Work Text:
He’d gone manic.
His whole life thus far, Ramattra had known there was a world of differences between omnics like him, and humans like you.
He could not breathe in the way you do, air passing through his body for far different reasons than as a basic necessity to live, unlike the way you had to. Yet still he would feign a sigh, a huff, a scoff– breaths he was neither drawing in or out but merely mocking human mannerisms to get his attitude conveyed.
He could not sleep like you could, and not for very long- nor was it required by any means. He would choose to sleep as he would choose to mediate; he felt for long there was a growing rift between you both in that, dreadfully feeding himself the thought that you’d be asleep, completely unconscious, for nearly half your lifetime. And he, left to observe your gathering years of unconsciousness, in wait to have you at his side again every morning?
He had no need for food, or water. He hated how soon you’d grow fatigued after he spent hours basking in your presence, interrupted by the body’s organic requirement for consumption. You’d only be gone for minutes, and still, he held his hate.
He had never known taste, or smell. You speak of these scents and flavors with a passion that stirs a kind of jealousy from him, uncertain if he wished to understand it or wished to be what you spoke so fondly of in that moment. He felt vacant when he looked upon the deserts and pastries you fed on, described as being warm and soft, in contrast to a steadily increasing expansion of coldness in his chassis that made his fingers curl into his palms.
He could understand where the ingredients for such things stemmed from, he could know how it was made. He could appreciate the practice it takes to get something
just right
, and the time taken to carefully manufacture such a delicacy– something he was never destined to take part in as an omnic.
Ramattra felt he was so separated from you, in ways he had tried to speak to you about. He did not want your pity, and that you never gave. You listened to him, you were the
only
one who listened anymore, and that was enough. While you shared slim to none of the traumas he’d had to endure or his typical daily life experiences, he truly felt that you understood him in ways no other human has.
There was much he could not experience or fully grasp, and there were so many other things he could not provide for you as a partner. But you’d remind him you were just as flawed in that regard, and it wasn’t his functions you’d fallen in love with. You did not have his strength, nor could you stay on your feet as long as he did as much as you’d wanted to. Standing next to him, you were a weak thing. But what did that matter?
You were right, of course. But still he ached when you’d kissed into his palm, knowing he would never be able to return such a gesture the same way.
It was only you who could ever make him wish he were more human— more than he was made in the image of a man.
And then you’d been away for a week– only a week, on some visit to whomever else you seemed to care about. Ramattra couldn’t be bothered to remember, you spoke so little of your peers and family anyway (and it’s not as if you’d make an introduction, they would never approve of an R-7000 partner).
But he’d been left to his own devices– quite literally, staring into large red screens that hung in the air and displayed his most recent designs and projects. He hadn’t shared much of these with you either– how could he?
“ Would you like to join me on an extended excursion of justice by means of terrorism against your people? I’ll try not to annihilate all of them, I promise. ”
He could not roll his eyes in the way a human could, but he still moved his head as if he had.
What a ridiculous proposal.
As he scrolled through a thousand blueprints, plans, and work-in-progress name ideas (District Zero, Black Parade, The Void Province, Null Sector?) he kept finding constants– pointed claws and jagged edges, for traction– efficient in slicing at opponents and surroundings, carving into anything that draws near his creations. All in order to ensure as much destruction as possible.
There were discarded concepts, ones with hinged contraptions and razored margins, something akin to teeth. Snapping melee attacks from mechanical jaws that would have guaranteed anyone within range a fatal blow– though they lacked in speed to give way to a surplus of strength. Not at all as tactical as he preferred.
But here alone, as he floated in his thoughts without an anchor– which tends to be you, in most cases: his moral compass– an idea had occurred to him. A couple, in fact, frenzied and curious.
Ramattra grasped at his jaw, a dormant adornment on his face. What a futile ornament it was, a jaw on an omnic , but he wouldn’t deny his reverence for it– going so far as to repaint and polish it by hand when he’d taken on custom modifications. He had belief that a mandible was an appealing feature, and now he begins to rediscover what potential it has.
He dragged forward some older designs, quickly opening a blank canvas– colored in urgent red– and began etching furiously into the screen his thoughts before they slipped. He felt pride in naming himself an engineer, and was far from afraid to use himself as a prototype for many attachable mechanics.
This one, he knew, would just be for himself. A burning interest brewed within him an artificial hunger, and his hands danced wildly over the screen as a model was projected above with holographic lights. It was terrifying, brutal. Yet it would provide him such little use other than to frighten, to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.
It brought him satisfaction.
But to you it brought quite the shock.
