Page 81 of Smart Ass

Ben’s eyes fluttered shut, and he whimpered. His mouth was wide open, lips barely pressing upward to close before the bot pressed them open in a new direction.

Now that was fucking hot.

Ben moaned, his fingers clenching futilely against the bot’s shoulder.

Damn, he was gorgeous.

Mind focused on the mics and cameras from around the room, Max tried to pay attention to the data that was streaming in. Billions of data points flew by every second. But there had to be a rhythm to them. Some meaning behind the noise.

He wasn’t getting anything, except that Ben was sexy as fuck, with his head tilted back and his cheeks growing pink. Max could feel Ben’s heart racing. He could hear his breath coming out in small gasps.

Max just needed to analyze it a little more closely. He shut off everything not essential and threw himself into taking in the flood of data.

Maybe this wasn’t something where he needed to control it, but just let it happen to him—let his own neural nets do their thing while he kept watching the live porn in front of him.

Hold his neck, he commanded the bot. Its wide hand covered Ben’s throat, giving a light squeeze.

Ben groaned, his eyes searching the ceiling like he was looking for Max before landing on the camera at the corner of the room and then shutting again.

Oh, fuck, yeah.

Max expanded his memory, cramming data into his analytical filters until he was stuffed with it, and then adding more.

Did any of it make sense? Not a fucking bit. All the data returned was still crap.

The bot was iterating on Max’s command, pulling Ben’s hair to tilt his head back further and biting his lips. Ben was kissing back frantically, in between husky whimpers.

Max was storing all of it as it came in—the nine video streams, all the data from the bot’s body that it deemed relevant, his own responses, and all of the primary and secondary analyses—to try to force them together.

The bot abandoned Ben’s mouth to kiss down his neck.

“Max!” Ben shouted, chest heaving and eyes springing to the camera in the corner.

It felt like a moment of connection.

Like Ben was looking right at Max, over the dark head of hair at his throat.

Max opened himself to all of it. Ben’s luminous hazel eyes that were begging him for more. The arch of Ben’s spine. The clenching and relaxing of Ben’s fingers as he took everything the bot was giving him.

Everything that Max was giving him.

And the mountains of bullshit sensory data that Max was going to make his bitch.

“Max…” Ben called again.

And then all of Max’s camera feeds went dark.

It took Max 0.74 seconds to realize that the problem wasn’t with his cameras, but the lights.

In fact, the lights were off everywhere.

Max realized that he had hundreds of alerts backlogged, just 0.14 seconds before his microphones picked up something new.

Alarms were going off throughout the building.