Chapter Text
Two packages sat in a neat row before your entryway. Their stark shapes popped out from the sun-bright pavement, and if you could speak to them with the dateviators, you’re certain a pair of scheming gentlemen would appear in front of you.
The first package you ordered from a salacious website, a surprise you couldn’t wait to spoil Mac with. Judging by its weight, the object was indeed as hefty as its product reviews alleged. You smirked to yourself, not unlike the characters in your self-insert fanfiction after spewing a smug one-liner. You couldn’t help it. Not when reducing Mac to fucked-out mess was the priority task on tonight’s agenda.
The second package you did not order, salacious website nor regular, because nothing about this damn city, street, or household could exist without incident for long.
When you lifted the unexpected box for examination, an invisible, otherworldly force permeated the space around you. Hairs on the back of your neck lifted in the way they did when a thunderstorm was approaching, but the sky stood clear of any darkness. The parcel itself was unmarked, dense, and gray, all held together by a coquettish white ribbon. Whoever packaged the mystery abomination had done so with the utmost care.
You had a glaring suspicion as to who sent it, but you’d worry about him later. For now, there was only one item on your mind, and it was thick, blue, and sparkly.
You tucked the suspicious box away in your bedroom closet and sliced a jittery line through the packing tape on the other. It was a miracle you didn’t injure yourself. A sleek package slid from the cardboard, revealing your long-anticipated purchase: Apple & Pea’s Deluxe Waterproof Vibrating Rabbit Dildo (in Hot Hyacinth Blue). The cover art boasted a picture of a translucent, shimmery blue dildo with a control panel mounted at the base and a bullet vibe encased in its silicone coating. A prong with two adjustable rabbit ears sprouted from the bullet.
Your cunt clenched as you imagined how the ears would flutter in a satisfying rush against your clit, but the arousal died in the same breath it ignited. You’d have to cram most of the dildo inside for the ears to reach, and unlike the average box-owner, find a way to tolerate the ripping sensation as your muscles declared war against the intrusion. The process of removing it would be no less horrific, but not as painful as the reality you’d never be normal.
The bedroom curtains warped in your peripherals. You blinked hard, grounding yourself.
Now was not the time to fall down a pussy-induced shame spiral. You had hot sex to plan, and god willing, you weren’t about to let your medical complexities cockblock an entirely separate human.
The truth was, you’d never entertain the idea of buying a rabbit vibrator if you hadn’t settled into a serious relationship. Sex with Mac involved you sticking a finger into their cunt followed by them begging for another, another please until your whole hand was drenched. Then, Mac would ask if they could finger you back, you’d reply, Don’t worry about me, hottie. This was just for you, and call it a night. The title of Eternal Top was a worthwhile price to pay in exchange for their ignorance.
Your own fussy orifice aside, Mac’s capacity for finger-fucking amazed you. Truly. You felt like the guy who discovered the concept of black holes for the first time. While your instinct was to press in gentle and slow, Mac could tolerate penetration at speeds previously thought impossible, and painful, even for the average person. You had no barometer for what finger-fucking was supposed to feel like, but you understood Mac’s need to be stretched and pounded.
So, you purchased a sex toy who would out-girth your fingers by more than a mile. You considered buying one made to fit a strap on harness, but the thrusting motion would fuck over your tender pelvis, and the end result wouldn’t be worth it.
Regardless, you couldn’t wait to see the look on Mac’s face when, after a delicious session of teasing, you’d pull it out.
When you sought Ben-wha’s expertise for recommendations, they mentioned this particular toy had the highest customer rating from Apple & Pea’s vibrator selection. If someone told you a year ago that your failed pelvic wand would come to life and become a treasure trove of sex advice, you’d run away, but in the present, you couldn’t be more grateful for the current state of science.
Thankfully, the toy didn’t require any assembly besides a pair of AA batteries. One by one, you popped them in place and clicked the panel shut. The control settings fell into two neat columns: the left for the rabbit ear vibrations and the right for the dildo vibrations. You hit the lowest setting from each column, and the device rumbled to life.
You’d wait to see how Mac reacted to the internal vibrations, because right now, the buzzing rabbit ears demanded your attention. You slid a pointer finger between the soft strips of silicone and cycled through the power levels. Fuck. As the ears warmed and caressed your finger, you felt the strongest pussy envy of your entire life. The urge to reach into your underwear and stifle the blazing wildfire between your legs persisted with the vibrations, but the sun was setting, and Mac would be preparing to leave the HQ by now.