He’d worked tirelessly upon himself for the week you’d been gone, all nearly complete except for a minor issue he was currently attempting to fix. So with as focused as he was, he startled when you entered the studio, and your mouth dropped open in time with your bag to slip from your grasp and slam into the floor while you stared.
Ramattra turned quickly, and you were greeted with an uncanny smile. His hands scrambled to shut off the projectors and screens nearest him that displayed weapon turnarounds and machines of war that you’d never seen before.
“You’ve returned.” He stammered, nearly losing his balance as he reached behind himself to hide another hologram. You weren’t sure how to register any of this all at once– it came less as a surprise that it existed than the fact that he was trying to conceal it from you. You figured he would start on this path soon, but…
…the mouth?
You were just glad it didn’t move when he spoke. From what you could see, little had changed, but there was a row of pointed fangs lined behind his jaw and faceplate that was difficult to miss, something straight out of a nightmare. If it had just been decoration for something as festive as Halloween, you wouldn’t have bat an eye– but it was far from the holiday, and you couldn’t fathom any other justification for what you were seeing.
Your silence was jarring to him. Being observed in his place of work, typically his safespace, now turned quickly into what felt like a hostile environment. He didn’t accommodate for what you might think– that hadn’t occurred to him at all in the last several days. He’d been so focused on getting this right, being pleased with it for himself– it boiled worry in his abdomen. He kept his jaw snapped shut, shrinking back against the counter he was working over.
“My love–” Ramattra began, rushing for an excuse, for a promise of the temporary. But you spoke over him.
“Let me see.”
Now you were walking toward him.
He shuffled himself in a line toward the corner, unprepared to be studied. He wasn’t finished– no, and he couldn’t get a good read of what exactly you were thinking about it. This wasn’t fear, it couldn’t exactly be disappointment or anger, what was it? What did you think? Make a clearer expression, please,
anything
.
And then he’d felt your hand on the side of his face, and nearly all of his worries for that moment dissipated. As he had accidentally conditioned himself in the time he had learned to love you, he pressed further into your palm and raised a hand to gently cup your wrist. He could read you better now; you seemed calm, curious, though somewhat concerned. He immediately took to explaining himself.
“This was an impulsive endeavor,” He admits quickly with a nervous breath, “I… hope it doesn’t frighten you too much.”
You reply curtly, “Open your mouth.”
Open my mouth.
That was not a command Ramattra had ever been given for as long as he’s been sentient, it wouldn’t have made sense— and he would have taken full offense on any day before this one. It wasn’t even a phrase he had ever imagined could have been directed at him for any reason.
But in this moment, hearing it for the first time was exhilarating.
“For you, of course.” He obliged, suppressing his excitement to reveal his work to you.
His jaw– which you had once known to be static– separates from its stationary position in a slow manner, cautiously revealing to you the jagged fangs he had given himself. They were a pristine white like his mask, glistening, and seemingly made from the same material. Then, from the cavern of his mouth slid a long, shining tendril that mocked what could only possibly be a tongue. It was dripping with a clear substance, appearing syrupy. When you’d tucked a hand under his chin and felt the warm fluid suddenly ooze upon your forearm, he seemed to shift his weight on his feet and murmur to you bashfully.
“There is a superfluous salivation issue… I have been trying to fix it—”
A curious, smaller hand suddenly grasps the artificial muscle, and he flinches as it caught him off guard and stole the rest of his sentence. You held it gently in your palm, goosebumps crawling over your face as a thousand unholy ideas crept into your mind. You could have sworn it was ever so gently pulsing in your light hold, such organic subtle movements making your head spin. You felt your heart hammering heavily in your chest– what was Ramattra thinking , creating something like this?
Your eyes dart up to the slits in his faceplate.
“I don’t know what you could possibly use
teeth
for, but the tongue I’m even less sure about.” You tell him, eyebrows raised as far as they could go. While still holding his tongue, “What did you have in mind for this?”
He could taste you.
The very slight saltiness of your palm, the unpleasant tang of whatever perfume you’d rubbed into your wrist. He’d heard of such descriptors for these things before, he was quietly ecstatic to finally understand what they meant. The synthetic appendage slowly curls down your arm from where you held it. Your breath hitched.
“Intimidation.” He answers shortly with a partial truth. You knew him better than that, but he wasn’t being the most open about his developments, it seemed. Probably best not to pry, but then you would simply continue to explore his design and figure it out yourself.
