas start to rise to the back of her speaker, but she can't get it to reconnect. Their entire frame is crowding her upper body against the shower wall, and half-shielding her from the spray of water long gone lukewarm. Her legs nearly buckle, barely even able to keep her upright as strength begins to flee her limbs.
The hand wrapped loosely around her cock tightens again. Error messages flood Mirage's vision like a deluge of spring rain, and they only get worse with every stroke.
"R--Red--'' She at last manages the moment her vocal modules reboot, and it only encourages them further. She's barely able to even come down before their pace picks up again, methodical and calculated. They've long since figured out exactly how to make her fall apart under their touch. It's so much; it's too much. She's sure can't take any more of this--
Blinding white noise overtakes her optic in pulsating beats that she can feel down to her very wires, momentarily knocking every one of her senses offline. It's V2's overbearing bulk, practically pinning her against the smooth tile, that keeps her upright now. They hold her there until her legs stop shaking, until her fans whine down to safer speeds.
Mirage barely registers being guided to the floor of her shower, and eased onto her knees, by the other machine. His hand at last releases her cock, giving her a precious few more moments to recover even marginally. Cool water hits her chest and neck in full force now, dripping from every inch of the outer ring of her helm. All the while, V2's hand eagerly gropes the rest of her body, paying fervent attention to her chest. Her visuals flicker into darkness, and her balance gyros plunge into momentary malfunction.
And then she's staring up at them, their optic light half-dimmed, and swimming with lust. The shower wall just barely supports the small of her back, and her feet press against the other end of the alcove.
"One more." They crone, moving to straddle her. Mirage lets out a helpless whine when his folds brush along her tip, wet with lubricant and desperately wanting. She's not--oh, fuck she wants to, but she's not sure if her systems will survive another overload.
"Just one more. For me."
V2 sinks down onto her still-pressurized cock without further fanfare. Her optic and audial inputs both short out with a dulled pop of overheating sensory nerve ends. It takes an embarrassing amount of time to restart it, locked in the dark with nothing but pain and pleasure to keep her company. Mirage comes back to the obscene sound of their colliding bodies, metal against metal echoing off the tiles of her cramped apartment bathroom.
"Fu--uuck," her voice skips and stutters. Every wire is alight with surges of intoxicatingly electric agony, on the verge of boiling over once again. "I--I can't... pl--easssse--"
Their hand swiftly descends upon their own clit, and slick, silicone walls clench down on her. The security bot's broken moan cuts out with a jagged burst of static. She can't get her arms to obey her, to grab at his hips, and either make them stop, or pull them down even harder as he rolls them down onto hers own over and over-
And then she is being overwhelmed by fire-hot euphoria coursing through her entire body. RAM recollection bursts in bright yellows and magentas and cyans through the endless white noise. She's vaguely aware of her her joints sparking dangerously, twitching erratically against the laminate of her shower floor. Mirage is all but thrown to the farthest reaches of the stars, and then yanked back down to the earth with little mercy.
For just a moment, everything goes completely dark.
She comes to practically squished beneath his limp, unmoving mass, consisting entirely of thick plating and an unfair height advantage. Countless error messages cloud her vision; she shakes them away with a disgruntled, broken hum. Her voice box had, somehow, stayed connected through that last orgasm.
"Fuck, my water bill is gonna be crazy this month." Mirage moans, struggling to get her hand out from under V2's weight to reach for the faucet, only to find that she doesn't have the strength to hold it upright for more than a moment. Mere seconds after her attempt, V2 lifts themselves right off of her, and easily gets his hand around the knob. The flow cuts off and leaves them both in an abrupt silence, one tempered only by her reflexive, irritated push of her overworked fans. Then that same hand reaches down to her.
"Are you alright?" They ask, and she's been with them long enough to pick up on the concern behind his words. Her annoyance at him dissipates as quickly as it had come. Mirage pulls herself back through the haze of sex lingering in her processors, and lets herself be helped up.
"I'm fine."
In actuality, she can't feel her right leg. V2 somehow seems to sense this, catching her in an embrace just before she slumps too far forward. V2 keeps her there until she's able to find her balance again. She's distantly aware of his helm nuzzling the top of her own, as if in reassurance. It's grounding, particularly so when gentle fingers run along her back, tracing one of the plastic veins there with an easy affection.
They help her out onto the shag rug, and over to the scarcely-used toilet to be seated on the plush-covered lid. Mirage eventually regains enough control over her motor functions to dry herself off with the towel V2 passes over.
And somehow pair of them end up in bed with droplets of water still soaking into her sheets and into the foam of her pillows, dripping from the gaps in their plating. Mirage sinks into the mattress with a satisfied whirr. They'll change the sheets in the morning. Tomorrow's laundry day anyway.
"Is there anything you require?" Cool air rushes over the both of them before the weight of her duvet settles on them both.
"A nap." She's exhausted. "What about you?"
"Just this." His arm tightens around her, for emphasis. The last bits of her strength are spent shifting herself closer to them, into the warmth they emit. Their legs tangle comfortably as she burrows into his bulk.
Her helm pushes over his shoulder, settling there in the crook of V2's neck. Her optics stray absently to the bedside clock and--oh, seven o'clock. She's gonna try and get away with a full nine hours of sleep.
"Goodnight, Red." She sighs, fans whirring in a content sigh. Their fingers find the small of her back, and settle there.
"Sleep well, Mirage."