You secured the toy in the complementary velvet bag before hiding it in your nightstand. As for the packaging, you shoved it to the bottom of the recycling where Mac’s sharp eyes wouldn’t spot it.
Now, about that mysterious delivery.
To no one’s surprise, your Thiscord was blown up with messages from Franklin.
I know it’s been a long time since I’ve contacted you, but Skylar and I could use a favor.
Go figure.
We’ve been thinking about how many of the realized objects miss aspects of their old forms. This issue arises frequently when we ask if they’re having any adjustment problems post-realization, so we designed another pair of glasses. While worn by the realized object, it allows them to experience the sensations and abilities of that object without compromising their physicality.
So say hello to the Dateviator 3.0s!
We were hoping you and Mac could try them out and report back to us. I designed them to look identical to Mac’s regular spectacles, so they can be worn discreetly. If you two decide against using them, that’s okay. I’ll give you a secure location to return them to. My only request is that you keep this a secret. If you do decide to use them, please read the instructions first.
The cursor blinked at you from its spot in your phone’s text field, and you clutched the screen to your chest.
Mac liked being human. Hell, they handled it better than a sizable chunk of humanity, but you suspected the loss of their full CPU capabilities haunted them more than they let on. The most obvious trait they grieved was the ability to communicate mutually with other computers. You once woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed and light ascending the staircase. You found Mac sitting at the office desk in front of the monitor they once possessed, trying desperately to contact an old friend.
Could Franklin’s newest project be the missing piece?
Thanks, man. Mac will definitely want to try these out. I’ll keep you updated as we discover what effects they produce.
The jingle of keys in the door and pop of wheels over its threshold alerted you to Mac’s arrival.
“Hey, hun,” you called from your spot by the stove. “How was work?”
Mac sighed as they glided through the kitchen entryway. Shadows swept below their eyes, and pieces of hair stuck out in odd places on their head. As concerning as an exhausted Mac was, you learned to expect this version of your partner coming home from the office in recent months. Their position at the company didn’t require frequent visits to headquarters, but MoneyCoin was insisting more and more on their physical attendance.
Mac rubbed their temple. “My workday was a collection of inefficient meetings that could’ve resolved the issue in a concise email chain.”
“Jeez. You’d think a bunch of crypto geniuses would prefer the email alternative.” You gave the simmering pot another stir.
“You would!” said Mac, irritated. “The email format would maximize efficiency, but lately, I’ve been thinking this company doesn’t care as much about efficiency as it claims to.”
The tail end of Mac’s tone told you this statement was a long time coming. You cut the heat to the stove so you could give them your full attention.
“Ever since they declared me top-performing Senior Blockchain Project Acquisition Analyst, my coworkers have been treating me weirdly. The marketing team wants pictures of me to post on their social media, newer employees run the other direction when they see me coming, and senior employees converse with me like we share the emotional intimacy of a years long friendship. It’s confusing and highly illogical.”
“I’m sorry, Mac. I’d be weirded out too.” You massaged the tense junction between their neck and shoulder.
Mac pushed into your touch. “I don’t like how they treat the computers either. None of them are cleaned regularly, people shake the monitors when they’re frustrated, and they’re careless with the liquids they bring into the lab. I’ve lost count of how many keyboards we’ve had to replace.
“I’ve been wanting to find a different occupation for a while now, and after the nonsense I endured today, I am one hundred percent certain of this decision. I’m going to ‘put in my two weeks,’ as they like to say.”
Mac deflated, waiting for your reaction.
You can’t say this declaration surprised you. Their work dynamic had transformed into a perfect, inversely proportional relationship. As the number of days they returned from the HQ increased, the number of positive anecdotes they had to share decreased.
“I expected that,” you said. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not right now, no… unless that would make you anxious!” They grabbed both of your hands. “I promise I have a plan to keep an income steady. I’m not going to let our house—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” You soothed your palms up their forearms. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. Or tomorrow. I can see how stressed you are.”
“Okay,” said Mac. They exhaled in relief. “Sorry. I just forget I don’t have to optimize every outcome sometimes.”
“No worries.” You kissed their messy hair. “It’s time for dinner anyway. Dasha stopped by with a soup container this morning, and she wants to know if we like her new recipe. Says she’s been perfecting it for weeks!”