The gentle hand from under his chin comes up on top of the tongue, warm fingers closing together to follow its length into his mouth. The rise and fall of his chest quickened, pumps suddenly working extra hard in his body and making his processors spin. He craned his head forward, engulfing your hand as he widens his mouth further for you, and you continue to roam as far back as the tendril went.
It took far more concentration than he was prepared for to prevent his jaws from clamping down around your arm.
“ A-ah— “ His tongue lurched in your hold when you felt at a soft spot near its base, far in the back of his jaws. His hands spasmed. You squeeze lightly, curiously, and his shoulders roll back and begin to shake as a strangled noise emits from his vocalizer– though he wasn’t in any pain. Humming thoughtfully, you carefully reel your touch away from him, feeling a chill run up your spine at the way his tongue slipped around your skin. He, in turn, draws the tendril back into his mouth, physically shuddering as the contact was lost. His body relaxes with a sigh, taking a moment to get himself together before speaking.
“...You… you are not disturbed?”
“A little.” You were honest, wiping the wetness from your hands over the sides of your pants, “But it’s also kind of endearing.”
Ramattra repeated, “Endearing?”
Not a word he was expecting, but he was more than willing to accept that as your truth.
“Don’t get me wrong, it is pretty intimidating. You accomplished that.” Soft hands settle around his waist, bringing your hips flush to his. He makes a quiet noise from the movement, studying you carefully as you held his gaze and spoke in a tone most alluring to him. “...But I can think of some other fun uses besides being scary.”
You shrug at the suggestion, and large metal hands take purchase on your shoulders. They were
shaking
, with him having caught on to your implication almost immediately. This was not a route he had planned for or considered– it couldn’t possibly be safe, either? The injuries he could accidentally inflict if he took things too far; a concern he
always
had when it came down to intimacy regardless of the attachments he was using. His voice was dragged in a way that seemed tired, but intrigued– like he was trying to hold back.
You knew this voice well.
“ Please do not give me any more ideas than I’ve already had. I cannot imagine actually keeping this as a permanent feature.”
You embrace Ramattra fully then, pressing your cheek into his chest and smiling. He stiffened slightly, especially as you hum against him with laughter, though his reaction was far from uncomfortable. Had this been any other human this would have been far more out-of-place and inappropriate– this new appearance of his was not meant to
arouse
. But he found relief that you were not afraid; now he wanted nothing more than to squeeze you against his body at that moment, and hoist you into his arms. To secure you against his chest, as if he were trying to make you part of him. You could feel it in his hesitancy to hug you back that he was absolutely considering the things he could do to you.
But he said nothing else.
“Ah, fine.” You coo at him and hold him tighter for just a second longer before pulling back and facing him again.
“I really missed you, though! I’d love to tell you all about my trip, or— you could show me what other things you have been working on since I was gone? Were those robots?”
Everything inside him that was not physical suddenly flipped and froze. You had him.
“On a second thought,” Ramattra said after ‘clearing his throat’, still not necessarily an action he needed to take. But his means to convey his change of heart made you giggle; how kind of him to be so open about your ideas (really, you were just aware he would rather not admit to you his plans just yet).
With a quick swipe of an arm, several tools and excess materials cluttered to the floor in a poor orchestra of startling clangor. His hands then hook beneath your arms and you find yourself sat upon the countertop in front of him, seated neatly in the area he had
so politely
cleared for you. He stands himself between your legs.
“I have missed you as well.”
Your smirk did not waver, and you shook your head at him in amusement. “Oh, but you didn’t pick up my calls, or come get me from the airport. You’ve been radio silent all week, Rama’. Did you even feed the dog while I was away?”
For the first accusations, he actually felt guilty for the second it took you to speak to him. Up until the last thing, then his shoulders sagged in realization. He would have gone more deadpan than his permanent resting face if he could.
“We do not have a dog.” And he didn’t have a car, either. Or a phone.
He was still learning when to play along. That’s okay.
You laugh anyway, sitting up straighter and tossing your arms over his shoulders.
“Oh whatever, you brute. Kiss me.”
Kiss you?
Ramattra wouldn’t tell you no, but how exactly did you expect him to accomplish that? The same as before, perhaps— pressing his face against yours in some pathetic attempt to mimic what you desired most often from him?He’d replicated mobile jaws upon himself but he hadn’t taken to developing anything as intricate as
lips
.
Still, you were already pulling him closer before he could figure out what exactly you wanted from him, his hands taking up your hips as you gently pushed your mouth into the slight separation of his faceplate and chin. Without further consideration, he leans into you, drawing a lick across your lips that rewards him with a surprised squeak. Then, all at once, his mouth parts and that tongue is sliding into your mouth. A growl rolls from him as you shiver, relaxing your face so you could take him in.
