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Lionel stroked Harold's hair, pleased by the spiky strands popping back up between his fingers. Harold was lying across the couch at Lionel's place, his head in Lionel's lap. It had been Lionel's turn to pick where they had dinner, Egyptian food in Astoria, then back home with a bottle of wine.
Harold had removed his jacket and tie and Lionel was stroking his chest where he'd unbuttoned. "So you wanna be my robot?" Lionel said, playfully. "I'd give you a maintenance check, make sure you're running at peak efficiency."
Harold gave a lopsided smile and looked up at Lionel. "It's an appealing idea. Would you need specialized tools?"
"Nah, got all I need right here." He fished his phone out of his pocket and set it at Harold's breastbone. "This'll read your onboard diagnostic codes." He tapped at the screen until it made a quick series of blips. "Just relax, I'll take care of you."
He rubbed his thumb behind Harold's ear. "Mmmm, you're a good model, very reliable." He stroked a hand down Harold's side. "No current recall notices. You been having any problems?"
Harold shrugged. "A limp. And I worry a lot."
"Eh, you can expect that. You're holding up great, given how hard you work." He gave Harold's hip a squeeze, pressing two fingers down hard where he knew the muscles knotted up from avoiding that leg. He kept pressing until he felt the tension there release while Harold hissed between his teeth.
"Air filtration system's looking good." He booped Harold's nose with a fingertip and trailed down to slide across his lips. Harold kissed it and sucked the finger into his mouth. Lionel closed his eyes for a long moment, then came back to himself with a wry grin. "Fluid levels are good."
"Alright, now for fine motor skills-- could you unbutton your shirt the rest of the way?" His eyes followed Harold's fingers and then took in the expanse of his chest as he pushed the shirt open and off of his shoulders.
"Breathe in. And let it go. Good, good." Lionel's own breath was less even, but his voice remained low and soothing. He pulled Harold's hand into his own. "Squeeze my hand. Good job." His other hand spread across Harold's midsection. "Spare tire's in good shape." Harold swatted Lionel's hand from his belly but smiled as he blushed.
"Now I'll check your robo-neuro-systems. Close your eyes." He kept hold of Harold's hand and squeezed Harold's biceps. "Think of the smell of cut grass. Very good." He ran a finger along Harold's collarbones. "Think of the taste of marshmallows. Ah, perfect. Now stinky cheese. Uh huh. Now a sardine sandwich on wheat toast with mustard." Harold chuckled. "Very good. You can open your eyes."
"Now your robo-emotiono-systems." He put his hand over Harold's heart. "Think about all of the people you care for. Mmm. Now, all of the people who care for you. Nice. Your heart is very healthy. Very strong."
Lionel picked up his phone and held it far enough away to see without his reading glasses. "Everything's in perfect working order. You're perfect. Just..." He set his phone aside and looked at Harold, stroking his cheek with a thumb, his hands cradling his head. He whispered, "perfect."
Harold leaned up and looked intently into Lionel's eyes. "Kiss me?"
"I'm sure it's incredibly unethical," he kissed Harold tenderly, "taking advantage of an innocent robot." Harold gripped Lionel's shoulders, pulled himself up, and less-than-innocently pushed his tongue into Lionel's mouth and kissed him deeply. Lionel slid his palms under the back of Harold's shirt, pulling him close to his chest and moaned softly into his mouth.
Harold broke the kiss first, kissing and licking his way down Lionel's neck and pulling his shirt out of his jeans and up and over his head. He pressed their chests together, loving the feeling of skin on skin and kissed into Lionel's neck, hard. Lionel lost any kind of focus he'd had, arched into Harold and whimpered, his lower lip pressed between his teeth. Harold moved his mouth to Lionel's ear and whispered urgently, "Bed."
The word seemed to take a moment to penetrate, but when it did, Lionel half-hustled, half-carried Harold into the bedroom and dropped him to the bed. He quickly pulled his shoes and socks off and pulled the button fly of his jeans open in one quick motion. His cock was hard, blatantly hard and pressing heavily against the fabric of his shorts. Harold tried and failed in not staring hungrily.
Lionel set to peeling Harold's clothes off, careful of both the clothes and the man, but intent, purposeful, and quick. Harold stretched himself out long and nearly purred as Lionel pressed his hot bulk onto him, thick furred chest, broad muscular shoulders, glorious thighs straining the fabric of his jeans as they straddled Harold's legs, his thick cock still trapped in cotton but its heat and wet pressing into his bare skin. Harold might have been a few inches taller, but Lionel was bigger in every other way, big in a way that made Harold want to climb him, cling to him, be pulled into him.
Lionel wrapped his arms around Harold and rolled the two of them over until Harold was on top. He slid his hands down and gripped Harold's ass while they kissed. Lionel knew he'd want more eventually, but right now this was perfect, he could kiss Harold like this for hours.
Harold reached behind himself and guided one of Lionel's hands up to his mouth. He broke their kiss and held Lionel's gaze while he drew his middle finger into his mouth and sucked. Then he moved the hand back to his ass. Lionel started teasing the finger along the rim of Harold's ass and kissed him deep again. It was a sweet, slow, and comfortable. A while later, though, Harold did lean over and grab a bottle of lube and demand "More." Lionel slid a slicked-up finger into Harold, who rocked back onto it in slow rhythm, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy.
"You're fucking gorgeous," Lionel said huskily, "you make me crazy. I wanna give you everything. Everything."
Harold opened his eyes and whispered, "More."
Lionel pushed a second finger in, slowly, making Harold huff and whimper, his face and neck going darker as he pressed into the crook of Lionel's neck.
"Oh, baby, oh baby, you're the best. I love it when we fuck." The last word was breathed right in Harold's ear, making him shiver and bringing up goosebumps along his spine. He dug his fingers into Lionel's sides.
"I need..." Harold gasped, "I need your cock. I need it now." Harold pressed his hands into the bed to lever himself up enough to kneel and yank Lionel's jeans and underwear below his hips. He squeezed a generous glob of lube onto Lionel's cock. Lionel's thick, hard, deep red at the head, dripping luscious cock. Harold straddled Lionel's belly and eased himself back slowly, guiding the head into himself and pulling his knees wide and his thighs close to his chest.
Now Lionel was red faced, red down to his chest, his head thrown back, eyes shut tight, moaning as Harold's heat enveloped him. He bunched the sheets into his fists, doing all he could to stay still, to let Harold control the pace, going out of his mind in the slow slide. He regained just a sliver of composure once Harold was pressed as far as he could go and slid a hand between them to stroke his fingers lightly along Harold's cock.
That composure vanished as soon as Harold started thrusting and he held on to Harold and the bed as hard as he could. His world narrowed to the points of joining. He dug his heels into the mattress until his legs trembled.
Harold loved to watch Lionel come, to see him lose all control, lost in raptures, lost in his body, lost in their bodies together. Lionel would call him baby, sweetie, darling, a million silly things that Harold treasured. When he tumbled over the edge himself he could say everything that seemed too hard to say any other time. Either Lionel didn't hear or didn't mention it later.
They stayed tangled together for a long time, kissing, skin cooling. Lionel kicked his jeans off and shivered through a hundred tiny aftershocks.
After Harold drifted off, Lionel whispered, "Love you, too, sweetie."