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As beautiful a work of art the Prince is, he still happens to be a finicky piece of work.
Whoever created him out of fine wiring and lattice work plating did not leave an instruction manual, nor, to Aesop's exasperation, is Victor an especially helpful patient. It comes as nothing but a resigned surprise when one day, in Aesop's workshop, Victor jolts up from where he had been lounging.
"Aesop," he starts conversationally. Aesop can already feel the headache starting to pound out a tap-tap-tap in his temple.
"Yes?"
"I am currently blind."
Aesop approaches this statement with the same amount of resigned panic as one would hear the horn of an oncoming train: a useless reaction, but involuntary all the same.
“Both eyes?” He asks, getting up from his desk to wander over to where Victor has taken to sprawling across the examination table like it’s a chaise lounge.
He gets to witness the indolent prince blink one eye, then the other like a particularly sleepy frog.
“Mm, yes,” Victor hums, “both eyes.”
“Does it hurt?” Aesop asks, already moving to feel along the skull plate at the back of his head.
“No, no. It’s like someone shut the lights off, really.”
“Hm,” is all Aesop replies with. Instead he busies himself with circling the examination table to get a clearer view of the latches that hold Victor’s skull together, just under his hair.
“I’m going to open you up, just to check your wiring. Would you like to remain on, or be shut off?” He asks.
Victor gives it a good second’s thought, before replying, “on, please.”
How very polite.
It’s easy work to remove this part of Victor. It’s even easier to see what’s wrong with him, once under the hood.
“Looks like the wiring gave out on the optical sockets, on part of the eyes especially.” Aesop muses, thumbing said wiring idly. “I might have replacements laying around, but it does mean I’ll have to remove both eyes.”
“Oh, joy.” Victor responds, sarcastic. The tension leaves his shoulders just so; subtle for all the ways he often isn’t. No longer worried now that a solution seems plenty easy.
Aesop gets to work.
Victor isn’t like his other robotic patients, partially because he’s still awake, and while he doesn’t need to breathe, he still does; the premeditated rise and fall of his shoulders accompanies Aesop in a soothing pattern as he works, air vents whirring quietly. One eye is removed easily, and the other pops out with only a quiet hiss from Victor.
“Hurts?” Aesop asks, rounding the table to face his patient again.
“Not really, but I can feel it, if that makes sense?” Victor says. Two eyeless sockets stare back at him, though with the eyebrows still molding the faux face muscles around an expression around the holes, making it probably less off-putting than expected. Aesop ignores the ugly kick of arousal, and “mhm”’s instead.
Aesop is a professional, and also a realist. Any attraction to any of the mechanical parts that come to his table are subliminal fears at best, disgust twisted in the psyche to transform one jolt of the stomach to another. Still.
Prince is a beautiful piece of work.
Aesop sticks his fingers directly into Victor’s eye socket. There isn’t much directly on the other side, mostly to make room for the full optical attachments of the physical eye inside the skull. It’s mostly the soft inner skin. If he presses deep enough, he can feel the flesh covered metal that makes up Victor’s nose.
“Any deeper and you’ll be knuckle deep in me, Aesop. Take me out to dinner first.”
Any snide rebuttal from dear Aesop is swallowed up by a grunt, and instead he fixates on the fact that if he presses down just a bit, flexes his fingers, he can widen the eye socket and stretch the skin tighter than it was ever meant to go.
While he probably shouldn’t be, Aesop is still surprised when Victor reaches out, cupping his cock through his slacks.
“Happy to see me?” Prince laughs. Aesop yanks his fingers out of his skull, taking a step away from Victor’s grabbing hands.
“I don’t mind. A hole is a hole, isn’t it? If you happen to be interested in this one, well. I’ve been trying to fuck you for months on end.”
“No you haven’t.” Aesop says. He watches as Victor slides his own fingers into an empty eye socket, feeling around inside his own skull with the sort of detached curiosity that Aesop has come to expect from the Prince.
“No, I haven’t. That doesn’t mean I’m not still willing,” he gestures Aesop back over, movements subtle like someone not trying to spook an animal. Aesop wonders where he even learned to do that, but goes where beckoned.
The skin around the eye socket is soft, and bends easily when Aesop presses down on it, his finger joining Victor’s own inside him. Victor only hums, smiling placidly.
“Well?” He asks. Aesop considers for one long moment. “This will likely be the only chance you ever get to do this,” Victor continues. “I don’t make a habit of taking my eyes out.”
Aesop likes to think himself a practical man, and that’s a very reasonable point. Plus, he really is already half hard. It’s not like he’s morally opposed.