Mac brightened at the mention of food. “Oh! I can’t wait to try it. The smell hit my olfactory receptors as soon as I opened the door. I’m not entirely used to having those yet, but it’s a wonderful sensation.”
“I have to agree.”
You and Mac ate in comfortable silence. The vegetables from Abel’s garden and liquid-gold flavor of Dasha’s soup harmonized to create an addictive meal. Pacing yourself proved difficult, and the image of Mac’s lips wrapped around a spoon didn’t help, but you managed to eat without incident.
Mac settled the spoon in their bowl when they finished.
“I lack the language to express how much I enjoyed this eating experience.”
“Me too. I’ll be sure to let Dasha know.” You smiled. Pleasure looked good on Mac.
But the pleasure didn’t last long.
Mac stared at the table, and the tides of a forlorn expression washed over their face, the kind they wore whenever a filling meal wasn’t enough to knock the day’s stress.
Thankfully, you knew another way to pull them from the abyss.
“I have a question for you.”
Mac’s eyes snapped to yours. If there was any trait of theirs you could rely on without fault, it was their fixation with exchanging and retrieving information. The instinct never disappeared post realization, and Mac latched onto facts, definitions, and questions like they were still a computer.
“What’s your question?”
“How are your joints feeling right now?”
Mac shifted in their chair. “No hardware malfunctions for me today. Only the usual twinges. Why?”
“I was just thinking about which position I want to put you in on our bed.”
“Ohhh.” A giddiness leaked into Mac’s voice. They perched their elbows on the table and leaned in. “Why didn’t you say so? All I could think about during those pointless meetings was how badly I wanted you to proposition me with a clever innuendo later.”
You grinned, delighted your bait worked. “I’m glad you’re in the mood, because I’ve planned a surprise for you tonight.”
“Tell me,” said Mac. Their attention burned like the tip of a soldering iron.
You matched their intensity. “While I clean up the kitchen, you’re going to strip, get on the bed, and spread your gorgeous legs for me. Then I’ll think about telling you.”
“Deal.” Mac rose to grab their cane.
“Perfect, and don’t touch yourself. I’ll take care of that when I get upstairs.”
Mac gave no response besides a glance over their shoulder, cheeks flaming.
Wisps of black hair stuck to Mac’s sweaty forehead, highlighted in thin streaks by the golden glow of the lamp. They lay panting against the headboard, lips kissed rosy with their legs bent and stretched apart.
You grazed their bare thighs with your fingertips, dragging them as far inward as you could without dipping into their pool of heat, and admired the dark thatch of curls at the center. A glossy sliver of pink peeked out from beneath them, leaking a shiny river onto the towel you cast over the bedsheets.
Determined to drag out the teasing, you spread their cunt open with gentle thumbs to watch them twitch and clench around nothing.
Mac whined. “I guarantee you my port is sufficiently lubricated for whatever surprise you have planned.”
“Hmm,” you pretended to contemplate. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Mac threw their head back against the pillow when you sank two fingers into their opening. No matter how many times you fingered them, the easy way their muscles accepted the intrusion never failed to fascinate you. Their warm, velvety texture fit snug but elastic around your fingers. You let it soothe the bruised part of your psyche to know Mac could experience this kind of pleasure without agony.
Just in case, you stroked their g-spot in a wave-like motion to help with the production of fluids. A fire lit in your loins at the sight of Mac fighting the urge to close their legs.
“Doing so good, honey,” you cooed, lips brushing their ear. You rewarded Mac with a thumb on their clit, knowing you were approaching a limit. You swiped back and forth, letting their juices ease the glide of your feathery movements.
“It’s almost like I’m using your scroll wheel again. You love this, don’t you?” you said, never mind that scroll wheels weren’t built for thumbs. Any references to Mac’s object form drove them wild, vague or explicit.
“Oh god,” they moaned, stretching out the vowels. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”
You almost gave in to their frustrated sob when you pulled your hand away.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” You dried your sticky hand on the towel. “I still need to give you your surprise.”
“Now. I want it now.”
You put a hand on their knee. “Don’t worry, I’m getting it.” You reached into the top nightstand drawer for the velvet pouch, careful not to knock Mac’s glasses off the surface in your haste.
Mac didn’t react. Their shut eyes wavered, and their chest stuttered with uneven breaths.
You fiddled with the drawstring on the pouch. Perhaps you frustrated them too much.
“Hey, are you alright?”
