You know it's hard to keep the fighting clean / Skib Zone

You and Cygnus had planned to hang out together after Cygnus returned from their mission. To your delight, they'd messaged you a few hours earlier than expected, telling you that their mission had been a great success and they had been able to wrap it up already. You feel so relieved and in good cheer on behalf of your friend - Cygnus's last mission had gone badly, and this must have been a great confidence-booster for them.

"Get over here, buddy," you message your TV-headed friend. "Your favourite human wants hugs and chat." You'd been looking forward to spending time with Cygnus, whose high status within their faction keeps them busier with work than either of you would like. And now you get several bonus hours with them!

Cygnus spawns in your quarters. (They would describe it as 'porting', but you like to refer to it as 'spawning in', to Cygnus's eternal mild annoyance.) Cygnus moves in to hug you - you hold up a hand to stop them, and try not to laugh at how crestfallen they look at your refusal.

"You're covered in all brick dust and spiderwebs or something," you explain, "Let me find a clothes brush." You retrieve the brush and hand it to Cygnus, saying: "Have a go on that, while I make myself some coffee."

You hear Cygnus brushing away from the other room while you prepare your caffeinated treat. You return with it - "Let me brush your back," you suggest as you set your coffee down on a table. "By the time I've done that, my coffee will be cool enough to drink."

While you brush Cygnus's back, they comment: "I've never understood that. You can't drink it until it's cooled down - why not prepare it with cooler water to begin with?"

"That wouldn't taste as nice. You've got to use very hot water to release all the flavour. But not all the way boiling, or that'll scald the coffee. That tastes bad too."

"I don't know whether to be disappointed that I'm missing out on such a sensory dimension, or glad I don't have to bother with it. The things you have to do to get some energy."

"Coffee doesn't give energy, technically. It feels as though it does. It's actually just toxic enough that my body wants to get rid of it as fast as possible, and the energy burst I feel is my body's own adrenalin doing that."

"I can't imagine having an opinion about the taste of poison."

"Tasty poison going in my face now." You finish brushing Cygnus's back and swap the brush for your cup of coffee, before joining Cygnus in sitting on the sofa.

The two of you chat about Cygnus's mission while you drink your coffee. "I got to use one of the baba booey buttons," explains Cygnus.

"Oh, what a hoot!" you say, "I wish I could have seen that!"

"There were 3 large speaker agents running interference and distracting skibidis. I and my mission partner laid explosives by stealth. We sparred over who'd get to use the detonator - you'll be pleased to know I won."

You drink your coffee as you listen raptly to Cygnus, as they explain how they and the other Alliance units were able to take out a skibidi supply line.

When you're done with your coffee, you move in to hug a much tidier Cygnus. You sigh happily as you squeeze and nuzzle them, and Cygnus holds you close and rubs your back in that characteristic way they do: running their hand slowly down your back then quickly bringing it back up to begin the next stroke.

"Would you clean my screen for me?" asks Cygnus.

"I'd love to, buddy. C'mere." You're happy to oblige. Of course, Cygnus is perfectly capable of cleaning their own screen, but they very much enjoy having you do it. All TVs seem to like having their screens cleaned for them, just as humans enjoy having their hair brushed for them - either lovingly by a trusted friend or with the reassuringly no-nonsense touch of a professional. "But your glass is still very dusty," you point out. "Let me do you with a dry cloth first, otherwise I'll just be rubbing wet dust all over your screen."

You move in with a soft dry cloth, and Cygnus politely holds up a hand to stop you. "Before you do that…" Cygnus asks, a little shyly, "Would you… use your breath? To get rid of the dust?"

"Absolutely," you affirm.

It's endearing how fascinated Cygnus is with your breath and with your pulse. When you and Cygnus cuddle, you notice how they pay attention to your heartbeat and how your breathing makes your circumference rise and fall. They seem to be intrigued by how your body can extract material it needs from the very air, and by how your lungs and your heart muscle work so tirelessly. You blow the worst of the dust off Cygnus's screen, and they delightedly turn their head into it to enjoy the stream of your warm breath.

"Would you… polish me with your breath?" asks Cygnus.

"Of course!" you say. You move your head in closer to their screen, and exhale hard onto the glass, making a spreading patch of condensation-mist. You wipe that off with the soft cloth, rubbing in little circles.

"Press harder," encourages Cygnus, "…please."

When Cygnus first allowed you to clean their screen, you'd done it very softly, worrying about damaging the glass. You needn't have worried - TVs' screens are made of very thick leaden glass, and you probably couldn't break them with your human strength if you tried. (You sometimes wonder if it's a bad idea to lick or kiss Cygnus's screen because of the leaded glass. Eh, probably - but you'll probably die of something else way before you build up enough lead exposure to get poisoned.)

