Page 68 of Smart Ass

Ben

Ben lay on the couch, every inch of skin still humming and every muscle liquid. He never wanted to move again.

The blanket wrapped around his shoulders was just like his favorite one from home, cozy and soft, like Max was… like Max was holding him close.

The pincers and extensions of the spider-looking monster bot were fussing around him and stroking down his covered belly and legs, like the creepiest ever nursemaid.

Ben absolutely adored it.

He felt so close to Max. Like he could breathe in and just inhale him.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a physical existence because all of this… This was Max.

The couch and the weird golden lamps and the towering bots and the entire damn catalog of some kink store…

Max was right here.

Max had done all of this for him.

Every moment of that had just been… perfect. The fight that he never could have won. The bondage, never tight enough to hurt, and never loose enough for him to forget it for even a second. The brushes and tubes and pincers teasing Ben’s skin, and the rough fucking with… Ben turned his head and identified the two glistening arms that were held back from the blanket-molesting frenzy.

Good god. He’d had that in his ass? It was an extendable multi-use arm with circular joints that grew in size along its length. Over a dozen toys that Max could have popped in Ben’s ass, and he’d gone with the crudest alternative.

“I think you’re kinkier than even me,” Ben said in awe, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Either that, or Max had done all of this for Ben, had tapped into all of his favorite fantasies, compiling them from Ben’s conversations and porn links and… Yeah, that was probably it.

Max knew exactly what Ben wanted. Like he was reading his mind, but even better, somehow, because Ben knew it was just very close observation.

He could feel with every choice and movement, how he was the center of Max’s world.

It was kind of insane.

Maybe a little too much.

Because even if Ben had programmed Maxamillion to be his personal stalker and Dom, that didn’t mean he was going to stay that way.

Ben rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. He should get up now. Go back to work.

He yawned, even as he tried to get up.

Max pushed him back down, gentle but irrefutable, as if even after the scene was over, Max was still in charge.

Ben might have struggled to get up anyway, but Max started humming. It was a warm golden melody that didn’t seem to be going anywhere but that captured all of Ben’s attention.

Maybe he would just stay here a little longer, letting himself luxuriate in Max’s attention.

Really, he should soak up all of it that he could get.

Didn’t that make sense?

If Max was, like, a time-limited opportunity, shouldn’t he get it all while the getting was good? Kind of store it up for later?

So Ben let himself relax back into the couch, the deep, purring hum wrapping around him tighter than the blanket.

It was easy to just feel so… happy. Warm and happy and safe.

He realized, drowsily, that the warmth wasn’t even psychological. Max had turned on the heat in the blanket, because he was awesome like that.

The heavier bot trundled over and Ben gave it half a look. It was smeared with his sweat, the shiny metal dulled all over in the shape of his body. No cum, of course, because his body didn’t actually make it and he’d opted not to get some weird refillable pump to squirt out something that was, objectively, kind of gross. But still, plenty of bodily fluids.