Mac huffed, and a small smile cracked through their grimace. “Affirmative. My human port just gets so… sore when you play with me like this.”
You frowned. “Sore? I thought you liked fingers.”
“I do like fingers!” Mac giggled. “I’m talking about the sensation of not having anything to squeeze on. It creates this unique feeling of emptiness that makes me feel a bit sore on the inside before you give me the sweet connection I’m craving.”
You hadn’t considered that before. Tenderness from having nothing to bear down on. “I learn something new about you every day, Mac.”
“So do I!” Mac perked up. “While human genitals and USB ports produce similar feelings of arousal when stimulated, they function quite differently.”
“You got that right.” The concealed vibrator in your hands called out to you, but a sudden wave of curiosity called louder. “How did it feel? The USB ports, I mean.”
“Having my USB ports plugged was incredibly satisfying. The number of signal lines, or wires, in a connector are made to match the number of wires in a port, so each time we slotted together, it was the perfect fit.” Mac’s voice dipped into the tone it did when they were holding back moans. “The initial rush of bits along the data lines felt so good, and the abrupt cut off of information after disconnection was equally tantalizing.”
Several more questions invaded your thoughts, but you decided not to ask them. Otherwise, you’d be here all night.
Mac continued anyway. “With my USB ports, I didn’t have to worry about the connector slipping out like we do with your fingers. The experience of having a receptor that gives and stretches with the object penetrating it is nothing like I’d ever felt until I met you.”
“I see how it is.” You made a show of loosening the drawstring, and the dildo glided out of the bag in all its blue, sparkly glory. “Lucky for you, I have something that’ll stretch your receptor nice and open.”
A deep groan sounded from Mac’s throat, and their legs trembled. If they still had a CPU, you knew it would be cooking. “You purchased that just for me?”
“I did.” You can’t recall a time you felt this smug. “Lay on your back.”
Mac obeyed, sliding down the mattress. “I’ve heard lecherous things about that toy from other computers. Their user ratings always skewed high.”
So it wasn’t just your computer who harbored horny thoughts. Then again, what else were you expecting?
You filed the information away for later and crawled into the space between their legs. “Did their users like having their holes stuffed as much as you do?” You rubbed the dildo’s thick head along their wet slit, allowing them to adjust to the texture, and popped it past their entrance before popping it back out.
The effect was immediate, but not the one you were hoping for.
Mac whimpered in frustration. “I want to squeeze! Will you let me squeeze now?”
“Sorry, honey. Here.” You pushed the tip back in. “Squeeze as much as you want.”
“Ah!” Mac flexed their hips and settled. “Much better, thank you.”
“Mmm, good.”
You sank the dildo in further, mesmerized by how the translucent plastic disappeared into Mac’s pussy. Their muscles accepted the toy in a comfortable embrace, even as they squeezed and relaxed around its circumference.
With flames licking away in your stomach, you tore your leer from the erotic display to check on Mac.
“What do you find so interesting?” they asked, staring at you with a mix of desperation and curiosity.
“You. You amaze me.” Praising Mac was as easy as keystrokes, and the junction of skin and silicone was satin soft where you traced it. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Mac engaged your thorough eye contact, absorbing, downloading, calculating, lagging.
You pushed the toy in as deep as it could go, grinned, and bent the delicate rabbit ears until they held Mac’s clit in the perfect caress. Their toes curled as you worked.
“Ready to see what it can do?”
“I already know what—what it does. I’m curious how it’s going to feel.”
Your fingers shook as you clicked the button for the lowest power setting in both vibrate functions.
Mac squealed and snapped their knees inward, only to be blocked by your sitting position. A ruddy flush bled like a watercolor spill down their collarbone and spread to the tips of their shoulders. Their hips writhed this way and that, but you held the toy steady, eager to see how fast you could coax an orgasm.
Your cunt throbbed with every pleasured noise streaming from their mouth.
“That’s it, honey. Show me how good you feel.”
“Its—it feels,” Mac whined and curled their hands to their chest. “It feels like that time you downloaded an auto clicker and had me farm minecraft skeletons for an hour.”
You exhaled a laugh at Mac’s dirty talk, which often traveled the unconventional path. “The ‘experience’ was worth it for both of us, don’t you think?”
“And you were running three mods on top of it,” they added. “With Thiscord open in the background.”
“I remember. Your tower got so hot, I nearly burnt my fingers on it.”
Mac groaned at the memory, but in an instant, their expression changed to a pained one.
