Chapter Text
It had finally come to this. Keith had sworn for three years now that this day wouldn’t come. Ever since these things had been made available for purchase, he’d been adamant he’d never buy one. He didn’t need one; he was stronger than this, or at least that’s what he’d told himself.
He was twenty-three years old now, and his life hadn’t really come together yet. In fact, it wasn’t even showing signs of improvement. He’d worked the same dead-end job for years now – as a hoverbike mechanic in town. He was good at it, but it was a minimum wage job, and he lacked the charisma and unwarranted cheerfulness that was necessary to thrive in the small company.
His colleagues were all friends with each other. They laughed together during work hours, they talked about their families over coffee breaks, and they even hung out outside of work. Keith had never been included in any of it. He supposed he must have given off an anti-social vibe of sorts because no one had ever spoken to him aside from assigning him a task, and any attempt of his to join in was met with a complete lack of acknowledgement.
It was nothing new. He’d been virtually alone for all the years since his dad had died. The workers in the children’s home never cared about him. The moment he aged out of the system, they cast him aside like trash. And with nowhere else to go, he’d gone in search of the house his father had once owned, out in the desert.
But by the time he’d finally found the location, the house had been demolished. Just his luck. All that remained was the dilapidated shack beside it that his father had often spent hours in at a time, fiddling with old radios. He’d never been sure why his dad did that. A hobby was supposed to be something enjoyable, but every time the man returned from that shack, there was a sadness in his eyes. Whatever his goal had been, Keith supposed he’d never achieved it.
Nowadays, Keith would sometimes fiddle with those same radios, or peruse the written records of signals they’d received. He didn’t understand what any of it meant, but it made him feel closer to his dad, and that imaginary connection was the closest thing he had to a companion these days.
That was soon to change though; he finally had enough savings to change it. All he had to do was make a payment of several thousand dollars, and he’d never need to be alone again.
Sitting at his computer and scrolling through the different models of HRRCs (Hyper-Realistic Robotic Companions), Keith couldn’t help the twisting sensation he got in his gut. He knew he wanted to buy one. But, even alone in his home, he still felt like he should be ashamed.
There was something odd about dragging sliders to adjust breast size and shape, and other things of that nature, creating a customised doll to have sex with. Yes, Keith intended on having sex with his HRRC. That’s what most of the buyers used them for anyway so it wasn’t like he’d be one of the few. In the public eye, they were seen almost exclusively as sex robots – despite claims by the manufacturer that they were created simply to provide companionship and domestic care.
For a long time, Keith had told himself, “If I ever do buy one, it’ll just be a companion. That’s all.” He didn’t want to be one of those creepy, lonely guys who had sex with a doll because they couldn’t get a real partner. That felt like rock bottom to him. But, as it turned out, that’s exactly what he was. He was a lonely guy – still a virgin at twenty-three – and with no meaningful relationships at all in his life, this was his only hope of ever changing that.
A part of him did feel like he was being shallow, focusing so much on aesthetic appearance, but he reminded himself that the price was the same whether she had his ideal body type or not, so he might as well make her just as he wanted.
……
When a knock sounded at the door two months later, Keith knew exactly what it would be. No one came out this direction unless it was with a delivery for him – one of the benefits and curses of living in such a remote location. After fixing his hair up a little, he opened the door to see two buff men – one resting his hand atop a large wooden crate, and the other with a clipboard in hand.
“Mr Kogane?” the latter man asked, and Keith nodded at him.
Keith took the clipboard and pen that were thrust toward him and scrawled his name across the bottom of the page as the delivery men carried the crate past him and laid it in the middle of his small living room.
No sooner were the men gone than he was down on the floor, prying the box open. It’d been a full nine weeks since he’d placed his order (that’s how long it took to create the customised robot) and he was excited to finally see her in the flesh… or silicone, as it were.
But as he pulled away the sheets of soft packaging material, his heart fell. This was not the model he’d ordered. Not even close. This HRRC was a man.
