Page 17 of Garbage

It was sweet. Quincy was like a little puppy or a child, excited about everything and innocent to the ways of the world.

And that was all he was going to think about his new housemate, because anything else would be inappropriate.

Quincy clearly had no idea how someone else might interpret his loud and orgasmically delighted moans in the shower. He obviously didn’t know it wasn’t socially appropriate to walk around naked, or have any reason to understand what that might do to someone’s libido.

That was an image that Evan would never forget.

Quincy, with a towel in one hand, looking adorable and flushed, with his bronzed torso on display, hard abs dripping with water like they were just begging to be licked. His copper-colored nipples were exquisitely detailed, hardening in the cool air.

In contrast, his lower half was still flesh-colored and proportionate to his top, but it was clearly robotic. There were no defined muscles, no kneecaps or ankle bones in his built-in boots.

He also didn’t have a dick. There wasn’t even a suggestion of one, just a smooth, featureless pelvis.

That should probably have been a turn-off for Evan but… there was actually something really hot about that reminder that Quincy, for all of his self-awareness, was a robot.

Evan was going to hell.

Yes, he enjoyed robot porn, and yes, a few of his personal toys tended to play into that android fetish… But Quincy wasn’t a fetish. He was a person with his own thoughts and feelings.

Was he even capable of feeling sexual desire?

Not that a person needed a dick to feel sexual—Evan had had that conversation more than enough times when Ben was figuring out his gender identity in high school. Obviously specific body parts weren’t necessary to feel either arousal or masculinity.

But still… It was messed up for Evan to be perving on Quincy if the man didn’t even have the programming to return his interests. If Orbit hadn’t carried over the design for him to have a dick, it seemed unlikely they would have programmed in sexual stimulation. Hell, Quincy didn’t have the memory storage available to remember what a garlic press was.

So Evan was just going to ignore all of the rustling and clinking from the living room and go to sleep.

He very specifically wasn’t going to think about those two metallic hoses winding up his legs, or the two thin, metallic arms pressing against his ass.

He wasn’t going to relive their slow dance in the living room, with Quincy touching every part of his back like he couldn’t get enough.

Or the way that Quincy had tenderly stroked his hair while telling him that he wanted to stay with him, Evan, and not anyone else.

Quincy had no idea how naively seductive he was, coiling those extensions around Evan’s ankles and trapping him against that broad chest so that he couldn’t get away even if he wanted to…

Evan knew just how strong Quincy was. On his route earlier, he’d picked up a whole easy chair, admittedly with some awkwardness, and tossed it into the truck.

He’d be able to pin Evan and hold him down with no trouble, trapping him while those matte-black, spider-like claws…

Evan was really going to hell.

No, Evan was going to sleep.

Another drawer slid open down the hall, followed by Quincy’s excited “ooh!”

What had he found? A hat? A paperclip?

Evan rolled over on his pillow.

He was soooo fucked.

* * *

Predictably, Evan was late to work the next day, but it hardly mattered because he couldn’t concentrate.

All he could think about was Quincy, and how soon he’d be able to see him again.

He checked in twice with Ben, who assured him that he’d gotten the parts, and confirmed with equal conviction that he was going to install them himself.