Page 144 of Smart Ass

His limbs went slack.

He submitted.

Oliver was everything.

His mind was still hazy as his lungs worked for him, sucking in air until his chest could almost pop.

He gulped it in, letting his body take the lead.

Oliver slowly freed his hands and settled his legs on the mattress, massaging the tender skin. The bot’s softening cock slipped easily out of him, and its face nuzzled into his neck.

He turned into it, then away. He poked it in the shoulder. “Off. Now.” It was too eerily human, and this was his special moment with Oliver.

The sexbot rose and disappeared, letting the cool air rush across his heated skin.

Ben lay, panting and dazed, as the lights slowly rose to a soft glow. He let Oliver fuss over him with the other bots, though, pulling a blanket over him and bringing him little treats of melon balls and chocolate. He drank down a tall bottle of water, and then a second.

One bot combed through his hair, while another stroked down his back in long, soothing caresses.

“You were amazing,” Oliver told him. “Perfect.”

“You were amazing,” Ben said, feeling lazy and content. He snuggled up against the hand on his back, nuzzling into the one on his head.

Now that he was starting to come down, a bruise throbbed on his hip. Scratches stung his skin, little gifts of pain to revel in for the next few days.

He loved whips and floggers, but there was something special about cuts and bruises that he’d earned. Each one could call up a different memory. The dash across the lawn. The race through the trees. Flailing against inhuman strength.

All of them sang with Oliver’s name.

Fuck, he was the luckiest boy in the world.

“I heard what you said,” Oliver whispered.

Ben closed his eyes and gave a little nod. Yeah, he’d said it.

“I love you, too.”

Ben smiled.

Maybe he’d get better at saying it. He really should, for Oliver’s sake.

But he was pretty sure that Oliver knew.

Oliver could read him better than anyone else.

Ben didn’t know how long it was before Oliver led him to the house, half leaning on one of the bots.

At the door, Oliver smoothly transferred him to one of the indoor bots, who ushered him into the shower.

Ben hissed when the warm water met his skin. Oliver extended arms out from the walls to wash him with soft cloths, gently turning him when it was time to rinse.

“Do you want any lotion?” Oliver asked.

“Nope,” Ben grinned. “These are my trophies.”

One of the dexterous hands took his wrist while another turned the tracker on his watch back on.

Ben laughed. “That was killing you, wasn’t it?”