A Casual Conversation

[robotdick]

[It turns out, to Nick's chagrin, that programming a whole new VR sensory interface isn't quite as easy as hacking into a high security terminal. It requires a wealth of creative thinking that Nick, in particular, doesn't excel at. Ever since the conversation came up, though, Nick's has had the idea of trying out a new body mod, and maybe doubling each other for the fun of it, taking up considerable real-estate in the back of his head.

Surprisingly, though, after enlisting Dr. Amari to assist him with bits of the programming, Nick's interest in this little project shifted a bit to the left. Sure, he wanted to indulge in new sensation, wanted to see what it was like to be human, to play catcher, to maybe have a duplicate self (or partner) available, but the deeper he got into the code, the more other aspects started to shine.

To get duplicates working, for instance, required being able to clone perception. Nick could do that, given how he had backup files of himself on hand, but how was he supposed to do that with a human? Amari could give him baselines for real living people so Nick could blend the experience for himself, but...could he run a human through the opposite? Filter them through his experience? Turned out, accomplishing both of those was about the same level of pain in the ass and Nick, well, he was intrigued.

Hancock had waded through his busted old memories like he was walking in the park, had rolled through synth perception like he was taking in a lightshow. Nick was sure he could handle this--it wasn't going to be as deep or foundational, not as abstract, and that ought to make it easier, right?

It would be...very different. Hancock would probably agree to do it, both because he was usually game for radical shifts in mental faculties and...because it would be Nick doing the asking.

Nick wasn't sure, however, that he should ask.

Nick, well, he wasn't exactly the best gague of what was and was not addictive. He hadn't even had an ID to assuage until pretty recently, but even before he'd had an ID, he'd gotten hooked on the rush of crashing. After a hundred years without more than the stray dance here and there, Hancock had him utterly invested, enough that he'd already gotten one body mod and was eyeing a second. It was a little self-absorbed to think that his experience was so superior, but Nick practically ran on worry. What if his own climax actually was that much more of an endorphin hit? It could be risky business running someone else through that, especially someone with an addictive personality.

Although, by that same token, it could be risky running himself through an accurate template of the organic perception. Not just running through the vague amalgam of records on hand, but through a modern, accurate set of guidelines. That...could be complicated...but Nick was designed to absorb templates, to install and remove stuff like that. That gave him a leg up...right?

He was still mulling over the ethical concerns in this whole shindig when he finally finished the coding suite. Once he had, Nick came to the conclusion that, ultimately, the decision about whether Hancock should or should not do something wasn't his to make. Just because it was an option on the menu didn't mean he'd choose to use it, and even if he did port his perception through Nick's experience, Hancock was a better judge of what he could handle than Nick could ever be. Hancock trusted him to tap out if it was too much and Nick just had to do the same.

He was relieved to settle the unexpected, impromptu ethical dilema so easily. Unfortunately, Nick was still stuck with another material complication. How in the hell did he just...bring this up in casual conversation?]

How is it that I manage to get a call for every runaway pet in the wasteland?

[Nick is exhausted (insofar as he can be). The last few errands they'd run (routing a few raiders, delivering a package, rescuing a cat from a tree and returning it to its owner) had been unusually grueling. The first rule of the wasteland was a constant, they got sidetracked every few steps, but the sidetracking didn't usually lead to more sidetracking. As is, Nick is glad to see Goodneighbor in the distance.

He's even more glad that he no longer has to carry a livid pampered house-cat through supermutant territory.]

Comments

HOW DID THIS TAG ESCAPE ME WTF */ROLLS*

[chem_break]

[ The way Nick tries so hard, so heartfully to obey whilst otherwise drowning in the adoring voracious onslaught hits Hancock through the heart like a cupid's arrow; the effort is valiant despite the hedonistic havoc being wrought upon him and Hancock thinks, from one corner of his psyche to the other, that he could watch Nick like this until his eyes gave out. He's so stunning unlaced, unlacing. Hancock has a whole extra pair of hands at his disposal but he can barely fathom to use them with enough dexterity to snap a photo. Firefly has chains in one grasp and the back of Nick's knee in another-- Blondie has one hand on his paramour's face, the other between his legs-- and everything is too perfect to conceive of letting go.

Especially when Nick's tremors relapse and his voice spikes into a second jagged crescendo; when the pressure around their constricted dicks wrings tight and claws a few more mewling shocks of bliss out of them. Bonus points, and he wasn't even trying! Good to know that's something he can aim for, whenever they endeavor to hop into the VR suite together. If he's not trying to top his own high score, what's even the point of videogames?