You press more firmly into Cygnus's screen, making the pattern of phosphor-dots distort slightly under your touch. Cygnus buzzes their speakers softly, as if purring, and happy horizontal lines of static appear on their screen. You breathe on Cygnus's screen again and continue polishing, Cygnus pushing their screen into your touch like a happy cat does when you pet its head.

"Who's the cutest?" you coo, "…Well, I am, obviously. Who's the cutest entity in the world after me?"

Cygnus displays an amused emoticon, which blurs with static under your polishing. "Is it me?"

"Yes, it is," you purr. You move in to kiss Cygnus's screen.

"Would you…" Cygnus sounds shy about asking this, "…use your tongue? It feels so nice. And then clean me off afterwards?"

"I'd love to," you say, petting the top of Cygnus's head. You move your hands to either side of Cygnus's big rectangular head, holding their head gently and stroking the sides with your thumbs. You move your head in close while Cygnus helpfully inclines their own head closer. You lick the edges of Cygnus's screen, pushing your tongue right into the groove between the glass and Cygnus's head-casing. Cygnus emits a droning static sound, as if sighing with pleasure.

"Your tongue's so soft," Cygnus says with quiet admiration. It's another aspect of you that Cygnus is fascinated by.

You continue your ministrations, Cygnus enjoying the feeling of your warm soft tongue pushing its way right into the valley between screen and casing, chased by your nearly-as-soft lips and by your warm mammal breath huffing over their glass. Cygnus raises their hands to hold your own head, cupping your face with one gloved hand and stroking your cheek with the backs of their fingers on the other. You emit a soft trill of pleasure at the touch.

You do enjoy 'kissing' Cygnus this way, but after a while your tongue's tired and you've had enough of that glassy and mineral taste for now. You break away, and reach for the bottle of screen cleaner and a microfibre cloth so you can properly clear away all the biological buildup you've left behind on Cygnus.

"When was the last time you had a proper deep clean and detailing?" you ask, squirting the cleaner and cleaning Cygnus's glass.

Cygnus buzzes quietly, enjoying the cleaning. "I don't remember," they answer. "It's been a while; I should probably book myself in."

"…I could give it a go right now, if you're willing," you venture. "Admittedly, I've not done maintenance on a standard TV-unit yet. But I'm on the Titan's engineering team now, and I've repaired enough cams that I could probably assemble a standard camera-unit from scrap. I reckon I've got enough knowledge in my brain-meats to synthesise the required information."

"…I do like the idea of you working on me," replies Cygnus. "I know you'll handle me nicely." They emit another soft buzz, in appreciation of your work with the cleaning cloth. "Could we… try it? I trust you to stop if you encounter something you don't know what to do with." (Cygnus also has a trump card: their powers of screen-hypnosis are able to stop you in your tracks just as surely as a skibidi. Your friend's never used them on you except by your explicit invitation - you completely trust Cygnus not to manipulate you against your will, and they trust you to never do anything to them that might warrant such an enforced stop.)

You finish cleaning Cygnus's screen. "Your trust means a lot to me," you say, petting their head. "I'd love to treat you to a scrub-down, and re-touch your seams… the works. Oh, I'll make you so pretty." You put away the cleaning spray and throw the cloth in the laundry bucket for later.

You reach out to hold hands with Cygnus, which they happily accept. You rub your thumbs over the backs of Cygnus's hands, and ask: "Do you want to?"

"I really do," confirms Cygnus. "On your workbench?"

"Best place for it," you reply, as you and Cygnus walk hand in hand to your personal workshop.

(No-one was using the quarters next to yours, so you'd appropriated them for your personal projects and installed a door linking them to your living quarters. You'd moved your workbench in there as well as all the tools that you'd acquired from your pre-Alliance life when you were a wasteland survivor. It's for things like this that you're secretly thankful about being the only human member of the Alliance - at least in this base. If the base was full of humans you surely wouldn't all be at liberty to knock doorways in walls, but your solo status as something of a beloved mascot lets you get away with a lot.)

Cygnus removes their pea coat and hangs it up. To your surprise, they remove the rest of their clothing too - you'd assumed they'd keep it on and loosen parts of it for you as needed. Techfolk don't have any genitalia or orifices to hide, of course, but Cygnus told you previously that techfolk clothing is semi-protective and designed to work in tandem with their plating, which means that units feel exposed and vulnerable without it. Cygnus evidently feels completely at ease being this unprotected around you. You're quite touched, but you decide not to draw attention to it - Cygnus flusters easily (which is adorable) and it's probably better not to make a big deal out of the fact that they're naked. (You think of taking your own clothes off in solidarity, but you're the one who's going to be working with tools and chems - you need your PPE.)

