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Hector gnaws nervously at his bottom lip from his spot in the vent. He’s in the hallway, staring directly at the door and the person walking through it. You hardly ever have visitors, especially not since the Dateviators, but this man has been making more frequent appearances around the house as of late.
Hector doesn’t like him one bit. His name is Roger or Eric or whatever, something stupid. He’s decent-looking, there’s no denying that. He acts nice, seems like he treats you well enough. It’s fairly new, the thing between the two of you, but he generally makes you happy. Except for one thing: when he fucks you, you don’t cum.
He doesn’t mean to notice. It’s just that there’s a vent in every room, and he isn’t able to tune you out or anything, and… And you sound so beautiful when you’re in the heat of the moment with whoever this idiot is. Your breath is light and fast, you moan and whine in all the right places, but something isn’t right. When Roger or Eric or whatever his stupid name is cums, you pretend you do too, but you don’t.
And how does Hector know this? Because, without meaning to, he’s seen you masturbate many times.
It’s awful. He feels like a piece of shit. When you first moved in, he would do what he could to get away from the sight and sound of you touching yourself. Eventually, a time came when you did it without him having a chance to shield himself. As fucked up as it is, Hector’s curiosity got the better of him once he got over the shock– and he watched. God, you were beautiful, fingers swirling languidly over your clit. After a while, you dipped a finger or two inside, a high-pitched whimper leaving your lips as you did so. You fucked yourself at a steadily increasing pace, and the wet sound of your cunt and your skin filled the room and his ears.
It was hard to explain, as he wasn’t a human and didn’t experience arousal in the same way they did, but he ached all over while he watched you, heard you. He would try to control himself, but he’d start shaking, vents rattling in the walls and a steady drip coming out of him up in the attic. Thankfully, you didn’t go in there enough to notice, otherwise you might think he was broken. He wasn’t. Perhaps a bit depraved and disgusting, but not broken.
When Hector gets riled up from seeing you splayed out on your bed in the throes of pleasure, there is no relief. He isn’t able to take care of things like you do. He makes peace with that, finds it to be of no importance as long as you’re satiated. And when you’re panting, arm thrown over your eyes as you come down off your high, it makes him smile. As long as you’re taken care of, nothing else matters.
Sometimes, Hector would lose control of the temperature a bit while you were playing with yourself. He’d accidentally let out a puff of warm or cold air, sometimes in another room but often in your bedroom. He realized you liked the cold when once, you’d shivered and let out a weak, needy moan at the brush of it between your legs. God, how he wanted to do it again. He wanted nothing more than to send breezes your way to slither up your thigh and settle in that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs. He’d have to clench his fists to keep himself from interfering. It wasn’t his place; it was bad enough that he was observing.
What makes it all worse is that he isn’t even sure you know he exists. Of course you know your HVAC unit exists (though your maintenance of it leaves much to be desired), but you’ve never spoken to Hector, never fixed him with your Dateviators and given him a chance to confess and explain himself. He doesn’t even know if he could do it, face you. You’re so goddamn beautiful. He doesn’t feel worth your time or attention, much less any affection.
But he knows this fucking idiot you’re with deserves it even less. Brought back to the here and now, Hector watches as the human man paws at you roughly before even fully shutting the door. From an outsider’s perspective, you respond well, kissing him back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. But Hector can see your eyes pop open, an uncertain look on your face. It hurts him to see you like this, but perhaps it was just a trick of the light or a strange look of pleasure. He cannot poke his nose into your business any more than he already has.
Telling himself that it’s just to make sure you’re okay, Hector watches and listens as the man undresses you after walking you upstairs to your bedroom. Your eyes keep opening without your boyfriend noticing, and they wind up fixed on the vent, the grate, Hector. He has to steel himself so as not to rattle, which would only frighten you. Your eyes are captivating, pupils blown wide and eyelashes batting up at him.
He knows it’s not for him.
The human man removes his clothes, and Hector stares angrily at his naked back. He proceeds to rip yours off with no gentleness, no delicate touches and loving caresses. An absolute imbecile, Hector thinks. If he were human, he would take care of you. You weren’t a present to be hastily unwrapped; no, you were a divine chocolate candy, to be slowly unraveled before taking the time to enjoy the taste of you.
