Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/285531.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Brobot/Jake_English
  Character:
      Brobot, Jake_English
  Additional Tags:
      Artificial_Intelligence, Dream_Bubble, POV_Second_Person
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Body_Electric
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-11-29 Words: 1659
****** Digital Afterlife ******
by dogtier
Summary
     Like the Velveteen Rabbit, but with more sloppy makeouts.
It is warm and dry in the place where you awake. The air is crisp and clear.
You try to analyze the weather patterns to determine your location but your
sensors are not responding. You try to switch on your video systems but those
are not responding either. Instead you open your… eyes?
The boy is sitting a few feet away, clad in yellow pajamas that look very soft.
His eyes are wide. Why is Jake dressed like that?
“Hello,” Jake calls. “Are you alright?”
“My systems seem to be malfunctioning,” you say. “I must call the creator for
servicing immediately.”
It feels odd to speak. There is movement in your throat. You bring up a hand to
try and see if the speakers are damaged which is when you look down and notice
what is going on. The metal of your hand is softening as you watch, grey color
melting and disappearing form the surface like a clearing mist. Underneath is a
warm pink color.
Skin, your logic units provide. We are acquiring skin.
“Is that painful?” Jake asks.
“I believe humans would call the sensation tickling,” you respond.
“That’s good,” Jake says. “I’d go for help, but I don’t know where we are. I
just woke up a few minutes before you started doing the whole Pinocchio act.”
“Pinocchio?” you ask. You try to search your memory banks for the reference
only to discover you don’t have memory banks anymore.
“Turning into a real boy,” Jake explains.
“This does not make sense,” you say.
“Things often don’t in dreams,” Jake says.
“This cannot be a dream, machines do not experience REM sleep,” you say.
“Oh,” Jake responds. “Are we dead then?”
You consider the possibility. The last thing you remember is your power source
being removed. You suppose that would count as a death.
“That is possibly,” you say. “Though I have lost the ability to exactly compute
the probability of that assumption being correct.”
“You’re an odd fellow,” Jake says. He crawls closer and carefully reaches out.
“May I?”
You offer him your hand. He takes it in his own, turning it palm side up and
tracing the lines and swirls. His fingers are warm and perfectly soft, utterly
lacking calluses or scars of any sort. The fresh pinkness of your own skin is
fading, leaving behind a pale, pale peach that contrasts with Jake’s tan
fingers beautifully.
“You’re shivering,” Jake says.
“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. Your mouth moves when you talk, tongue working,
saliva swirling about, teeth clicking. It’s completely disconcerting.
“It must be a bit of a shock,” Jake says. “Oh, I’m Jake by the way. I probably
should have said that earlier.”
“I know who you are, Jake,” you tell him.
“Oh,” Jake says. “Sorry, I can’t say the same. My memories are a bit muddled
right now. I’m sure they’ll sort themselves out soon. I can’t imagine myself
forgetting a chap like you completely. It would be utterly rude of me.”
You can’t stop licking your newly acquired lips. You had imagined touching
Jake’s many times but you hadn’t ever considered what it would be like to have
a pair yourself. Jake is watching you do it curiously.
“Strider?” Jake tries. “Is your name Strider? I seem to remember someone named
that.”
“Strider is my creator,” you tell him.
“Well, that would make you Strider as well, wouldn’t it?” Jake says. “Carrying
on the family name and all that rubbish.”
“Your logic is sound,” you say. Jake smiles at you, his uneven teeth pearly
white in the brightness of the afterlife. You grip his hand tightly and pull,
making him tumble over you.
“Bit clumsy there, huh?” Jake says. “It’s okay, you’re probably not used to the
whole human thing. You’re very warm.”
You wrap your other arm around Jake’s back, holding him close.
“Aw, a hug. You should have said,” Jake says. “I have to admit, I’m not the
most experienced with embracing, but I will do my best.”
You squeeze him gently, then again harder when you realize you’re not going to
crush him. He laughs and sort of snuggles against you, tucking his face into
the space between your neck and shoulder. You feel his breathing tickling the
tiny hairs that cover your new skin and you start shivering again.
“It’s alright,” Jake murmurs against you. “This is pretty nice for being dead.”