Your friend's unclothed appearance isn't a surprise to you - you've seen individual parts of their body enough that you had a full mental picture already. You think this must be the first time beholding them completely unclothed all at once, though. It's an odd sight - Cygnus is cute, because they're your friend and everything about them is cute to you. But there's also something… wretched-looking about them, despite the sophistry of their panelling and frame. Techfolk aren't 'supposed' to be seen without their outer clothing, and their under-appearance is inelegant compared to their normally-dapper presentation. Cygnus climbs onto your workbench as you talk.

"I'm thinking I'll scrub the outside of your shell, then open you and check for any obvious wear, and clear out all dust and flakes… then I'll flush out and refill your coolant, close all your panels and re-do any of your welds that look as though they need it. I'll open your head and de-dust that too if you're happy for me to do that," you suggest. Opening up Cygnus's head will probably be scarier for them than just their torso, and they might prefer to leave that part to someone who has actually done that before. "We'll see how you feel when we get to it. You don't have to decide right now."

"All of that sounds lovely," replies Cygnus. "Maybe not the last part. I'll see how I feel."

You pick up a bucket, and ask: "Is there anywhere you'd like me to pay attention to first? Otherwise I'll just scrub you from top down." As you talk, you go 'shopping' around your workshop with your bucket, collecting a set of brushes suitable for cleaning the exterior of a techfolk shell, as well as a tin of compressed air, some microfibre cloths and other useful bits.

"An eminently sensible plan," replies Cygnus.

You return to them with your haul, and hold up a few brushes to the outside of their monitor casing so they can select the one they'd prefer you to use. You need one that's stiff enough to dislodge any dust in Cygnus's grooves but soft enough to be comfortable. Once Cygnus makes their choice, you set to work, using a microfibre cloth to clean out all the dust from the ventilation holes of their head-casing, and a brush to dislodge anything caught in the deeper grooves.

"Tinned air?" you offer.

"Urgh. That always feels rancid. Go ahead though, I could probably do with it."

You briefly squirt the tinned air through the ventilation holes in one side of Cygnus's head, blowing dust out of the holes on the other side. You nip over to the other side and repeat the action from the other direction before Cygnus has the chance to change their mind. (You guess it's unpleasant like the puff of air in your eyeballs at the optometrist.)

"Was I dusty?" asks Cygnus, looking relieved as you return the tin of air to the bucket.

"And how!" you say. "Any longer without a dusting and you could have grown potatoes in there. Anyway, that's your head done with. I'm going to scrub the rest of you now."

You get to work moving down Cygnus's body, scrubbing the grooves in their plating, while they buzz quietly in appreciation, as if purring. As you go, you dislodge ingrained grime that comes up in tiny elongate flakes, retaining the shape of the grooves briefly before crumbling into greasy dust. You wipe the dust away with a microfibre cloth and occasional use of the tinned air. You finish by using a bottle-brush to pull out any residue of grease and grime from the exhaust ports on Cygnus's lower legs. (They flinch a bit but endure it.)

"Much tidier! Would you like me to stop at the external scrub?" you ask. "Or are you ready for me to open you?"

"Open me and at least take a look inside, would you? I know you won't change anything that you don't understand."

It does make you happy that Cygnus trusts you that much. You pat their charging port cover affectionately. "Your charging port's so cute," you tell them.

"…It looks the same as any other TV's charging port. I'm pretty sure they were all stamped in the same mold."

"I know. But I love it because it's yours."

Cygnus displays a heart emoticon on their screen at that, as they lie on their back on the workbench.

You've seen Cygnus's charging port enough times that you reckon you understand the method of ingress for a TV's shell. You retrieve from a drawer what looks like an insulated plug, which you push into Cygnus's charging port. You turn it three-quarters right to unlock a seam in their plating. You withdraw the plug, then spudge open the seam, opening up Cygnus's shell around the charging port.

Lying underneath Cygnus's outer layer of exo-plating is the metal frame-rig that supports it, like the network of metal girders of a skyscraper that supports the building's skin of glass and brick. You spread out the torso plates like a pigeon spreading its wings (you should think of a swan, you suppose, given what you named Cygnus). You behold the underlying rig of Cygnus's torso, symmetrical and machine-regular, but with a slightly organic irregularity to its polygons, like the tessellating cell walls of plant tissue. It echoes the gold web of circuitry on Cygnus's ungloved hands, made of hexagons and triangles that wrap to the contours of the backs of their hands and their palms.

You clip the tether of an anti-static wristband to part of Cygnus's rig, and wrap and snap its other end around your own wrist.

"What's that for?" asks Cygnus.

"It's anti-static," you explain, "As an organic, I'm constantly producing random small amounts of electricity. If enough of a difference builds up between my flesh and your frame, the current will jump. It'll hurt me if it does, and it could shorten the life of your components. By tethering us like this, the current will remain at a constant flow between us and won't need to jump."

Cygnus appears to be considering this information.

"Would you rather I stopped now and closed your panels?" you ask.