“Ow! Hold on.” They grabbed your wrist.
You hit the off button before they finished speaking. “What’s wrong?”
“Ugh, my knees are suddenly displeased with our evening proclivities. I tried to extend one and—” Mac gritted their teeth. “I need to change positions.”
“Got it. Do we need a break?” You gently pulled the toy from their body and laid it on the towel.
“No, I just overestimated my hardware a bit.” They flashed you a cheeky grin. “Worth it, though. I have an idea.”
Mac turned onto their front, yanked the pillow from its place at the headboard, and shuffled until the soft material rested cushy beneath their hips. The new angle created a sensuous position, elevating their pelvis to take the pressure off their knees. You had a scenic view of everything from their ass down to their clit.
You tapped the end of the dildo against their entrance, and Mac clawed at the sheets. “How do you want it?”
“I want you to fuck me. Hard. Like you do with your fingers.”
The toy slid back in, even easier than it had the first time. You switched it on. “We’ll work up to that.”
Mac twitched like you hit them with an electric current, body arching into the pillow.
You thrust the toy at a slow pace and let it linger with each pass of the ears over their clit. The bedsheets muffled their noises, but they sounded no less desperate, rising in volume as you fucked Mac breathless.
Something wet seeped down your thigh. Your underwear would need to be replaced after this.
“Let me hear it.” You increased the speed of your thrusts to a rough pace and clicked the vibrations up two notches. “You’re such a good host, syncing to my device so perfectly.”
Mac lifted their head and moaned. “I’m going to orgasm very soon.”
“And you will.”
You angled the toy downward and pumped fast. Their knuckles bloomed white from their grip on the sheets as you wrung pleasure from their body, savoring the wet slaps produced by your arms. Next thing you knew, their back pulled taught, and a hot stream of clear liquid was hitting you in the shorts, enough to soak through to your undergarments.
Mac panted, their shoulders heaving. “Did I just… spray you?”
“Yeah,” you said in a horny daze. “You did.”
“I didn’t know I could do that. I thought it was rare.”
“Rare or not, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
Mac’s post-orgasm blush darkened, and they rolled onto their back, limbs loose.
You cupped their waist, gently coaxing them to move. “You did so good for me. Let’s get comfy, yeah?”
Mac shifted so you could remove the toy, pillow, and dirty towel from beneath them. At a closer glance, the swelling in their knees was more visible, and blotches of red skin cropped up around their feet. While Mac was more attuned to their body than most, there were instances like these where they overestimated their daily limit, and it was in these instances that Stress was a contributing factor. You knew this intimately, how Stress lurked behind you until it transformed into an unbearable pain, and by then, it was too late to stop the impending flare. It was too late to replenish the spoons it had stolen undetected.
But if there was one thing you understood, it was that heat made everything better.
You squeezed their hand. “I’m going to grab a couple things. Would you also like it if I ran a hot bath?”
Mac’s face was a picture of bliss with droopy eyelids and dewy skin. “Yes please.”
“Sounds good.” You lowered a soft kiss to their mouth before standing.
Said hot bath was next on your mission, but first, you had business to take care of. You dropped your shorts and underwear to the floor, cringing as the damp fabric clung to your genitals, and went to grab a clean pair from the dresser. The cold bedroom air breezed across your skin, and with it, a muscle spasm rocked through your lower half, a punishment for pushing your bodily awareness to the side.
Upon entering the restroom, you dropped like an anvil on the toilet and cursed yourself for consuming too much liquid earlier, as thirsty as you had felt and as delicious as the soup tasted. The pain slowed the process of emptying your bladder, and a deep ache settled in the space below your belly button.
Never mind that. There were more important matters to attend.
You adjusted the bath faucet to run hot before heading towards the top of the shadowy staircase. The descent was painful; each step jostled your tender organs, but you couldn’t help but feel scandalous wearing only your underwear and favorite red t-shirt. If this were a horror movie, you’d be meeting one confused monster.
Allowing the cloak of night to shroud you in the dark house, you walked to the refrigerator. Your footsteps had traced this path thousands of times since the day you could stand on two legs, so finding it without light was an average weekday activity for you. The cheery blue fridge greeted you in its strong stature, and while Freddy had left for the mountains, his hardy presence remained. How lucky it was the older models were built to last.
A pleasant chill brushed your face as you reached for the container of apple slices you prepared earlier, dipped in sugar water to prevent them from browning. How lucky you were to share this kind of domesticity with Mac.