It was just typical that they’d sent him the wrong item. He was unlucky in everything else; why not this too? Frustrated and annoyed, he pulled out his phone to complain to the company, but after half an hour of being left on hold, he threw the device down on the sofa and himself after it.
He angrily kicked one of the pillows onto the floor and grabbed his phone again. Before long, he was far down the internet rabbit hole – reading through forum thread after forum thread of annoyed customers who’d been denied returns and exchanges after they’d signed for the wrong HRRC.
Well, that was just great(!) He was probably stuck with this HRRC now.
Keith slid down onto the floor and peered into the crate again, his frustration starting to ebb a little as he took in the robot’s face. It really was as hyper-realistic as advertised. Had it not been for the lack of a tell-tale rise and fall of the HRRC’s chest, Keith could have been convinced there was a real man sleeping before him.
And he was an incredibly beautiful man, Keith had to admit. He had a masculine face and a strong jaw – the kind that would draw his attention if he’d seen a man like this out somewhere. There were many things Keith had never confided in anyone, and his bisexuality was one of those things. In the end, it was a coin toss that had him selecting female for his HRRC, but had it come up male instead, he was sure this was pretty much the face he would have chosen.
The bot’s hair was short and dark with a longer tuft of white at the front, dangling over his forehead. Keith reached to brush it aside but paused for a moment, a part of him convinced the man would wake up and ask him what the fuck he was doing. He reasoned that thought away and then slowly ran his fingers through the bot’s white hair. It felt as realistic as it looked, and it was also incredibly soft.
When Keith pulled back more of the packing sheets, he noticed that most of the HRRC’s right arm – from just below his shoulder joint down to his fingers – was a solid grey, in contrast to the rest of him which had been expertly painted to look almost identical to human skin. Keith couldn’t figure out why the arm was like that. A manufacturing defect, perhaps… Although, the seam along the border between flesh and grey made it look more like a patch job. That was certainly odd on a newly made HRRC.
He brushed that thought aside and pulled the packing off entirely, noting that the HRRC was practically naked, save for a pair of tight black boxers. His body was defined and muscular – exactly what Keith would have chosen if he’d had any say in the bot’s design. Every part of its torso drew his eye. It was all so perfect that his anger over the mistake completely vanished. This man was absolutely stunning from head to toe.
Keith’s curiosity got the better of him and he hooked his finger into the waistband of those black boxers and lifted them up to peek. Instantly, his eyes went wide as they fell upon the man’s cock. Whoever had designed him certainly must’ve liked their men to be well-endowed, because it was huge.
Keith tucked it away again and pulled out the instruction booklet to distract himself from the flush feeling on his face and the dirty thoughts in his mind. As attracted as he felt to this HRRC, he supposed he shouldn’t just accept the tales he read online as fact. He should activate the bot and find out if he knew who he was meant for.
Setting the booklet aside, Keith located the tiny, almost invisible hole behind the HRRC’s left ear and positioned the activator pin at the opening. He paused, suddenly realising how awkward it would be to talk to even an artificial man in this state of undress. He should give the other something to cover himself with first.
He retrieved the old suitcase from under his bed and opened it, pulling out the few remaining articles of his father’s clothing. They’d never been any use to him due to his small stature and lithe frame, but he was sure they’d be a near-perfect fit for the man on his living room floor.
When Keith returned to the room, he carefully worked a pair of tight black pants up the bot’s muscular legs and dressed his top half in a grey shirt and a black vest. Satisfied that he’d now be able to look the man in the eye without blushing, he inserted the pin and activated him.
The HRRC’s eyes opened slowly, like he was waking up from a nap. Keith gasped as the other drew his first artificial breath and locked eyes with him. His eyes were a warm brown that seemed to hold so much vibrance and life. It really was incredible. If Keith hadn’t just seen the bot lying lifeless in a crate, he could definitely have mistaken him for a real man.
“Hello,” the HRRC greeted him with a pleasant smile as he sat up in the crate. “My name is Shiro. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Even with the bot fully dressed, Keith felt his face grow hot anyway. No one had ever spoken to him with so much warmth and enthusiasm before. “H-H…Hi…” he stammered back. “Um… I’m Keith.”