"No, continue," answers Cygnus. "I believe you know what you're doing." They display a smiling emoticon for you, and they pet the band around your wrist. "We'll look after each other." Oh, you could hug them right now.

"I'm going to remove these frame-rig panels," you say, gently stroking one of the panels under each hand, "so I can give your interior components a nice clean. Are you happy for me to proceed?"

"Just so. You opened me up so confidently, it's hard to believe you've never done it before."

You undo the nuts guarding the clamps and spindles that hold the panels of torso framework, roughly corresponding to a ribcage made of polygons, to the rest of Cygnus's frame-rig. One at a time, you extricate each panel from Cygnus's torso, giving you unfettered access to their body cavity. Under the framework is their system of cabled machine 'muscle' attached to an endo-framework a bit like a vertebrate skeleton. (The feature you like best about a techfolk 'skeleton' is that the equivalent of their spinal column is sensibly in the middle axis of the torso for maximum structural support, instead of working stupid-hard stuck to the rear wall like in your own species' pseudo-bipedal frame, which could be better described as that of a hastily-unrolled quadruped. Techfolk are true designed bipeds.)

Cygnus's insides and their contrast with their shell are like an inversion of your own. A nude human is a cute and elegant thing, meant to be appreciated by its own kind. Your insides are an horrific squelching morass never meant to see the light of day. A techfolk's insides, while not meant to be on display, are meant to be worked upon by another unit. They're neatly wrapped up and colour-coded for you, each mechanical component safely in a zipped-up membrane made of what looks something like tyvek, to keep it from pinching any cables.

"Well, there's a thing," you comment, gently pushing aside a tyvek membrane to get a better look at something. Is it what you think it is?

"What have you found?" asks Cygnus. "…I haven't got a spider's nest or anything, have I?"

"No, no lifeforms here," you say. You've discovered that Cygnus's head connects to their body in the same way the Imperator's does - via a stem terminating in claw-like arms that fit into slots in the body cavity. The difference is that the Imperator can freely detach their head (and fly it around on rockets), whereas Cygnus's connection is inert and thoroughly locked down. "I was surprised to see you have the necessary hardware for a detachable head. I didn't think anyone had that besides the Imperator. …And the Titan now."

"A few of us have that," Cygnus explains, "A few prototypes were built before the Imperator's final version. They were still perfectly good as body parts, so they went back into the inventory for assembling new shells. My shell ended up with one of them. But even if mine wasn't locked down, I don't have the necessary drivers to use it. Or rockets on my head."

"Today I learned," you say. You move your hand near a bundle of purple cables (the same colour as the Titan's own, you realise). "May I touch?" you ask.

"Yes," says Cygnus with quiet anticipation.

You stroke the cables gently, noticing the beads of purple light marching down each wire's length. They softly illuminate Cygnus's body cavity with a purple glow. You run a handful of the fine spaghetti-like cables through your fingertips, making Cygnus squirm. You're about to ask if that was too much, when Cygnus says, their voice straining with pleasure: "Do that again."

You push your fingers into the morass of cables, curling your fingers to wrap around them and tug them ever-so-gently, tantalisingly. Cygnus tenses and grabs the workbench, emitting fluttering drones of static like a moan. "Oh, Phaeton, I need more of that… please, more…"

"Absolutely," you say quietly, trying not to betray your excitement. Cygnus asking for more of your touch is always hot. Your breath becomes a little heavier, and you swallow then exhale in anticipation. You scruffle your fingers into Cygnus's cables some more, dragging your fingertips down through them to find the roots, which you gently pinch.

Cygnus starts moving their hand to their charging port and stroking it. "Fuck me, Phaeton."

Ohh, that's so hot to hear, it's making your trouser crotch hurt. Cygnus asking you for sex is quite a contrast from your very first fuck, which had been your proposition, and the suggestion of which had reduced Cygnus to mute fluster.

"You know I want to, my friend," you reply, petting Cygnus's hand (they pet your anti-static band's tether with their thumb). "But I'm going to finish cleaning you first, and make you all pretty. You want to be nice and clean for me, don't you?"

"Ohh… absolutely yes…"

"Do you get this excited when you get cleaned down the repair bay?"

"No… no-one else has a touch like yours. The way your skin absorbs electricity… oh, there's nothing like it…"

Your sternum feels impaled with a dart of solid affection, and Cygnus's squirms and quiet soft voice - the way it gets when they're most excited and aroused - are turning you on… ohh, will you and Cygnus both be able to contain yourselves while you clean them?

"Cygnus, you're a gem," you tell them. "I'm going to clean you so your processors can run at maximum capacity and your mind at its sharpest… and then I'm going to fuck you until you're stupid again."

Cygnus emits a flustered burst of shy static at that. They still can't quite match your sexual confidence. It's so adorable that they try!