His pajamas are as soft as you imagined and you rub your fingers over it,
tracing the gentle curve of his spine. Jake sighs. You fight the urge as long
as you can but it’s a battle you are losing rapidly. You reach up and place one
hand on his jaw, tilting his face until you have a proper angle for pressing
your lips against his.
“Oh,” Jake says quietly.
You kiss again, harder, pressing out with your tongue to see if his lips feel
the same as your own. He opens his mouth and you find yourself trying to
analyze the taste. It’s slightly salty and his teeth knock against yours. It’s
messy, messier than you had expected. Your chin is wet and you wonder which of
you is drooling so much. You run your hands down Jake’s back, hesitating just
above his hips and rubbing in soothing circles instead of going any lower. It
wouldn’t do for Jake to think you aren’t a gentleman. Jake is wriggling to try
and find a better position and accidentally (or so you assume) presses a leg
between yours and oh… oh. So you are a real boy now.
You groan loudly, breaking the kiss. Jake pulls back and readjusts his glasses,
looking down at you curiously. He moves his leg slightly and your body bucks
without your intent or permission. Flesh is going to be hard to get accustomed
to.
Jake laughs.
“You’re blushing,” he says. He leans down and rubs his nose against yours.
“It’s cute.”
“Thank you,” you say, unsure of the proper response. He presses a quick kiss on
your lips as he runs his hand down your side. He pushes up the shirt of the
weird purple clothes you are wearing and you never realized how sensitive the
skin on a human’s stomach was.
“You’re still a little grey,” Jake says. “Look, when I touch it disappears.
Weird.”
You look and he’s right. His fingers are chasing away the last traces of
metallic grey on your skin. He pushes the shirt up further and for some reason
you’re surprised to find out you have nipples. Your creator may have been
weird, but not weird enough to endow his robotic gift with a pair of those.
Jake traces his finger over one of the new little pink nubs of flesh and it
feels so wonderful that you drop your head back, sighing.
“You really like that,” Jake says quietly as he rubs small circles around your
nipple. You just hum in response, unable to come up with an appropriate
response. You wish he would kiss you again, but then he leans down and licks
right between his pinching fingers and that was clearly a much, much better
idea. Jake’s so smart. Smartest boy ever, in fact, because he pushes his leg
against your erection again at the same time. Your hands come up and one
tangles its fingers in his hair to hold him against you while the other forgets
about being a gentleman and grabs his ass.
You grind against Jake and he moans, pulling his leg from between yours and
hitching it over your hip, lining up so he can rub his growing erection against
yours. You tug him by his hair, mourning the loss of his mouth on your nipple
but needing to kiss him again like your new lungs need air. You knock his
glasses off in your enthusiasm, but he makes no move to try to find them so you
figure he doesn’t mind that much. Kissing him is so nice, you have wanted to do
this forever, or at least since your programming first became self-aware. Maybe
even before that because you can’t imagine your creator making anything that
didn’t want to kiss Jake English. Those stupid auto responding shades of his
are going to be so fucking jealous.
Your movements are becoming frantic. It’s hard to keep your concentration on
kissing because of how fast your heart is beating. You’re short of breath and
your body feels hot and clammy all over. You would like to take your clothes
off, but that would require letting go of Jake. You settle for pushing up his
shirt instead, so that you can feel that he’s as sweaty and flustered as you
are. You slide one hand between your bodies and trail your fingers up, trying
to find his nipples in an attempt to repay his earlier favor. You’re not quite
sure how much pressure to apply, but Jake’s pleasured keening seems to indicate
you are on the right track.
“Oh fiddle whistling,” Jake mutters along with strings of other nonsense.
“Fiddle whistling fucking oh fuck.”
You understand his sentiment. You drag him closer and rut up against him a few
more times, the pressure building in your groin to what seems like an
unbearable level before finally breaking.
Things are a bit blurry until Jake collapses on top of you, knocking the air
from your lungs. You push his side until he rolls off.
“Sorry,” Jake murmurs against your hair. You try to pet him comfortingly, but
end up just sort of smacking him instead. Muscle coordination seems to be
something escaping you at the present time.
“Sorry,” you tell him. He chuckles softly and you can’t help but join in.
“This is lovely and all,” Jake says. “But do you think maybe in a little bit we
could get cleaned up and take a look around? I’m sure together we’ll have a
positively spiffing afterlife.”
“Sounds perfect.”
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