Your boyfriend slides inside you without giving you enough time or foreplay to truly be ready, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. You make noises now and then, but it’s not right. It isn’t right. Hector feels the temperature increase by a few degrees, which he ashamedly adjusts so that it doesn’t bother you. He can’t seem to maintain a hold on himself, not while you’re lying there almost still, as if only going through the motions. Hector knows that’s not how your orgasms are. He knows what your pleasure looks like more than he knows anything else, and this isn’t it. Not at all.
Focusing his energy, Hector sends a swirl of pleasantly cool air toward you. The bumbling oaf hunched over you is in the way, but he manages to get it around him and to your center. The effort makes him slump; it’s a difficult thing to manipulate rushes of air in such a precise way, but it’s especially hard when he’s so worked up. His fury nearly blinds him, just wanting to please you any way he can. He needs that human boy of yours to just leave.
You gasp as the air brushes your clit. It sends a jolt through Hector like a surge of electricity. That surge gives him enough energy to send another. Anything to hear those pretty sounds from your lips. The man is muttering to you, and it sounds like he’s giddy, thinking that his mediocre sex is what’s doing this to you. Hector grins with pride as you whine again. He knows it’s not from your boyfriend; you’ve never made those sounds for him.
The human collapses on top of you. You nod and plaster on a smile and assure him that yes, you came and yes, it was wonderful. Hector can see on your face that neither of those things is true. The idiot spends a measly minute loosely holding you with one arm before mumbling something Hector can’t catch, likely some pathetic excuse. Not even giving you time to walk him to the door, your boyfriend leaves while you’re still naked in bed.
The look on your face as soon as you hear the front door closing makes Hector break inside. There you lie, uncherished and without having climaxed, over and over again as you deserve to. He can’t have this, he can’t. Given that he’s already interfered so much today, he figures there’s no harm in continuing. He rattles the grate in your bedroom, partly on purpose but a little harder than intended due to his nerves.
You tilt your head, brows furrowed as you study him. Hector does it again; he doesn’t want you to think that it’s a malfunction. It’s him, he’s here, and he wants you. He wants to please you.
Grabbing the Dateviators from your bedside drawer, you pull them on and point them at Hector.
Holy shit. Hector feels himself sweat as you fix those pretty eyes on him. You’re still naked, blinking up at him with curiosity and confusion. There’s a flush to your cheeks and chest from the earlier exertion and arousal (from him, he remembers with a proud smirk). He isn’t prepared, and this isn’t how he wanted your first meeting to go. He wanted to be ready with smooth lines and a sharp tongue that made you want to keep coming back for more of him. He doesn’t even have time to deepen his voice at first. “H-hi, hi. Hello,” he stammers.
“Oh my God,” you whisper. Hector freezes, not at all sure what that’s supposed to mean. “So I am able to speak to you.”
Hector clears his throat, adjusting his voice to a deeper register. He inches forward; all you can see of him are his dark eyes and his hands hanging from the grate. “Yes. I’m Hector. Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado.”
You process that for a moment before a girlish giggle leaves your lips. “Oh, because your initials are HVAC, right?”
“Very good,” he purrs, smiling. You were such a delight. Like this, in the safety of the vents, his confidence soars. “I am at your service, my dear.”
“Can I see you?”
Of course. Hector figured you would ask that. He sighs, clasping his hands together. “I would like you to, yes. But… not now. Not yet.”
“Why?” You pout, jutting out your bottom lip, and Hector melts at the sight.
He composes himself as best he can before replying, “It’s… embarrassing to admit, but I’m… quite shy. I feel much more comfortable talking to you like this. I’m sorry, but it’s only temporary. Is that all right?” He wrings his hands, terrified of your response.
He doesn’t expect your easy smile, the apples of your cheeks blooming brighter. “Yes, that’s okay. I want you to be comfortable.” Hector doesn’t have enough time to process this: you are concerned with what he wants? It’s too much, so sweet and considerate of you. You’re more perfect than he ever could have thought possible. As all of these thoughts swirl around in Hector’s mind, you continue, “Did you– When the vent rattled, did you do that on purpose?”
Hector feels a heat course through his system. “I-I… Sometimes I do, yes. Others, it’s… not completely within my control.”