"I think you were due a clean," you comment. "You have more dust and clothes fibres in here than I expected to find. …Some hairs too. That's probably my fault. Dust's probably from me too. A lot of dust in human habitation is dead skin cells. I'm gonna clear out all the old bits of me - I know you love me, but I don't think you want to be me." Cygnus displays an amused emoticon at that.

You fetch something from a metal shelving unit: a vacuum cleaner attachment especially for working with techfolk components, with a narrow nozzle and anti-static brush at the tip. You set it up on your vac and probe Cygnus's innards with it, flushing them of grit and fibres. You unzip each tyvek pouch in turn and vacuum out any stray fibres and particles in those too, zipping each one up as you go. You use the vacuum in tandem with a tin of compressed air, blasting any little dust balls out of crevices.

"I didn't realise how much I needed that," says Cygnus once you've powered off the vacuum and you can hear them talk. "The airflow around my insides feels much clearer." Cygnus emits a happy drone of static, sounding relaxed. "What's next?"

"I'd like to drain your coolant tanks and flush them through with engine shampoo to get rid of any rust and flakes, then I'll refill them with fresh coolant. …And I've actually got a little bit of Titan-grade coolant I can add." (You'd persuaded the TV Titan's lead engineer to let you have a bit after you'd discovered it was very pleasant to rub on your skin.) "You deserve it and it's more useful to you than to me."

"Oh, all of that sounds wonderful," says Cygnus, sounding content. "Please go ahead."

You bring a bucket over, then gently pull Cygnus's coolant drainage nozzle out of its housing so you can empty it. "Let me drain those tanks and replace them with fresh coolant."

Cygnus emits quiet static sounds that sound a little like contented sighs, as their aged coolant falls out, and you begin syringing in pipework shampoo to flush out all the loose dust and flakes in the pipework. They seem to be enjoying the gentle abrasion and the increase in pressure from you pushing in the syringe.

"Wow, you really needed that," you comment, watching the various grit and cruft fall out of Cygnus's coolant ducts into the bucket on the floor. "I'll flush the cleanser out with normal coolant, then I'll top you up with a bit of the Titan-grade stuff."

"I appreciate you doing this for me," says Cygnus, as you begin syringing in the fresh coolant. "Oh, that's so refreshing. Almost as good as an upgrade."

As you continue syringing, the drainage valve eventually emits only coolant and no more cleanser, indicating that Cygnus's pipework is fully flushed out and full of nothing but fresh coolant. "Let's get a little of the high-grade stuff in there," you say as you reach for a syringe of Titan-grade coolant and begin injecting that into Cygnus's ducts.

Cygnus emits a burst of overjoyed static as the powerful coolant begins flowing into their system. "Oh!" they exclaim, "That's so good… Oh, I feel I could overclock my processors and not feel any hurt." Heart emoticons flood Cygnus's screen.

You stroke part of Cygnus's coolant piping. "I want to see you take the whole syringe. How would you like that?"

"…You'd really share all of that with me?"

"Of course!" The high-grade coolant actually serves a useful purpose in Cygnus. For you, it's just a nice-to-have. It's not even nutritious. And you dearly want to see how intense the effect is going to get… "Can I keep going?"

"Please keep going."

You keep pushing down the plunger, infusing Cygnus's coolant pipework with the most intense payload it's ever had. It's having quite a remarkable effect on them…

Cygnus writhes on the workbench. "Phaeton… I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can't take it any more."

"…Let's get you done." You put a hand on Cygnus's metal thigh. That's not an erogenous zone for them, but you need their attention there. "Fold your legs under." Cygnus obeys without question. As they do, you begin removing your legwear (bad workplace safety, but who's checking?) - Cygnus watches with intrigue, unsure what you're planning but wanting to see where you're going with this.

"I can see your warmth," says Cygnus (your friend's vision extends into the infra-red). "Your junk's powering up… does it please you, seeing me this way?"

"It really does," you say. You climb up onto the workbench and sit astride Cygnus's pelvis. They seem delighted by this new development!

You grip a handful of cables from two bundles, one at either side of Cygnus's shell. Cygnus makes fluttering purr-like static sounds as you pull the cables ever-so-gently until they're straight but not taut… then you ever-so-slowly ramp up the intensity of your pulling until the cables are tight. Cygnus is already dissolving into a paroxysm of ecstasy, their screen flickering through various test-card patterns and random punctuation marks, their vertical hold uselessly slipping. Their speakers buzz with incoherent static, the waveform clipping. The glowing beads of purple light travelling the cable lengths speed up their journey.