“Hi, Keith! I can’t wait to get to know you.” The bot looked down at himself. “Did you get these clothes for me? They’re really nice.”
“Actually, they were my dad’s. I just figured they’d probably fit you and-”
“Thank you, Keith.” Shiro smiled again and Keith felt his heart leap in his chest. The man’s voice was so beautiful, and his words sounded so sincere, so real.
Keith reached a hand out towards him. “Here, let me help you out of there. You’d be more comfortable on the couch.”
Shiro took it and Keith helped pull him to his feet. The man thanked him again as he sat down on the old, tattered couch. He looked so out of place there – the one new, perfect thing amongst a room full of worn furniture, old books, and miscellaneous junk. Of course, he did. Shiro didn’t belong there. He didn’t belong to Keith. His true owner was out there somewhere…
“Um… Shiro?” Keith started.
“Yes, Keith?” The bot smiled back at him.
“Do you… do you know who you’re meant for?”
Shiro blinked at him a few times. “I’m for you,” he said simply. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh…” The word came out as little more than a breath. Well, that was it: there was no buyer’s note in the box, and Shiro didn’t know who had designed and paid for him. The trail was dead, and Keith was going to keep him unless the owner showed up to claim him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have the HRRC he’d put time and effort into designing; having Shiro was so much more exciting. It was like a chance encounter with a beautiful man that was finally going the way no such encounter had ever gone with a real human.
Keith took in his new companion for a long moment, wondering what he should do next. “So… um, Shiro… can I get you anything? Food? Water?”
Shiro looked at him blankly and then laughed. “You know I can’t eat or drink, right?” Keith felt his face go red. That was such a stupid thing for him to say. Of course, Shiro didn’t eat; he was a damn robot. “It’s okay, Keith. Don’t be embarrassed,” Shiro soothed. “I can’t consume anything, but I can do pretty much anything else you can. What would you like to do?”
“I… I don’t know…”
“Then how about you tell me about yourself, Keith? I want to know you.”
He sounded so genuinely interested, and for the first time in his life, Keith felt like he could open up without judgement. For once, he had someone who would actually listen. “Well… I’m twenty-three,” he started. “I’ve lived here by myself since I was eighteen, and I’m a hoverbike mechanic.” It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d confided in anyone in what felt like forever.
“Oh yeah? That’s such a cool job. You’re so handy, Keith!”
Keith blushed again. He’d never received praise for his low-paying job before. And the oftenness and the way with which Shiro said his name was having an effect on him. He started to fiddle with one of his belt loops. “I actually have my own hoverbike too…” he added. “Would you like to see it?”
……
In the small garage that had been built against the wall of the shack, Keith gripped the thick burlap sheet he’d thrown over his bike to keep the sand and dust off it. With a sharp tug, he pulled it off and Shiro gasped in awe.
“It’s beautiful, Keith!” he exclaimed, his eyes going wide as he ran the tips of his fingers over the shiny red paint. “I love the colour.”
Keith was reminded then of Shiro’s grey hand that didn’t match the rest of him. And he wondered how much it affected him. Could Shiro feel the cool metal of the bike beneath his fingertips? Could he feel Keith’s eyes on him? Could he even feel anything at all? Keith said nothing – asking something like that felt rude – but his gaze lingered on that large, masculine hand for longer than he’d realised, only being pulled away when the man spoke again. “Keith, can we go for a ride?”
……
It was a completely new experience having someone on the back of his hoverbike. With every twist or turn or acceleration, Keith was aware of the extra weight he was carrying but adjusted his driving easily to accommodate it. The change came intuitively to him. But the feeling of arms around his waist was something his mind couldn’t adjust to so easily.
This was all so far removed from what he’d expected from his HRRC. When he’d placed his order, he felt like there’d be nothing to it; close contact would be easy with something that wasn’t real. But Shiro had flipped that logic around. The way he acted made it hard for Keith to remember he was a robot. He seemed so sentient, and that brought with it the usual awkwardness that Keith always felt around real people, even though Shiro’s kind demeanour also brought a sense of comfort and ease.