A pair of panting prideful chuckles prowl around either side of Nick's skull; obviously, his complaints are dearly appreciated. It's easier for Firefly to melt against the edge of the tub, but the youngest aspect has to do a bit of shuffling before imminent collapse; his hiss wavers into a groan as (with a little lifting of Nick's knees, accommodated by his stronger self) he pulls free from the skin-tight sleeve of Nick's insides and crumples like crushed origami next to his fiancé and himself. ]

See, I know I did a good job when ya pull out the first name. Only sounds good when you're the one sayin' it, know that?

[ He's vaguely aware they they should change the water now. Firefly lazily stretches a foot through the water, toes groping blind for the plug; the reach is not happening, but a half-assed attempt is being made, sluggishly jostling Nick inside his lap. ]

Hold on, you're not tryin' to make a softie outta me, are ya? -Couldn't- have that...

[ All clumsy half-drunk affection, Firefly sways forward and kisses the raw ruddy bite he'd left on Nick's shoulder. ]

Tch... you want him muzzled next time, just say so

LMAO it happens to the best of us.

[robotdick]

[If Nick had the wherewithal to figure out why Firefly was jostling him, he'd be amused that it was an effort to change digital water. Nick's the sucker for real world accuracy, of course, but Hancock sure plays along convincingly. As is, that kiss against his shoulder smarts fiercely without the background radiation of pleasure to prop it up. Nick grimaces and sucks in a tight breath.]

Who's to say I won't be doing the muzzling? [It's only half sensical. Nick's brainfried attempt at sass. A few seconds later he just chuckles and lets his head fall against one or the other of them, he's not sure anymore and his eyes are heavy as hell. It's far easier to just close them.]

I can't wait to see if the synth program works.

[And that sounds much more like a threat than the actual attempt at one. Still, his face is dreamily happy, if exhausted. Hancock has all of Nick's sympathies for his own sluggishness after they dance. Nick's running on nothing. It's going to be jarring as hell to be back in himself and the thought tinges his overwhelming afterglow with something a little darker than a smarting shoulder.]

Hey--uh, you mind being...just you for a while?

[chem_break]

[ The Realism is on point in this whole experience, right down to convincing the ghoul, with his thoughts still shambling drunkenly into order, that the only way to clean up this mess is to physically do it, walk through the motions like they're all real; there's probably a command prompt, sure. Clean_sexmess.exe? But Hancock is still fully committed to engaging every part of this fantasy-- until it occurs to him (along Nick's reply) that it isn't strictly necessary.

His thoughts sluggishly bounce about teasing Nick over his first and failed attempt in the bathtub to rein Firefly by his own chains-- and then reel onto a new canvas to start imagining all the possibilities of porting himself into Nick's synth senses--

But the third thing Nick says wins topmost priority and he endeavors to address that first. ]

Yeah, sure-- a Decent While, even. Ain't like your askin for somethin that don't come natural to me

Yeah, yeah, brother's startin' to miss the Good Looks anyway... So how do we...?

[ Grand ghoulish arms close around Nick (where did the chains go? Cognitive Magic-- it's a thing) and effortlessly detangle them. A sage silk hiss leaves it at the moment their bodies disconnect and a blonde brow twitches in quiet betrayal that they are still feeling everything at once.

Neither of them get to finish the question, because the soft neon lines of mood-light etched into walls glow a little brighter around the bathroom mirror. ]

Huh... Intuitive

[ Since this much is familiar to him, it takes a mere moment for (the pair of) him to hop out of the tub, tap the glass (together) and scroll to the appropriate reflection. It doesn't even feel too bizarre to be pieced back together in one stream of consciousness-- though for a second, his mind keeps looking for other 'comic panels' that don't exist. His vision blurs for a heartbeat and it feels fiercely proper when his own hands lift to scrub at his eyes. Not smooth and human, not green and radiant, just his (declared) original mint, gloriously ghoulishly himself. ]

...Aw hell, weren't we supposed to be hashing out wedding details? What'd ya let me go and distract ya like that for? [ Black eyes glittering, grin all fondness and adoring mischief. ]

[robotdick]

[There's a flurry of shuffling, insofar as Nick's exhausted self can track it, and he's left alone in the tub. He pulls the plug on it and shifts to sit on the ledge. He can see himself in the background as Hancock switches back to a solo mode, adopting the classic visage.