"Ohh…" Cygnus emits static that sounds like moaning. "I need more of that… Oh, Phaeton, more, please, more…"

You release the tension and let the cables go slack, before increasing your grip and scrunching the cables together, making the plastic coatings creak and squeak together. Cygnus writhes a little. You pull your fingers out of the cables, making your fingers into hook shapes so that they yank teasingly at the cables as you do so. You push your fingers back into the cable bundles, your fingertips questing through them, pushing them apart gently, reaching underneath them and hooking them back upwards in your grasp. Cygnus shudders. You dig and squirm your fingers around, entangling your fingers in Cygnus's wires until they're thoroughly entwined, every wriggle of your fingers pulling at Cygnus's cables every which way, pulling them taut and twisting them. Cygnus's monitor-speakers whir with static that sounds almost like a pleading whine.

You pull the cables back, bringing your fingers back to meet your junk and get to work on it… You masturbate, grinding your prepuce against your glans with one hand and using the other to massage and rub around and inside the folds of your pussy. Every movement of your fingers pulls Cygnus's cables, tightening some of them and slackening others, in an inextricable mix with your own pleasure. Cygnus's coolant motor whirs into overtime, and they reach out to grip the tether of your anti-static wristband.

"Nɒt-heəf…" utters Cygnus. They've become so delirious from your fingers re-arranging their metal guts as you work your pussy that they apparently haven't even noticed that they've forgotten to reverse the waveform of their speech output for your benefit. "Getting a room-temperature IQ, buddy?" you think. Oh, they're adorable!

You pull your fingers out of the nest of cables - if Cygnus is going to talk backwards, you need to be sure you can understand a request to stop or slow down. Cygnus emits a high static noise sounding like a whine of disappointment.

"…Why did you stop?" asks Cygnus, speaking forwards this time.

You pet one of Cygnus's hands. "You spoke in reverse. I wanted to be sure you weren't telling me to stop."

"Please continue… if I need you to stop I'll slap my hand on the workbench."

"A fine idea, my friend." You slip a hand behind Cygnus's charging port, plunging your hand deep into Cygnus's body cavity towards their back. You get to work unbolting the cylinder of the charging port socket from its housing.

"You're… going to remove my charging port and fuck the housing? …Well, you can if you want, but I won't actually be able to feel much of that. Whatever makes you happy, my friend."

"You got most of the first part right," you say, as you neatly pull out the charging port's socket, now held in place only by the power cables, out of its harness. You pull off the clips bundling together the slack of the cabling (making sure to drop the clips into one of the workbench drawers so you'll have no trouble finding them later), enabling you to lift the charging port out of Cygnus's body cavity. Cygnus is becoming extremely flustered at this treatment - they've probably never had their charging port removed while conscious before. You heft the metal cylinder and give it a gentle grip. "How are you doing, buddy? Don't forget to tap out if you gotta."

"…Continue."

You gently pull at the charging port, tugging at its wiring. Cygnus emits a squeaking buzz of static, nearly overwhelmed. You work your fingers back into Cygnus's bundled purple cables (holding the charging port under a thumb), pushing your digits into Cygnus's body cavity and wriggling them thoroughly between the wires as before. You squirm into position so that you can grind your pussy onto the metal cylinder of the charging port held in your hand, turning the cool metal warm, while you stimulate your glans with your other hand, both your hands tugging on Cygnus's wires and on the connectors of their charging port.

Cygnus snaps their hands to your hips, grabbing them and guiding your thrusts - oh god that's hot. They want you to thrust harder than you thought they would! You hear soft creaks as Cygnus's cables tug at their circuitboards and at the frame-rig panels. ("Oh hell, I hope you know your limits," you think. You don't want to have to haul all 200kg of Cygnus to the repair bay and deal with the questioning about why they need new circuits.) Cygnus arches under you, their hands gripping something invisible, their screen dissolving into bands of static - oh god, you never get tired of seeing them do that when you fuck. Cygnus is so adorable and hot when they get like that.

You keep grinding, pulling on Cygnus's wiring and pushing their charging port cylinder against your pussy. You begin to pant as your orgasm becomes inevitable.

"You're getting close, aren't you?" asks Cygnus. It's always so hot to be told that…

"Yes… Please, tell me to cum… I love it when you do that."

"Cum for me, Phaeton."

You finish, shuddering out a long gasp - "aaaAAAahhHHHAAaaaaa…" - as you quake and your face crunches, and all your limbs shake bonelessly. Your hands relax and drop Cygnus's charging port socket, bringing your attention back to reality - including the fact that you've squirted over Cygnus's innards (thank goodness for those tyvek wrappings). "Gonna clean that up," you say as you gently pull your fingers out of Cygnus's thoroughly-stretched cables. You pick up Cygnus's charging port and rest it on top of the harness that normally holds it.

You dismount from Cygnus, and give yourself a quick tissue-wipe (dropping the tissue to the floor for pickup later). Your legs are shaking a little; you're ready for a post-orgasm lie-down, but it's not quite time for that yet. You step over to the end of the workbench with Cygnus's head and rub their 'chin' on the underside of their monitor-casing with your fingertips, using your thumb to rub their screen a little. Cygnus emits a buzz of static as if sighing luxuriously. You move your hand onto their screen and softly stroke the glass.