It was like his stomach was full of butterflies: the usual, anxious ones that were always flurrying around when he was interacting with another person, and now, also these calm, still ones that should have been soothing, but instead just gave the frantic ones more stuff to bump into.
Keith hadn’t realised until now just how touch-starved he’d truly been all these years. It was as if there was a hunger inside that he’d quashed down for so long he’d almost forgotten it was there – until he finally got a taste of it again. And now, it was all he could think about. His body craved it, even though it also terrified him. His heart was racing in a way it never did from just the thrill of stunts on his bike. This was intimate, and far more intoxicating.
Every laugh and excited gasp from Shiro spurred Keith on, coaxing him to go faster, turn sharper, be more dangerous. Every sound from the man behind him was beautiful, and he wanted more of it. Keith could feel the vibrations of Shiro’s thrilled laugh against his back as they tore across the desert plain, going faster and faster, swerving around the low-lying rocks.
Shiro’s arms tightened around him for stability. It was silly, but Keith felt like he was needed – he was something worth clinging to. He revved the engine harder, the whir of his hoverbike becoming louder as the gears began to strain. This was as fast as it could go. It was the thrill Keith had always indulged himself in after a hard day: that feeling of his troubles being – not blown away by a breeze – but torn away as he pierced through a wall of air that struggled to part fast enough for him.
How could he ever focus on all his petty worries when his hair was whipping round his face like it were alive, and the wind was howling in his ears so loud he could hear nothing else? Those worries were left behind, forgotten. He was free. And now, with Shiro against his back, it was a high like never before.
But in a split second, it was over. Keith’s stomach lurched. The crunch of metal split the air. He was thrown from the bike, losing all sense of direction until he felt his back slam onto the desert sand.
Sore and winded though he felt, he was lucky: he hadn’t been injured. He coughed up the sand that had gotten lodged in his throat and pushed himself upright. His body was weak and shaky, but adrenaline and the need to be sure Shiro was okay forced him to his feet. All that mattered in that moment was Shiro. Was he hurt? Where had he landed? Keith searched around himself frantically.
His ears were still ringing from the sound of the crash when he spotted Shiro – face down in the sand. He sprinted, paying no attention to the lack of air in his own lungs as he rushed to the man’s side. “Shiro!? Shiro!” he cried out as he knelt over Shiro’s body and turned him over.
There was a long, thick scratch across the front of the man’s face – over the bridge of his nose – but thankfully, no blood. That eased Keith’s panicked mind a little, but his whole body was trembling with the guilt of hurting his new friend so badly. Was the thrill and excitement of feeling wanted worth this? Of course, it wasn’t. He pulled Shiro tight to his chest. “I’m sorry, Shiro. Please be okay.”
“I’m fine, Keith,” the other answered, as calmly as if they were taking a pleasant stroll. “I can’t feel pain, remember?”
Keith’s next breath came a little easier. Oh yeah, Shiro was a robot; he couldn’t get hurt like a human could. Keith almost laughed at the realisation he’d been too panicked to make moments earlier, but it came out as more of a choked sound from the sobs that had been building in his throat. “Still though… I’m sorry. Your face…”
Shiro reached up to run his grey fingers over the fresh ‘scar’. “Do I look ugly now? You can send me back to the factory for a repair.”
“No! Not at all, Shiro!” Keith babbled back hurriedly. “You’re still beautiful! …I mean… you look fine… Well, more than fine… You-”
“Then it’s okay,” Shiro cut him off with a warm smile. “I don’t mind a scar if you don’t.”
Keith couldn’t help but smile back at him. Something about it was so infectious. It was the most beautiful smile Keith had ever seen, and it was one that reached Shiro’s eyes even though that shouldn’t have been possible.
Now that his worry had ebbed, Keith noticed just how close Shiro’s face was to his. And he couldn’t help but wonder: if he were to touch it, would Shiro be able to tell? Would he be able to feel the heat of Keith’s skin on his cheek? Or the way he was trembling from the nerves?