He found himself surprised and enthralled by your taste— guessing this was the ‘mint’ most humans used to refresh their palette. He relished in the way your mouth seemed to want to close around his intrusion, a titillating oral hug. But he pushed past, sliding the tendril further back in the way your hand had done to his own mouth just before.
And as Ramattra pulls you closer to him by your thighs, he’s practically on top of you as he fills your throat with his tongue. He hummed, delighted, as your gullet swallows around him, trying not to choke. You grasp tightly to his exterior with your eyes squeezed shut. Spittle runs thick down your chin.
He could feel everything. From the gentle throbbing of your esophagus to the subtle trembling of your jaw, he’d never felt so close to being organic . It was grotesque, truly, this unconscious squishing nonsense of muscle that was trying to guide his tongue further into your body— and yet he was entirely and willingly captivated by the feeling.
Your face felt hot. He was entirely overwhelming you, but it was a more than welcome feeling. He’d had you caged upon the countertop, gripping the sides of your legs with more force than he probably realized at the moment– not at all too painful, but certain to leave some bruising. You manage to peek an eye open as your chest begins to strain with lack of breath, catching the glint of a hidden optic behind his white mask. Then he’d heard you loud and clear.
Without waiting for any further signs, the omnic is quick to pull back. You gag somewhat at how fast the synthetic organ retreated from your throat, your body following his with a lurch, and he catches you by your shoulders. A thick rope of mixed drool spills from your lips, and you cough, raising a hand to wipe away at the mess. All the while, Ramattra watches you carefully, making sure you seem relatively unharmed— and finds himself satisfied when you raise your head to look at him with a dreamy gaze.
“That was certainly… something.” He comments softly, “Is that what you wanted?”
He is spared a moment to revel in the praise of the soft smile you give him, pride making his chest rise slightly. He performed well– he could see it in the shining wetness of your lips, the darkened flush on your cheeks, and the haziness in your eyes. And that was just from a ‘kiss’ .
“Part of it. But I think there’s still more that could be done, no?”
“
More
,” He echoes after a pause, “Of course.”
A chuckle resonates from his chest as large metallic hands slide down your sides. You quickly kick off your shoes and undo your pants while he grabs tightly at the denim hem, then lean back onto your elbows while he rolls the article down and off your legs and discards them to the floor. When he reaches for your shorts, you grasp his chin and his attention. He obediently leans into you again for a quick kiss, rewarding you with a purr after you murmur to him an ‘I love you’ under your breath.
A large hand finds itself between your legs and you suck in a breath, turning your face to the side— then with abrupt vigor, you flinch and let out half a scream when you feel jaws suddenly close around your exposed neck. Ramattra’s knuckles roll against your arousal while his teeth bite into your skin with the threat to draw blood, but he holds restraint.
“Rama—” Your voice gasped to him, nervous, but trusting.
He had half a mind to assure you that you were safe with him, humming gently over you while his hand kneaded you between your thighs. The way your body trembled under him brought him a joy he could never convey to you in words, but with a few seconds of treating you where you needed him most, he loosened his bite from around your throat and relished in the small relieved sigh you gave. His tongue passes over the small indents in your skin where his teeth just were, lapping apologetically at the infliction before he rose up off of you.
He whispers, at least as quietly as his vocalizer would allow him, “Forgive me.”
“Another impulse?” You ask a little breathlessly, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. He doesn’t answer, instead watching as you lift your hips somewhat off the counter to slide your remaining undergarment down your legs. He aids you and takes hold of the cloth to toss it carelessly to the side. Then as he cups your hips in his hands again, he tips his head a little to the side as he looks at you– grin still etched into his mandible.
“To clarify, you want me to put this–” he raises four fingers to his tongue, drawing a generous amount of saliva onto his fingertips and then pushing them against your entrance. The muscle there twitched in surprise at the contact. “–in here?”
You nod shyly to him, humming a quiet approval while appearing quite bashful at having to be asked directly. This draws from him a sigh, though not at all disappointed; rather a feigned tiredness to disguise the adoration he had for your vulgar curiosities. He makes a sound as if he were clicking his tongue.
“Oh, my little human. Does your obscenity never end?”
Empty words, as he slowly kneels before the counter to get level with your nether regions. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, holding the other one out with a hand on your thigh, and you suck your lower lip under your teeth in anticipation. He shuffles close, leaning his head forward to observe the wanting flesh he’s claimed a hundred times before— but never like this. A small, warm hand reaches forth on top of his head, cautiously grasping at the cables of his mane and beckoning him close.