Cygnus softly pets your arm and hand as you move your fingers in circles on their screen. Their speakers buzz and flutter. "Phaeton… I love you."

"I love you, Cygnus, dear heart," you reply. Cygnus's screen floods with heart emoticons.

You return with gloves, cleaning cloth and a suitable cleaning spray that'll be kind to Cygnus's insides, and clean off your slimy leavings. Cygnus emits quiet static like a purr as you clean with a professional touch. You restore Cygnus's charging port to its proper condition, re-clipping the bundles of cables coiling out of it.

"Quick test," you say, pushing a power cable into Cygnus's charging port. "Charging normally?" you ask.

"Yes, that's perfect," confirms Cygnus. You withdraw the power cable for now - you'll offer it back to Cygnus once you've finished putting all their plating back together.

"I'm going to check I didn't damage any of your cables or anything else," you say. "Is there anywhere that feels unusual?"

"I feel as though all my cables got yanked through a pulley."

"Oh no, that sounds terrible! Do you need to go to the repair bay-"

"No, don't worry!" Cygnus says hurriedly, worried to have caused you concern. "I meant it in a good way."

You laugh. "It didn't sound good!"

"It's more like…" Cygnus thinks. "I feel as though I've been pulled through a shredder and re-assembled."

"That sounds equally horrible."

"Oh dear. I am not describing this well."

You laugh again. Whatever Cygnus is feeling, it's probably not a sensation you can relate to. "After I've cum," you say, "I feel as though my muscles have been stretched pleasantly and then flopped back into a relaxed state. I feel as though I can relax harder than usual, if that makes sense. Like gravity is pulling me further down than it normally does. Is is anything like that?"

"…Maybe? That sounds a little different from how it feels for me, but I think you describe yours more nicely than I did mine."

"It makes me feel super-affectionate too. I just want to cuddle and fall asleep next to you… Let me finish putting you back together so I can snuggle with you."

"That's a feeling we have in common." Cygnus displays an affectionate emoticon.

You get to work closing Cygnus up, checking their cables with a voltage probe to make sure nothing is amiss (nothing is). You re-attach all their frame-rig panelling, re-doing all seals and clamps, and put together the overlying exo-plating, while Cygnus quietly purrs appreciative static. You put your palms on Cygnus's sides and massage them to help the plating pull itself just so onto the framework.

"How does that feel?" you ask once you think Cygnus is completely re-sealed and their shell back to normal.

"Sublime. Thank you, my friend," says Cygnus. "You've done me a lot of good. Can we move to your bed? I'd like that cuddle now."

"I'd love to!" you affirm.

To your surprise, Cygnus only picks up and carries their clothes, and doesn't put them back on. You'd assumed they'd be quite keen to restore their maximum protection. In response to your quizzical look, Cygnus says: "I'm getting to really enjoy the feel of your skin on my plating. It's worth the feeling of vulnerability." Cygnus continues, a little more shyly: "…You're so warm and so soft, and I really enjoy the way your skin absorbs electricity."

You cluck happily at Cygnus's words.

Cygnus points to the remaining syringe of Titan-grade coolant. "Bring that with if you'd like. I'll rub it on your skin for you."

"Oh hell yeah," you say, picking up the syringe and following Cygnus to your bed. (You grab a box of disposable gloves too in case Cygnus would rather not get coolant over their bare hands.)

The two of you get into your bed (Cygnus depositing their clothes somewhere out of the way). It's not quite as comfortable cuddling against Cygnus's metal plating as it is with their clothes on, but you enjoy the closeness with your friend and you feel touched by how much Cygnus trusts you. And nuzzling their screen is always nice. The two of you get to work cuddling and petting and caressing each other affectionately, Cygnus making soft trills of static and you making clucking sounds in your throat.

After a while, Cygnus picks up the syringe of coolant. "You like this stuff, don't you? …You certainly seemed to enjoy whatever you were doing with the Titan's coolant nozzle that time."

(You weren't sure if Cygnus and the assembled scientists and engineers had been able to hear you when you did that. Evidently they had.)

"Ohh, I absolutely do," you confirm, feeling a little more excited just thinking about it, and at the memory of the sheer exhibitionism you'd enjoyed when you'd fucked the Titan in front of what felt like nearly the whole TV faction.

"Can I squirt it on you and rub it on your skin?" asks Cygnus.

"I'd love you to do that," you reply, as you take off your remaining clothes until you're as naked as Cygnus.

