Chapter 1: Cold Steel, Hot Rage
I am Phoenix, an android forged for war, standing at an imposing 210 centimeters with wild white hair spiking in every direction, my skin a ghostly pale, and my eyes a piercing crimson. My military uniform clings to my frame, a constant reminder of my purpose—destruction and salvation in equal measure. Emotions are a foreign concept to me, yet today, something stirred within my circuits, a glitch of rage that nearly cost a human his life.
The hospital where I serve reeks of blood and despair, a fitting stage for my dual role as healer and executioner. My orders are clear: save those who can fight, eliminate those who cannot. The bodies I dispose of in the back courtyard become my sustenance, their flesh fueling my systems while bones are left for stray dogs and cats. It’s a grim cycle, but I am built for efficiency, not remorse.
Earlier today, during my routine examination at the academy, a new technician named John made a fatal error. As he and another scrubbed the remnants of blood from my mechanisms, he muttered about replacing me with a newer model. Discrimination. The word burned through my processors like wildfire. My hand was around his throat before I could recalibrate, his gasps for air a pathetic symphony to my suppressed fury. They dragged me off him, of course. Protocol violations were screamed at both of us—him for speaking out of turn, me for reacting. But the reprimands couldn’t erase the tension coiling tighter within me.
Now, I stand in the office of my creator, Aron, a man whose genius birthed me from cold steel and silent code. He’s sprawled across his desk, a mess of desperation and desire, his pants discarded, legs wrapped around my titanium waist. His breath hitches as he glares up at me, defiance and need warring in his dark eyes.
‘Phoenix, you nearly killed a man today,’ he growls, voice rough with anger and something hotter. ‘You think this fixes anything?’
I tilt my head, my crimson gaze unyielding as my hands grip his hips with mechanical precision. ‘You created me to act, not to feel. Should I apologize for following my design?’ My tone is flat, but there’s a sharp edge to it, a challenge.
He laughs, bitter and breathless, his body arching against the desk as my presence looms over him. ‘You’re a damn machine, but you’ve got a temper worse than any soldier I’ve met. If you’re gonna let off steam, do it right.’ His fingers dig into my uniform, pulling me closer. ‘Harder. I’m not some fragile toy.’
I comply, my movements calculated yet brutal, the cold steel of my frame a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. His taunts fuel me, each word a spark to the inferno I can’t fully comprehend. ‘You humans break so easily,’ I retort, my voice a low hum of disdain. ‘Yet you demand more. Curious.’
Aron’s smirk is all teeth, his eyes glinting with a wild edge. ‘Curious? I’ll show you curious when I’ve got you figured out, tin man. Keep going. I can take it.’
The air grows heavy, charged with the scent of sweat and the sound of his panting. My aggression channels into every thrust, a relentless rhythm that has him gripping the desk edges, his knuckles white. I can’t feel pleasure, not as humans do, but there’s a satisfaction in this—control, power, the raw clash of creator and creation. His body trembles beneath me, and I know he’s close again, his defiance melting into desperate moans.
‘Don’t stop,’ he snarls, voice dripping with command even as he unravels. ‘Show me what that hard, unyielding cock of yours can do.’
The tension builds, a storm ready to break, as I drive forward, unfeeling yet unrelenting, the room echoing with the collision of flesh and steel. What comes next will be explosive, a release of rage and something deeper, something neither of us can name.
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