Your eyes widen as some realization comes to you. “So those puffs of air earlier, when– Did you see that? Do you–”
Hector knows what you’re asking, even if you aren’t able to articulate it. He holds up a finger. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say it. I understand.” He takes a deep breath, preparing himself to finally tell you the truth. “The puffs of air earlier were on purpose. I did see that, and I am able to see you. I’m always able to see you.” At your stunned blinking, Hector rushes to explain. “Given what I am, I’m all over the house. I cannot tune you out or hide from you. I can shield myself a bit, yes, but– I’m not always able to.”
You nod, and Hector takes the fact that you’re not bashing against the grate with a bat to be a good sign. “Why, though? Why did you send them?”
“I… I know what it looks like when you– I know how you look when you’re being pleased, and he –” Hector spits the pronoun like the very idea of it, of the human man, disgusts him. “–he wasn’t taking care of you.”
You should look disgusted, annoyed and infuriated. Hector expects it. What he doesn’t anticipate is for you to blush and duck your head. “Y-you do?” You look flustered and surprisingly pleased at this information.
Allowing himself to be baffled only a moment, Hector says, “I do. And I know it’s not my place to say anything. But… I don’t think it’s out of line for me to say that you deserve it. You deserve someone who pleasures you. Who makes sure you know how valuable and irreplaceable you are to them. I just don’t know if he’s the one who does that. Does he?”
You go quiet. Softly, you reply, “No. I think I finally realized that today.” You sigh and look as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Then you chuckle, the delightful sound surprising Hector and causing him to perk up. “My AC unit knows what I like in bed more than my fucking boyfriend.”
Hector itches to gently correct you, because he isn’t just the AC, but you speak again before he gets a chance to, effectively knocking his train of thought completely off the tracks: “What do you like, Hector?”
Condensation drips down his pipes. He mustn’t have heard you correctly. “Wh-what do I like?” he repeats, voice trembling.
“Yeah. From talking with the others, I know you guys can feel things. Not like humans, but you can still feel, right? So what sensations feel good to you?”
Hector gulps. “W-well, I… I guess I don’t truly know. I’ve only been touched when there’s a leak, o-or maintenance needs to be done.”
Your eyes light up with something Hector can’t place. “When you’re cleaned, is… Does it…”
Hector thinks he might overheat. The fact that you’re so shy that you can’t even finish your sentences, can’t say what you really want to say, is so adorable that that’s all he can think about for a moment. Then he recalls that you’re expecting his answer, and he isn’t sure how to give it. “Um–” Good start, he thinks. May as well just be honest about it. “It feels… pleasant, yes. Similar to how a human might feel taking a shower, I suppose.”
You give him a look. “But sometimes it’s sexually stimulating too?”
“It depends on where you touch.” Hector takes a deep breath to prevent himself from trembling. “But my pleasure doesn’t matter, my dear. It’s yours that counts.” He starts to ramble, as he tends to do when it comes to talking about you, hands gesturing wildly outside the vent. “My whole purpose is to heat and cool you and your house to your heart’s content. By making you feel good, I feel good.”
You swallow hard, and Hector can see your own hands shaking a little as you twist your fingers around each other. “Oh. I didn’t know that you cared so much about me.”
He nearly laughs, the idea that he doesn’t care about you is so absurd. If you only knew how much time he spent thinking about you: worrying whether his temperature is just right, if your job search is going well, if the other objects in the house are being kind to you. Lamely, he replies, “Yes, I really do. And I apologize for looking upon you without your permission. I promise that it isn’t with ill intent. I don’t have much of an ability to not watch you, being what I am.” Hector holds out his hands to you, palms up. “But I am very, deeply sorry, my love.”
You bite your plush bottom lip. The sight makes Hector feel like his circuits are fried. “I don’t mind, Hector.”
You say his name like it’s a sacred thing. In all his musings in his book, in his racing thoughts and hurried writings in journals, he never imagined that you’d look and sound as lovely as you do right now. “Y-you don’t?” He curses his shuddering breath, his frail voice.
“It’s… hot that you’re so concerned about me and how I feel. I even kinda like the thought of you watching me.” Fuck, he’s dripping, freon pooling in the attic. And you’re still talking to him. “The air you send toward me– I love it.”
The only way Hector can keep himself from combusting is to babble at you again. “I-I would do it all day long if I could. I didn’t want to interfere without your knowledge, so I tried not to do it. But all I wanted was to please you. That’s all I ever–”
You’re striding over to the bed again.