He looks like absolute hell, but he's still got that lopsided half-smile on.

Hancock chides him for derailing wedding planning and Nick can't help but bark out a laugh. Then a grimace--because, oof, turns out being sore makes laughing into a real pain.]

Always knew I was a bad influence.

[Finally, Nick drags himself up out of the bathtub. He hadn't noticed, not until taking a step onto the tile, that his feet were all pruned up. It's weirdly novel and, when he pulls up the command prompt for fix_sexmess.exe, he omits that shining detail along with all the glorious aches, pains, and bite-marks.

Now that he's dry and largely clean, Nick ambles over to the mirror and drapes his arms over Hancock's shoulders. He's rarely this forward, or touchy, but it's a good look on the human him.]

Got one more thing I'd like to do first, if you're interested?

[chem_break]

[ John Hancock makes Hell look good, and Hell should consider it a favor.

And dear-damn does Nick's laugh ever sound hot all banged up with the typical aches of flesh biology. It's a stark contrast to how the synth always boots up so peppy-- and what will that feel like, exactly, when Hancock tries it himself? ]

Repressed guys are always Freaks in the Sheets, like a law of the universe or somethin'

[ Hancock agrees conversationally, feeling the odd alchemy of himself flow back together along every natural confliction; hazy-happy, sated-sleepy, and hazardous-hunger, roused by the barest whiff of a meal. A beast with no physical capacity for true satisfaction. But cleaved between exactly these two creatures is where John Hancock makes himself home. ]

For you? Might need a hit or a shot and five minutes, but yeah. There an itch I ain't scratched for ya yet, Sunshine? [ He briefly runs through his thoughts for appropriate organic enjoyments. ] You wanna massage? A hot drink? How 'bout splittin'a spliff?

[ He all but melts into the presence of his paramour behind him; his heads rests on Nick's shoulder and his grin goes merry and besotted, even with his eyes closed. ]

I'm all ears... sans ears actually, but you get my drift

[robotdick]

[When Nick paused for a second there, mid-basking in the afterglow of all that debauchery, what hit him most was that this is all just a hypothetical. It's an experience tailored through other experiences, which is fine by him, but it means that the simple things are never going to end up part of the memory. As evidenced by everything around them, Nick's a huge fan of simple things.

Which is why he's got just one more request before they log out.]

Sleep with me?

[It sounds so ridiculous considering how fucked out he looks, but he means it. This is just about the only place where he'll get to fall asleep with Hancock. He'd like to try it once.]

[chem_break]

Here I thought ya were gunna ask for something challenging. That much I can manage with my eyes closed

[ He's going to blame that pun on all the endorphins-- and he's superficially disappointed in himself for not thinking of as much first. As far as pleasant organic experiences go, sleep is a damn good one. Especially when it's going to be in their bed, something Nick has technically never done before. Makes sense why Nick wouldn't offer to slip on his original skin if he wants to try something it technically can't do.

He twists and twines his bare arms around either side of Nick's ribs, giving him a brief but bear-like squeeze before detangling himself just as quick, grasp retrieved all but for Hancock's fingers around his fiancé's wrist. ]

Come on then, spoilin' me over here. Gettin' pillow talk with actual pillows. Sky's the limit with you huh, Slick? Ain't nothin' my man can't do

[ Is he laying it on kind of thick? But does Nick also deserve that and the moon? Yes and hell to the yes. It's mostly muscle memory that takes them around the few short corners to the bedroom, and the feeling is not unlike an uncanny lucid dream. ]

I'll even let ya have the better pillow, since this is your first time an' all

[robotdick]

[Nick can feel hugs as himself, but like most things it's a whole different ballpark in human skin. There's something warm and reassuring about it in this body, even if it doesn't feel like stardust dancing across his skin in the shape of Hancock. He's still pondering that difference when he's pulling him along, damn near eager to take a nap.

Nick's small smile becomes a bright grin with his amusement before they've even left the bathroom.]

There's a better pillow?

[Nick had no idea. That's probably not a detail he managed to capture, but hopefully he cloned the good pillow and not one of the less than.

