He thinks about it more than he should, but it's not as if there's a lot of women hanging around the Sanctuary, and even if Erika were here she's not what he's looking for anyway, she's too into tech, too liable to orgasm on principle, turned on by the mechanics of the thing. He supposes that's why he's so fond of thinking of Abby, why it's been almost impossible to get her out of his head lately when he's been calibrating the thing.
She didn't know the first thing about tech; she couldn't tell a soldering iron from a screwdriver. It's not something that he usually finds attractive in any sense of the word, but she had been so eager to help, to learn and she had been so proud of herself, of them, in the end. In that, she reminds him of himself, and so he's willing to indulge this for what it is, a fantasy, a fantasy of fucking Abby with the machine he in fact, intends to gift to Erika.
Long distance relationships were difficult even without the time difference and he wanted to give Erika something to make things a little easier. Of course to do that he had to make sure his tech worked to specifications and he couldn't do that without someone to test it on, which was where Abby came in.
It always started the same, Will volunteering Abby when he found out about Henry's little project. It's all a little odd, things starting out that way, but Henry knows Will’s generally up for anything if the there’s a worthy cause involved and he’s always gotten the feeling that Abby's not as innocent as she seems. She shows up in his lab some time later. She's always wearing something different, her work clothes, a dress, one of Will's old t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. It's never quite the same thing twice, but she always shows up without any underwear on, the minx.
She's apprehensive, nervous, but she settles onto an empty, blanket covered lab table without question when he asks, and lies back onto the pillow he pilfers from his couch. It takes a bit of fiddling with the wiring, settling the machine into place, before he's stammering a bit awkwardly. She's always sweet about it, smiling at him and reaching for his hand. It's an odd thing for a fantasy, the embarrassing rambling he can't quite stop himself from spewing in real life, but here he almost likes it, the way it seems to put her at ease. She's still wide-eyed, but she's less tense, yielding when he reaches to brush her knee to the side.
He never offers her any sort of warm-up, he never asks if she would like a moment or perhaps some lube. It's not that she's aroused, although he supposes to some extent it registers that she is, but that there's no need here, in his fantasy, to bother with yet more awkward fumbling. There's no questions just a quiet exhale as he slides the head of the silicone dildo against her skin, settling it into place.
It's a bit large for her, being meant for Erika- her proclivities and her HAP physiology- but Abby doesn't protest. She lets him continue with his work, tapping commands into the device and then stepping aside, standing halfway between the machine and where her hand wraps around the cool metal of the table.
The machine works slowly at first, gears spinning silently, the shaft disappearing between Abby's legs steadily, persistently until she swallows, shifting a bit, trying to accommodate the relentless press of silicone against sensitive nerves. It fills her completely again and again and then begins to speed up, the motor beginning to hum. It's background noise, white noise to the sound of Abby's heels slipping to the end of the table and back again, her fingers sliding against metal, her hair rustling beneath her head.
It speeds up again, the motor's purring now, content as Abby keens, bottom lip freed from between her teeth as her mouth slips open. There's a sheen of sweat covering whatever skin of hers he can see, her legs, neck, upper chest. There's a higher speed, but Henry reaches, punching in a final command, to leave the configuration in its current state.
Abby's close, her eyes pressed shut as he reaches to brush a finger against the back of her hand. He always tries to hold off. He wants to touch her so badly, press his hand over her beating heart, brush his noise against the join of her neck and inhale, he wants to feel her thighs quivering under his fingertips, but this is an experiment, he's supposed to be collecting data, configuring the machine. He knows he's too caught up in her, in the way she's pulled taunt against the surface of his work bench, to do either of those things, but it's still within his power not to touch her, at least for now. He does eventually, touch her though, and it's always the same, his finger against the back of her hand and a new sound, a high whine, is torn from her throat and she's coming, falling over the edge as the machine, his machine, still pounds into her over and over again.
He wants to watch her forever, see that look on her face over and over again, but the fantasy always ends there before he can hear the name that falls from her lips. He loves Erika more than anything; it's safer this way, there's nothing to tempt him, nothing to lead him astray, nothing but this damn machine and the few lines of code he still needs to test.