“Sure,” he eventually says. “Fine. Lie back, and let me get a condom. I don’t want to get cum in your eye socket.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Victor calls, as he turns to rummage in his junk drawer.
“I would. I would be the one to clean your circuits.”
“Ha.”
Condom found, miraculously, Aesop returns to find Victor partially undressed.
Prince was designed more like a doll than a real automata, which means that under the clothes he sports everyday reside the soft innards of him or, more appropriately, the open cage of wires and gears.
Aesop has seen him naked before but it never stops giving him a kick. Call him a purist, but they truly do not make machines like him anymore.
One hand rests on his stomach, still clothed under technicality of the buttons being done up, while the other hand plays around in his own chest cavity, well crafted fingers fiddling with the clockwork heart in the middle of his chest.
It’s quick work for Aesop to become hard enough for the condom to fit. Unfortunately for him, he’s certain Victor is aware of this fact somehow, because he huffs a little laugh as Aesop approaches to his side.
“No lube?” He asks, sprawling back.
Aesop thinks of the sloppy mess the inside of Victor’s skull would become if he used lube, and then thinks about the dry rub of skin on latex.
Cringing, he spits into his palm, slicking up his cock with quick, wet strokes.
“You’re not very romantic, are you?”
Aesop doesn’t bother to answer, instead just fitting the head of his cock to Victor’s eye socket. One hand holds his cock steady as he slowly fucks into Victor’s skull, while the other hand grabs his hair, pulling him forward until with a slow, sweet slide, he bottoms out in Victor’s eye socket.
“There we are,” Aesop sighs. It’s not pleasurable like his own hand is pleasurable. It’s not even comparable to a sex toy. He’s sure if he leans over a bit he’ll be able to see the twitching head of his cock sticking out of the back of Victor’s open skull plate.
Regardless, the pressure combined with the mental image of Victor’s eye socket buckling under the force of his slow thrusts, following the movement in and out, has him perilously close unfortunately fast.
Underneath him, Victor shifts, fingers clenching in his half-discarded shirt as he tries to sit still.
“Tell me, what does it feel like? Have you even ever had sex before this, or will this be your first to compare everything else to?” Aesop asks. He rests for a moment, letting him come back down from the edge of orgasm so soon, letting his cock rest just inside Victor, almost falling out but not quite.
“It’s- it’s different. I don’t know if this is my first time.” He says.
Aesop presses to the edge of the eye socket, feeling the skin move as he presses back into him slowly.
“Do you let all the boys fuck your face like this, or just the ones who put up with keeping you maintained?” Victor moans at that, a strangled little punched out sound. If Aesop pays attention, he can hear his fans whirring much faster, trying to keep him cool and calm. Cute.
He leans further down in his hunch over Victor, and spits directly onto him. It slides down his face, dripping off his eyebrow to pool onto his cock. Victor jerks like he cums, and Aesop only hums a moan as he drags him back by the hair.
Wet, spit slick noises fill Aesop’s lab as he fucks Victor’s skull, pressing as deep as he can every thrust in just so he can feel the few wires still in the top half of his skull wrap around his cock.
Victor takes up squirming like he’s being fucked for real, and Aesop watches as he brings one hand back to the wiring in his chest, stroking it like a human would his cock.
“Do you like having your wires crossed?” Aesop asks, genuinely curious. Victor only nods as best as he can in Aesop’s grip.
“Yes, yes,” Victor moans, tugging a handful of wires until they strain against their ports. Concerned, Aesop grabs his hand, but it requires him to reach into his chest cavity at the same time.
Three things happen at the same time, very, very quickly.
One; Aesop misses Victor’s hand and ends up grabbing the end halves of the same handful of wires.
Two; The way he strains to lean over Victor to reach into his chest causes his cock to slide just that bit deeper into Victor’s skull.
Three; They both tense at the exact same time. Victor gurgles as he shudders through what could anthropologically be called an orgasm, easily his first. Aesop only moans, quiet in his pleasure as he grinds balls deep inside Victor.
He’s glad for the condom, as he slides out for the last time just to see how spit has already started to bubble out of Victor’s empty socket, trailing down his cheek like tear tracks.
“Damn.” Aesop mumbles.
Victor lays sprawled out on Aesop’s examination table, head lolling to the side as he seems to collect himself.
“I’ll need to inspect that chest cavity too now, to make sure that nothing got jostled or yanked out of place. We wouldn’t want any future mishaps, would we?” Aesop says.
Victor only whimpers.