“Alright, I am here.” He chuckles to you, and his mouth widens once more to allow the synthetic tendril to slip free again.
All your lower muscles tense when your entrance is greeted with a warm wetness, the thinner part of his tongue snaking against your arousal and making you shudder. It tickled to some degree, but still sent shivers of pleasure up your body that made the hairs on your neck stand on end, goosebumps crawling down your arms. You wanted so badly for him to just slide it in, and it seemed for a moment he was about too– teasing the tip into the hole before returning to play around at the surface.
“Please,” you murmur, spreading your legs wider for him, “please just—”
He was pulled forward more by the hand in his hair, and his smirk would have widened if it were capable.
“Done.” He acknowledges, and finally his tongue surges forward into you the same way as he had done with your throat.
Your legs immediately attempt to close as a loud moan is ripped from you, growing louder in volume when the muscle coils and swirls inside. He’s resisting against the strength of your hand so as not to have his face pressed harshly into your pelvis, a laugh short in his chest as you shake and writhe almost immediately, and he watches your face twist and contort with the euphoria he delivered. It felt similar as before to him, though so much more warm. Though from here he definitely could see he had a lot more control of your body with his ministrations.
The throat was a fragile contraption– down here, he felt more confident to thrust the tendril against the walls of your soft innards in an attempt to make you scream for him.
And it worked, pleasantly. You threw your head back and sang out his name while he tasted you with such fervor, reaching in as deep as he could go before retreating– curling his tongue into a roll that swelled on the inside of your entrance and made you groan. If only he could have sucked from you the fluids that weep around his tongue– foreign tastes of your flesh that he hadn’t the slightest idea how to describe. He couldn’t stop thinking of the word ‘dessert’.
He lapped hungrily in the farthest places he could reach, chaste areas that elicited a new kind of static up your spine. It felt like your first time all over again, losing yourself in a bliss that had been unknown to you until now, and quickly nearing the end of a high that your body was fighting against as it twitches uncontrollably.
Ramattra growls between your legs, the tone melting into a delighted laughter when your back arches and a strained whine leaves your lips. And just as he’s certain he’s covered as much ground as possible, tongue squirming to coat every inch of your entrails with excess saliva, your body convulses and he feels your muscles spasm around him in familiar ways– though much harder than ever before.
With a surge of strength, your hand manages to capture his head against the inside of your thigh, and you lose your breath as you thrust mindlessly into your orgasm. It lasts a handful of seconds, a trembling you just can’t stop while drool spills from the side of your mouth. But just as soon as you begin regaining control of your limbs, you can feel him continue the battery of his tongue inside you.
But then, quickly, you dart your other hand into his mouth and on top of the muscle, feeling quickly for the base and giving it a harsh squeeze while you show him your own teeth. He makes a choking sound like before, the entire upper half of his chassis flinching– he couldn’t pull back, and his tongue defensively plunges forward into you again. You let out another noise, as did he, and you pull gently at the organ as if to propel more of it inside of you.
One of Ramattra’s hands suddenly slams against the counter in the form of a fist, and you suck in a breath and release him. He rises to stand, his tongue slipping out and following as he rose, and you collapse quickly against the counter as soon as you were emptied of his presence. You were made far more aware then of how your body seemed to pulse in rhythm with your accelerated heartbeat. And you were breathing heavily– but so was he, a sudden hissing sound escaping from his upper back and releasing hot air.
“Sorry if I– hurt you.” You gulp between breaths, looking up at him with knitted brows. But he shakes his head softly at you. A hand gently runs along your outer thigh, taking purchase at your hip.
“No, that–” He pauses, looking for the words, “You are fine. It was… an unexpected feeling, is all.”
You nod gently, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh, good.”
Several moments of quiet pass.
Or rather, as quiet as a room could be between two individuals attempting to cool down or catch their breath. Ramattra was leaned over you, his other hand resting flat against the counter while he took in the state of your form. You basked under his shadow, eyes kept shut, in a way that felt akin to when you slept beside him. He watched your chest rise and fall, slowing by the minute.
He loved when he knew you were at peace.
“Do you enjoy this, human ?”
A word so often said from him that sounded as if ready to kill– yet when referring to you, it was a word most endearing and unique as if you were something so much more than the rest of your species. Your eyes slowly open, looking up at your omnic partner with his current eerie smile and strangely designed tongue. It wasn’t a bad look, but it would certainly take some getting used to if he was going to keep it awhile.
Not that you would mind, if it meant you’d get another round like this.
“I do,” You answer him, “You should welcome me home like this more often.”