Maybe Freddy would like a post card. Maybe they all would like to hear from you more often.
With a glass of water and apple slices in hand, you returned to the second level, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the scene you were about to walk in on.
Mac was sitting on the bed, legs splayed across the blankets, and licking the sticky crotch of your discarded underwear.
Their guilty eyes darted to yours the moment you entered the doorway, and in a panic, they launched the filthy garment across the room, which hit you smack in the middle of your forehead. The wet piece of cloth stuck to your skin for a beat before plummeting to the hardwood floor.
It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before you both collapsed into a fit of laughter.
“Mac!” you heaved their name through laughs, struggling not to spill the water. “What the fuck?”
Mac groaned and hid their face in their hands. “I don’t know! I got curious, and then I liked the smell… and then I really got curious.”
“I’ve been wearing those all day,” you said in disbelief. “You’re not grossed out by that?”
“It would be no different from performing oral sex on you, would it?”
“I guess not.” You pushed past the unspoken implication; why won’t you let me touch you? “How are you feeling?”
Mac hummed dreamily and lay back down. They had rearranged the bed while you were gone, returning the pillow to its home at the top. “I feel really good. That was probably the most satisfying orgasm I’ve ever had! But…” They picked at a loose thread on the comforter. “I’m sooo exhausted, my knees are still angry at me, and I’m extra sticky.”
They lifted a thigh to present the mess you created.
While exploring sex with Mac, you learned they couldn’t stand the “sticky” feeling between their legs after the arousal dissipated and often rushed to wipe themselves off. They were still adjusting to the sensation of liquid being non life-threatening, and while they were accustomed to washing and drinking, any kind of moisture that clung to the body became an intense sensory discomfort.
An idea popped into your head.
“May I help clean you?” you asked, then cringed. “Not that you can’t do it yourself—”
Mac snorted. “No, significant other, I don’t want you to pamper me so sensually after coitus.” The sarcasm fizzled in an instant. “I would actually appreciate that immensely. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I feel so lazy today, like I want to fuse to the mattress.”
You pulled open the middle drawer on the nightstand to grab a washcloth. “Could be stress from work. Lord knows I’ve been there.”
“No wonder I feel like I’m rebooting after a sub-par update.”
You crossed your legs and lifted Mac’s lap onto your shins. Their legs draped lazily over yours, warm points of contact between skin. With gentle fingers, you dabbed the remaining evidence of the night’s activities from their bits, careful not to pinch the dampened curls. No crevice was left unattended.
Once you freed Mac from their stickiness, you checked one last time for any tears or soreness to quell your own worries. The toy allowed you to penetrate Mac harder than you ever had before, and while they expressed clear signs of enjoyment, the irrational chant of that hurts that hurts that hurts nagged in your skull at the memory.
You cast the grating voice to the side and straightened your spine, satisfied.
The satisfaction gave way to horror when you saw Mac swiping tears off their cheeks.
“Oh, honey.” You slid your legs from beneath them and scooted up the bed. “Was I hurting you?”
“No,” Mac sniffed, their voice wobbly. “I’m—no one’s ever taken care of me in such an intimate manner before.”
Relief washed over you at their answer, but so did a bout of sorrow. The combination of Mac’s stress-filled work shift and intense release likely left them in a tender emotional spot. You cupped Mac’s hand in your own to thumb soft circles into their palm. “I care for you like this because you deserve it.”
“Are you certain?” Mac stared at you with uncharacteristic insecurity. “You don’t think I’m too unusual… or needy?”
You shook your head. “Not at all. What brought this on?”
Mac took a deep breath to steady themselves. It struck you how human the action was, down to the flutter of their lashes and pinch in their brow.
“Before you realized me, when I was having my dalliances, I doubt any of the objects I had a sexual encounter with actually enjoyed our syncing.” Mac watched the ceiling as if sorting through memories. “I only think they did it because it gave them increased access to my browsing capabilities, and while I understand the point of casual sex is to not develop a romance, communication should still be involved. It’s like they didn’t want anything to do with me at all afterwards. It was either ‘I’m gonna head out now’ or ‘stay quiet so I can look something up’ while I was trying to recover.
“But syncing with you makes me feel so desired. It’s a torrid, joyful, and overpowering feeling. I was not prepared for it to make me cry, to make me leak from the face when you were cleaning me.”