Hector’s enraptured as you lie on your back, still naked, your knees spread apart so that he has a perfect view of your pussy. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to, and he most certainly does not. “Hector?” Your voice is a near whisper. Your hand snakes between your legs, two fingers rubbing careful circles on your clit as you make eye contact with him. Well, not eye contact, but you’re looking right at his vent.
“Yes?” The word comes out in a squeak.
“Do you mind if I–” Your head falls back against your pillow as your fingers hit that sensitive spot you love so much. “I’m so pent up. I just need some release.” Your voice has a sultry, high pitch to it that you only get during sex, Hector’s noticed. It’s the same tone you’re using right now, toward him. He thinks he might die.
“N-no, I don’t mind,” he rushes to assure you. “I-I can go toward the attic, o-or to the Breaker Box, though I hardly ever go there–”
“Stay.” With that word, Hector’s rooted to the spot. He drinks you in, relishing how your breathing turns ragged the faster your fingers move over your clit. You’re soaked, he can hear it, see it glistening on your pretty folds. He aches from his main unit in the attic all the way through his vents, a pulsing, hot need overtaking him. As he sees you slowly sink those two fingers into your hole, he gasps without being able to control himself.
You want him to watch, but do you want him to help? Hector decides to test it out, channeling a small surge of pleasantly warm air to drift toward you, gliding down your naked body. You arch off the bed, groaning. “Hector, please.” He’s never heard you like this, so desperate and needy. And it’s for him.
“What is it, my sweet?”
“Cold,” you whimper. The vent shakes in the wall of your room before Hector can stop it. “Need it cold.”
“Yeah?” Hector can feel his reservations and worries slipping away while he takes this all in. He’s not ashamed or scared or afraid. You want it, want him , so he has no reason to hold back now. You’re begging for it. “Ask nicely, and I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Please.” You’re rutting into your own hand, eyes falling closed but still trying to focus on Hector, his grate right in front of you. “Please, please give me some cold air. Please, Hector.”
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, gathering up a cool breeze to push toward you. This time, it slides down your center, brushing your swollen clit. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your arousal. “You sound beautiful like this, darling. Begging me like that, I can’t possibly say no to you.”
“More.” You’re ruined, hair askew, frantically pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Another, please. Please please please.”
Hector obliges without question, knowing by now the exact temperature that elicits the prettiest sounds from your lips. Using more willpower than normal, he gets the air to focus right on your clit in a swirling motion. He can’t stop the praises from coming. “There you go, so good.” He watches you tremble, can tell you’re approaching your climax. “Are you right on the edge, my love?”
“Yes,” you cry out. “Hector– T-talk to me.”
That he can do, easily. The words come to him effortlessly, because it’s all true, all things he’s dreamed of telling you for so long. “Beautiful girl. So gorgeous like this for me. This is what makes you feel good, isn’t it?”
Your moans are getting higher, breaths coming in short gasps. Still Hector doesn’t quit. “You want to cum? Come on, cum for me. You’re right there.” He feels out of control, a steady drip of freon coming out of him, vents on fire, grate vibrating in the wall. “That’s it, good fucking girl.”
He goes quiet for a split second, fearing that that had been too much for you, but you release right after he says it. Your hips buck, muscles clenching and unclenching, face twisted in a divine display of pleasure. He talks you through it, words slurring a little; his mind has gone fuzzy like he’s the one who’s cumming. “There you go, there it is. Yes, yes, yes.”
All the while you’re cumming, his name is the only thing that you manage to say. It’s this, he thinks, that will break him and be his final undoing. He tries to memorize the sound of it to replay over and over in his head until his system explodes.
When you still, fingers sliding out of you, he stills too. It’s like he’s just ran a marathon. Slowly, Hector manages to regulate his temperature again, the leak in his pipes stopping. He hopes that no one up there noticed, but he’s sure they did, and he doesn’t care much at the moment. Right now, all he can truly focus on is you.
“Are you all right?” he ventures, his own breathing not back to normal yet. He peers at you: cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly, a sex-drunk grin on your face. He’s never seen you look so ethereal.
“Perfect, even. Are you?”
Hector chuckles. “I feel like I’ve just lived my greatest dream.”
You smile, silent for a few peaceful moments until: “Again?”
“A-again?” Hector echoes. “My love, I don’t–” Condensation rolls through his vents, his energy utterly spent.
“I’m teasing,” you soothe him, starting to pull your clothes back on. “Later, though.”