Keith felt his face grow hot again, and he cleared his throat before turning away from Shiro. “I… um… I should take a look at the bike. We need it to get back.”
With his own blushing face averted, he missed the dejected look on Shiro’s. He’d already refocused his attention onto his crashed bike as he made his way over to it, noting that, luckily, it didn’t seem to be in too bad a shape.
He popped open the storage compartment that was concealed under the bike’s seat, ignoring the eyes he could feel on him as he pulled out the tools he always carried with him in case of an emergency. He laid them down on the ground beside the right hover blade, which seemed to be the only one to have suffered any damage. Its housing was dented at the front, but that was purely cosmetic. He could fix that up at home, so he turned his attention to the gimbal that had been knocked out of alignment, and set about repositioning and securing it.
“It’s really cool that you know how to do this, Keith,” came Shiro’s voice from somewhere above him. Keith felt his cheeks turn pink at the praise, but he hoped that the other couldn’t see his face from this angle, or that maybe he’d think the flush on his cheeks was some kind of reflection from the bottom of the hoverbike. “Thanks,” he muttered back shyly as he continued to twist the bolt back into place.
Keith’s mouth felt dry, and he was sure it was from more than just the sand that had been in his mouth. He kept turning at his spanner, almost obsessively, even though the bolt had been fully tightened for almost a minute now. He just couldn’t stop thinking about being so close to Shiro’s face and realising just how much he’d wanted to kiss him in that moment.
Eventually, Keith got up from under the bike. He couldn’t hide there forever. At some point, he had to face Shiro again so it might as well be now. He rolled his shoulders slightly as he straightened himself up, wiping the grease from his hands with an old cloth as he did so.
A glint of light caught his eye from the wing mirror of his bike. It was only then that he noticed the sun setting over the horizon. It was later than he’d thought. “Sorry that took so long,” he apologised, focusing on his hands as he continued to wring the cloth around them. “I think that should do it though. Let’s head back home.”
“It’s okay, Keith,” Shiro replied gently. “I enjoyed watching you work. You really are so handy.”
He was standing so close to Keith, the soft orange glow of sunset making his skin look even more beautiful, and the shadows it cast making his jaw look even more defined. Keith’s heart started thumping in his chest. His throat felt tight.
“Keith, why did you pull away so fast before?”
He didn’t have an answer – at least not one he felt he could give. “I… I just…” His back bumped against the side of his hoverbike, the cool feel of the metal soothing his burning skin even through his shirt.
“Was it because you like me? ‘Cause the way you were acting was as if you wanted to kiss me, but you’re shy about it.” Keith opened his mouth but then closed it again, looking away as his face turned as red as his hoverbike. “I like you too, Keith.”
“Because you’re programmed to.”
“No, because I think you’re great, Keith.” Shiro stepped closer. There was barely any distance between them now. And with the hoverbike right behind Keith, he couldn’t run – even if he wanted to. Maybe it was just something Shiro would say because he was programmed that way, but did that matter? It still felt so real. And Keith’s feelings were real. He wanted this, and not just because it was a kiss. Because it was Shiro.
He finally looked up again, his breath catching at how warm and inviting Shiro’s brown eyes looked in the final rays of daylight. “I do… I like you too, Shiro…”
Shiro moved in towards him slowly, gently taking Keith’s narrow hips in his large hands and bringing his lips to Keith’s. They felt so real. So soft and so perfect – like his own did on a good day when they weren’t dry or flaky. Keith lost himself in the kiss, loving the comforting but surprising warmth that radiated from Shiro’s mouth and hands, and finding himself unable to keep in his quiet moans as one of Shiro’s hands traversed his back to curl into the soft hair at the back of his head.
Before he even knew it, he was kissing Shiro back – and with none of the hesitancy he thought he’d have at his first kiss. He felt like he belonged here in Shiro's arms, like he was truly wanted. The last of the sun’s light slipped away around them, and all Keith could think was that this was the best thing that could ever have happened to him. And he never could have guessed that a mistake would bring him everything he ever needed.