Both of you sit up, and Cygnus gets to work rubbing the coolant into your skin. (They did opt for the disposable gloves in the end - you feel smug about having had the foresight to grab them.) Your friend rubs and strokes you lovingly, leaving a trail of coolant that at first numbs your skin then gives way to rolling waves of cooling and heating. You feel both relaxed and invigorated, and you feel delighted to be on the receiving end of such a loving touch from your dear friend. Cygnus seems to be enjoying feeling your softness, pressing their palms into you and paying attention to how your flesh yields. A purr rises in your own throat.

Once you're throughly rubbed down and basking in the waves of hot-cold rolling over you, Cygnus notes that there's still over half the syringe left. "Are you finished with it for now, or do you want any more? …I could push it up your ass for you if you like."

"Oh, I want that," you affirm. "And I want to drink a bit of it. Let's do that first - I can safely put something up my ass that's been in my mouth but not the other way around."

You expect Cygnus to hand you the syringe so you can drink your fill, but instead they cup your head with one hand and bring the syringe to your mouth with the other. Ohh, that's a much hotter idea! You drink down the coolant - initially it only makes your mouth numb, then the cooling sensation rapidly kicks in and gives way to spreading warmth, then the two sensations cycle deliciously. You gently bite the syringe and roll your tongue around it. Cygnus pushes the plunger down slowly with one hand and uses the other to gently rub under your chin as you drink, fascinated by the soft little triangle behind your jawbone and in front of your cricoid crescents. Cygnus rubs their fingertip there in little circles - you delight in the loving tickly feeling mixed with the waves of heating and cooling spreading down your gullet.

Cygnus stops pushing the plunger, and asks: "Have you had sufficient?"

You'd happily drink the whole syringe down, but you do want to leave some for your ass. "Yeah, let's switch ends."

"Are you sure?" offers Cygnus, rubbing under your chin some more. "We don't want you to get thirsty," they say teasingly, their thumb hovering over the syringe plunger. Oh! Cygnus getting bolder about teasing you - that's absolutely hot. Easily-flustered Cygnus is adorable but assertive Cygnus drives you wild.

"Oh, you're making it very tempting…" you say, "But I want some up the arse too."

You move into a suitable position for Cygnus to administer the syringe, and pass them a bottle of lube from your beside table. Cygnus lubes up the syringe and pushes it in you. "Are you ready?" they ask.

"Oh hell yeah," you say.

Cygnus pushes down the plunger, sending an initial shot of numbness into you followed by pulsating waves of heating and cooling, marching up your guts towards the parade heading down your oesophagus. (Oh, might they meet in the middle? A lovely thought!) "Do you want more?" asks Cygnus.

"Empty it in me."

Cygnus is only too happy to oblige. You squirm happily at the spreading warmth and coolness twisting your guts delightfully, echoing the sensation on your skin. How wonderful that both of you are able to enjoy this substance! You growl with pleasure as Cygnus continues emptying the syringe into you. They pull the empty syringe out of your ass, deftly wrapping it in a tissue and dropping it on the floor by the bed for later pickup. You wriggle with delight, feeling frisky. You playfully 'tackle' Cygnus, wrapping yourself around them and pushing your face against their head-casing.

"…Could I bite your aerial?" you venture.

"Absolutely not. I'm sorry, my friend."

"Do not apologise. Don't ever apologise for having a boundary or a limit." You lightly 'headbutt' the side of Cygnus's head-casing in mock-anger, then gently rub your face against the casing and kiss the side of their head. Cygnus buzzes their speakers in appreciation of the touch and your words, and wraps themself around you. You press yourself against Cygnus, and they rub your back affectionately.

"I'm going to get dressed," says Cygnus, "I'm starting to feel a little irritated from having all my sensors exposed to the elements like this."

"Before you do that," you ask Cygnus, "Did you want to go back in my workshop and I'll take a look at your welds?"

"…Do you actually have welding equipment here?"

"I do indeed. Don't worry, it's my personal gear from before the apocalypse. I didn't take Alliance equipment without authorisation."

"…I'll pass. I believe you'd do a fine job, of course. But I've had enough of repairs for the evening. I'd rather just cuddle."

That suits you just fine! Cygnus dons their suit and tie while you change into some clean nightwear, and the two of you return to the bed. You wrap Cygnus in a fierce hug, purring and growling with delight at the residual sensations from the coolant in you and rubbed on you. It's making you playful and squirmy! Cygnus returns your hug, enveloping you with playful restraint. The two of you pass the time like this, playfully 'wrestling'; you press yourself into Cygnus and wriggle, while they very gently pin you in place, using their superior weight and strength to their advantage.

"You've got some energy to burn off, haven't you?" comments Cygnus amusedly.

"Mmm, yeah," you say with a happy growl, pushing yourself into Cygnus (enjoying being able to press harder into them than before, thanks to the layers of clothing making a softer barrier) and 'corkscrewing' in their embrace.

"Well," suggests Cygnus, "How about you fetch your strap-on and let me fuck you?"