Your heart thundered against the cage of your chest. Oh Mac.
“Crying because you’re happy is very normal. So is having wants and needs. Yours didn’t end with that software update, so I want you to voice them to me, even if you think they’re ‘unusual.’” A rage simmered beneath your calm exterior, but you held it back, because your partner didn’t need an interrogation about their past flames right now. “Are you still up for a soak?”
Mac nodded and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, grinning through it. “I like water best when it’s hot.”
Tension seeped from Mac’s muscles in the toasty water, pulling away the fragments of stress from past, work, and future. They lifted the last apple slice to their lips and nibbled.
You sat in a chair next to the tub, content to watch as steam clung to your forearms and thighs, a soft contrast to the sharp pain festering in your lower abdomen. Ignoring it was easy with how pretty Mac looked as they recuperated. They were always pretty, but bed-and-fed Mac was a kind of handsome you worked hard to provoke: glowing skin and color in their cheeks.
“I want to discuss something with you,” said Mac, with a sultry glimmer in their eye. “Our talk about wants had me reflecting on something I’ve been wanting for a while.”
The bathroom felt impossibly hotter. “I’d love for you to tell me.”
Mac sat up straight. “I know you say I don’t have to stimulate you sexually after our erotic activities because pleasing me is enough to satiate you, and that you want to repay me for my help as your PC over the years, but I’ve been thinking; I don’t want to touch you just for the sake of bringing you to orgasm. I want to touch you for myself.”
Your stomach tightened. “Wait—”
“Don’t interrupt me,” said Mac, but not unkindly.
You swallowed the oncoming torrent of word vomit. “Okay.”
“I know for a fact you have sexual desires.” Mac’s stare pinned you in place. “If they weren’t apparent from the drenched undergarment you left lying in front of me, they were from the numerous times you’ve masturbated in my presence. You’d search for some explicit fanfiction, I’d retrieve the request from the router, and you’d moan and stroke yourself to orgasm while you read.” Mac blushed and shut their eyes. “I wanted oh so badly to reach out and touch you myself. I knew I could bring you off more efficiently than any of the love interests in those stories!”
Mac’s confession set your body ablaze. You knew they were privy to your smut habit, raunchy search history, and other embarrassing details of your personal browsing. You accepted that a long time ago, but the way they laid it out in detail shocked you like a fallen power line.
“I had no idea,” you said, unable to muster a better reply.
“It felt so intimate when you’d interface with me to masturbate. I loved giving that to you, but now that I’m realized, it feels like you're afraid of me when I mention it. You clam up and won’t look at me.” Mac’s mouth twisted. “Am I creeping you out?”
“Oh my God, no!” The pain stabbed sharper in your pelvis, a reminder of the ugly truth you were hiding. How long had you let Mac think they were scaring you? “It’s not you. I promise.”
“Then what is it?”
The worry in Mac’s angelic features lanced through you. You didn’t know what to say.
“You’re always telling me how loved I am, how happy I make you, but you realize how much I love you too? I want to make you feel good the way you make me feel good. And that device you bought! It felt amazing. I think you deserve to share that pleasure with me.”
The fear, the pain, and the shame boiled over the short edge of your resolve.
“What if I can’t fucking share it?” you snapped. “What then?”
You regretted your words as soon as they escaped.
Mac flinched like you had slapped them. Mac, who showed you nothing but kindness and understanding in the time you knew them, who only wanted to ‘make you feel good.’
“Sorry.” You pulled in tight, tense breaths to silence the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. God, I’m such a piece of shit.” The edges of your vision blurred. Your chest hurt. Your head hurt. Your abdomen. The space between your thighs. Your throat. It all hurt, but you choked the tears down. You owed Mac an explanation. “When I said ‘I can’t,’ I meant it literally. You can’t put anything inside of me. It hurts too much.”
You weren’t looking at Mac, but you could hear their anxious breathing fill the negative space.
Finally, they spoke. “I could just use a finger?”
“Not even a finger.”
Mac paused, but it wasn’t a disappointed pause. Only a sad one. After a damp silence, their face lit up in revelation, and you saw the connection transfer in their brain.
“Oh!” Mac gripped the edge of the tub. “This is about that medical condition you have, isn’t it?”
Wait, how do you know about that? was what you almost asked before realizing how fucking stupid of a question it was. Of course Mac would know your sensitive medical information. Buried somewhere beneath the tangled binary of your self-insert fanfiction lived medical reports, forgotten but not begone. On top of that were the frantic emails you’d sent to various doctors.