It's still chilly in the rest of the apartment, the A/C left running in the background. When they get to the bed, Hancock still leading him while mostly walking backwards, Nick's exhaustion is really seeping in. He hadn't considered wearing anything to bed and, frankly, he's not going to start now. The only thing he does really want to try is something Hancock rarely bothers with--when they hit the bedside, Nick bends to pull back the duvet and the topsheet first.

If he only gets to snuggle like a human in here, he's going to pull that whole downy blanket around them like a cocoon.]

[chem_break]

Uh-huh, ya can tell on account of the tiny circular singe marks-- unless I remembered to keep the pillow turned, and ya haven't noticed yet

[ of course Hancock would burn his favorite pillow-- nothing he puts his hands on stays mint condition for long. Do details outside of Nick's perception get logged? Did Snow input some perception on the fly? And what exactly can their handy AI butler sense, come to think of it? Hancock does not have enough brain power to tackle the issue right now, especially since he's mostly concerned with popping Nick's nap cherry (and making sure, if it exists, that he gets the superior pillow).

A small shiver runs through him along the short trek to the bedroom; he's not nearly as warm as his most carnal self, but he's not so soft-skinned as his human print, either. The cold lingers on the outside of his tough hide, enough that he's glad for Nick's foresight to sweep back the duvet. ]

Hey, good thinkin'

[ He crows in breezy agreement, seeming to stand just as tall as usual, sans his boots; this isn't a trick of Firefly's, it's all comfortable bravado and lived in allure; a man perfectly in his element, ready to gorge another feast for his sins, even though sloth is typically the least spoiled. Everything is better when he gets to share it with Nick, they are gunna slay and bury this nap.

Hancock crawls onto the sheets (though they do feel a little flat without the cushy duvet underneath) and inspects the pillows-- both of which feature small circular burns on the left bottom corner. So they're both the best pillow? How does that track? Whatever-- he gives them each a decent friendly thwack, getting them nice and fluffed. ]

You feelin for first spoon or second? Or is that little fiddle or big one? Fuckin hell, think I'm too spent keep my euphemisms straight...

[robotdick]

[Hancock climbs in and thwacks the pillows and Nick, perched on the edge of the bed, can't help but watch him with an impossible, besotted fondness. It shows up differently on this face, easier to read, but no less or greater than his usual look. Nick climbs in a little awkwardly at first, but he's definitely got it in his head how he wants this.]

What, and give up looking at your handsome mug?

[He's not even being the slightest bit sarcastic. He pulls Hancock in chest to chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and carding their legs together. It's an absolute clinging mess, a jumble of limbs, but Nick couldn't be happier with it, especially once they're both sharing the good pillow(s).

But damned if laying down doesn't immediately hit him hard. There's just something about being horizontal with a pillow under your head that makes a guy groggy as hell. Still, it feels like all the little aches and pains, the soreness and the bite marks, are all soothed away by the warming sheets or being cuddled close to his fiancee.]

Oh--gotta say, this is already looking like a good choice.

[Sleep, he means. But also this whole VR adventure.]

[chem_break]

Hey, there's a limit to everyone's masochism, don't wanna go and assume yours

[ Size differences are fun to entertain in the VR realm, but the way they fit together, while closer in stature, is no small pleasure either. Hancock is exceptionally pleased to be wrapped up in every limb Nick has available. One of his arms snakes between Nick's ribs and the sheets while his knees lock into the affectionate entanglement, clinging with wavering strength.

At first he tucks his head underneath Nick's jaw to be an imp-- no sights of gorgeous ghoulishness for you, Nick!-- but a curious sound catches his attention and causes him to shift, sinking half an inch and pressing his Not-an-ear to the middle of Nick's chest. After a second, Hancock's fingers start tapping the steady thrum of Nick's heartbeat against his chest. ]

What can I say? My faience's a damn genius, I got it too good. Almost, almost makes me feel bad for derailing the wedding planning. Quick, decide somethin' before we nod off-- sushi, or a seafood boil?

[robotdick]

Can't hear you, I'm sleeping.

[Nick answers, deftly avoiding the question by closing his eyes and heaving a comfortable sigh. To prove just how much he's sleeping, Nick moves an arm to hold his head against his chest. Obviously only a sleeping person would pin their fiancee in an awkward position with the blankets pulled up to his nonexistant ears.

Honestly, though, Nick's unbelievably happy that this worked,and that he got to experience it all with Hancock. Hell, even if it hadn't worked, just the second half would have been enough to content him. With genuine sleep in his voice, Nick adds a mumbled:]

Love you.