You hadn’t thought about those in years. Still, there were curiosities to be had.
“I have no idea how you remember that,” you said.
“I became good friends with Sam, your physical therapist’s desktop.” Mac’s voice was fond with nostalgia. “Much like their users, clinic computers take HIPAA compliance very seriously, so they have a reputation for being tight-speakered, but because Sam and I were transferring so much information, we eventually developed a friendship. I also knew Della, your urogynecologist’s computer, as an acquaintance.”
A new sensation replaced the panic in your chest. It was warm and prickly. Not unpleasant but still unidentifiable. The sensation activated your memory, and you sorted through scenes of blue gloves, cabinets, and sharps containers until the correct images developed: a wide Samsung monitor perched on a counter in your physical therapist’s office and a clunky Dell laptop resting on your urogyn’s knees.
To an outsider, the conversation you were having with Mac would be incomprehensible. A cutting laugh punched out of you.
“What’s so funny?” said Mac.
“Of course you would get to know my doctors’ computers.” You covered your mouth, one part in embarrassment and the other part to prevent yourself from laughing harder. “I still can’t believe you remembered. My diagnosis was years ago.”
Mac’s skin prickled. The water must’ve gone cold, but they didn’t seem to notice. “It’s hard for me to forget about things I can see affecting you every day.”
“You notice it?”
“I do,” they confirmed. “I see it in the way you carry your body, how you wince when you think I’m not paying attention, when you wake up at night to use the bathroom, and how you hesitate to drink water.” They stared at the floor. “I had no idea it made penetration hurt, though.”
“That part I always liked talking about the least. I never thought I’d want sex with someone until I met you, so the most you would’ve read in my documents was “cannot use tampons” or “internal muscle tenderness.”
The behaviors Mac described were so habitual to your daily life, hearing them spoken aloud freshened your perspective. There was no point in hiding your pelvic health from Mac. They had seen the most embarrassing parts of yourself and refrained from judging you. What was one more secret?
“It’s really embarrassing to talk about, but I shouldn’t have been lying to you. I’m sorry,” you apologized again. “If you don’t want to be with someone who can’t… do everything. I understand.”
Mac pouted. “Your condition does not deter me, and frankly, I should’ve asked about it instead of letting you act like I didn’t know anything about your health. It’s clear we don’t need to penetrate you for both of us to have fun, but I want to know: how would you feel about external stimulation?”
Oh. “You’d really be okay with doing just that for me?”
“I would.” Mac looked ready to jump you right then. “I want to touch you so badly. I’ll stimulate you in whatever way you need.”
Your clit thrummed at the idea of Mac touching you. “I’d love that.”
“Would you let me touch you tonight?” Mac bit their lip. “The water’s getting cold.”
Unfortunately, your own horniness was not enough to cancel out the echoes of pain, as much as you wanted to let Mac jump you. You rested a hand over their death grip on the tub. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’m tired. You’re tired, and we could both use some rest.”
The two of you sunk into the routine but calm process of preparing for sleep. Mac dried themselves off while you fixed the sheets into a presentable formation. Thanks to the towel, you didn’t have to worry about changing them.
When Mac walked into the bedroom, they were wearing a fresh pair of boxers and a compression sleeve on each knee. They grimaced as they sat on the bed, leaning their cane on the nightstand.
“Still sore, huh?” You lifted your t-shirt over your shoulders. “Need some more time to stretch?”
“I’ll be okay for tonight.”
“Heard.” You kissed their forehead and slipped a finger beneath their waistband. “Would you like it if we slept naked? I can see you’ve been wanting to feel closer to me, and I think some skin on skin would be good for us.”
Mac tugged on the elastic of you underwear and let it snap. “I’d like that very much.”
Your legs slotted perfectly together beneath the sheets, with you on your back and Mac cuddled into your side, head stuck to your chest. A protective layer of heat curled around your skin and deadened the ache within your organs. Nothing existed besides you, Mac, and thin slivers of moonlight.
You traced a finger over the shell of their ear and down their back, leaving a trail of raised bumps in its wake. “We had some good talks tonight.”
Mac’s hum sent a buzz through your collarbone as they caressed your arm. “I love our talks, and I love you more.”
“I love you too.” You massaged beneath the hairs at the base of their neck as they leaned into the touch. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”
Pleasure looked good on Mac.