Axl's Bad Day

Hello, ladies and gentlemen! This is my second fic, but is more of a ficlet I came up with while I work on my bigger piece (if you have read that one so far, thank you). Right now I’m planning to have this remain a oneshot, but I might be convinced to add more if the ratings/reviews are positive enough. :-)

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this stupid, silly, dirty little story ^.^

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She broke my poor, weary heart. Again. I wasn’t sure if she was serious after the first seven times, but now I think I am getting the picture. My mind replays what she says, word for word, with the exact voice, volume, and tone to boot. That’s how a Reploid’s memory works.

“For the last time, Axl, you’re not my type. Get it through that thick head of yours and fuck off!” Palette yelled, then quite literally booted my ass out of the Senior Navigation Room. Ouch.

Thanks to her, my shitty day is doomed to get worse. Not only did she give me a sore ass in exchange for my attempts to dial in a date with her that morning, I am now due to appear at a god awful, bored-to-malfunction meeting between the Federation officials and the Maverick Hunters. As a Class S Hunter, I should be allowed to tell them to piss off and take their briefcases full of horseshit with them. How could they blame me for not being at all interested in the crap on their agenda? I’m a fighter, not a diplomat! I already know what they want anyway, given that it is an election year. Short of begging, they will desperately implore us to budget for more security in their districts—not because they really cared, I suspect, but because it looked good to their constituents.

Despite the obvious politics involved, Signas always wants his top Maverick Hunters there as advisors, but he should know by now that I don’t give a shit so long as my schedule stays busy. Let ‘em haggle without me, I say. Yet I was obligated if I wanted to keep my rank, or so Signas said. Lame. He’s a good boss, but he can be a real dickbag sometimes.

I hope that there are some unsuspecting mettaurs I can drop kick on the way to the conference room. I sigh, thinking that I’d likely end up sodomizing them instead, which would look terrible on my record if someone like Douglas, Lifesaver, or god forbid Signas himself caught me in the hallway humping away with one of those little construction helmet-wearing bastards. I really wished Palette had agreed, or at least showed even a molecule of interest. I haven’t been laid since I left Red Alert, and she seems like the type that wouldn’t mind an occasional roll in the hay. I practically busted a nut the first day I met her, with her sexy, spunky, brainy attitude—although I don’t have nuts, but a miniature holding tank between my legs that stores dead nanomachines and other byproducts filtered from my system. Or so Palette explained to me, but then said I should be just as happy expelling it in others ways besides sex. I sincerely hope she is kidding.

Her cold words and unwarranted violence convinced me I was wrong to even imagine expelling my byproducts into her system anyway. For crying out loud, I’m never going to find a reliable source of pussy in all of HQ. Between Alia working up the nerve to score with X, and Layer blushing whenever Zero so much as breathes in her direction, the pickings were rather slim, and I was getting desperate. Even the automated, feminine-looking floor buffers were looking pretty damn fine at this point.

And what the hell is with X and Zero, anyway? I simply cannot fathom that with girls as cute and intelligent as our operators, why X and Zero are as dense as titanium-X plating and completely uninterested. How can they resist?

When I think about it on one hand, I can understand if X is capable of cockblocking himself with his innocence and unflinching principles. Zero, on the other hand, seems like he wouldn’t mind cutting loose while off-duty. However, I’ve heard that he had himself a chickadee at one point, just before the Repliforce uprising. Maybe he’s still not over it, though it was a long time ago, long before my time. Whatever the case, their seniority has also wound them up tighter than a screw and they’re all business now it seems. Every girl—and occasional boy—who approaches them with romantic designs have all been turned down politely and without a second thought.

Despite that nagging question mark over their love lives, they are the only two I am looking forward to seeing at this lovely meeting of endless torture. They alone will prevent me from putting a smoking hole through my own CPU, especially once the Feds get deep into cost-benefit analyses, and for that I count on my comrades as much as I do when facing a giant Maverick. Zero was a good sport, often acting like a schoolkid with me: muttering jokes under our breath, doodling, and, more recently, using laser pointers to great effect. X always tries to look serious, casting us withering glares from time to time at out antics, but we know it’s all faked. He is just as sick and fucking tired of these meetings as we are, but he is more satisfied with bitching about them later.

Imagining what we might be up to today, I smile to myself as I enter the conference room, but am disappointed to see only Signas and the gaggle of representatives who are talking with him.

“Oh, Axl,” Signas says, pausing his conversations with the Feds. “Very good. Are X and Zero with you?”

I furrow my brow. “Uh, no sir,” I say, genuinely surprised. I figured they would be here before me, because X is always early and usually makes sure that Zero is, too.

Signas sighs. “Damn. It would be nice to get started before schedule if we could. We’ll give them a few minutes, then.”

As a few minutes turns into ten, Signas drums his fingers against the round conference table and sighs again. Planted on said table is my face in an obvious display of boredom, for I have nothing in common with these fat douchenozzles. Patronizing them with conversation is beyond my interests. As I feared, there is nothing—absolutely nothing—to prevent me from wanting to eat my gun. Now X and Zero were approaching severe tardiness, which would probably be a historic moment in their careers. Also historic would be me kicking their sorry asses for it, on this fateful day of October 13, 21XX.

“Axl, would you go look for them?” Signas asks, breaking me out of my dangerously suicidal/vengeful train of thought. Thank fucking goodness. I want to kiss Signas full on the lips for giving me an excuse to get the hell out of there, but instead I bolt upright and stand, and with a nod and a salute I take off. As I exit, I wonder about what my so-called friends were doing. Seriously, what were they doing that would force them to ditch me in a room full of sleazebags to fend for myself, and—even worse—to make them forget to invite me? The reason better be damn good.

I take my time anyway as I head to X’s quarters first to start my search. I make it to his hallway and squeeze by a floor cleaner who was hard at work, with her creepy, always-smiling female face. As her bulky “dress” that conceals her whirring brushes and frothy soaps from the waist down passes me, I mindlessly excuse myself past her to stand before X’s door.

I raise my hand to knock when faint noises strike my ears. I mentally reconfigure my senses in order to bolster my hearing sensitivity, for I swear that the noises are actually voices, and that they were coming from X’s room. Augmentation complete, I press my ear to the door, and my suspicions are confirmed.

“Zero, we’re gonna be late,” I hear X’s voice say, sounding a little breathless.

“I don’t care, and neither do you,” Zero’s voice retorts, also sounding slightly winded.

I pull my ear from the door and furrow my brow. What on Earth were they talking about? Too bad I can’t merely waltz into X’s room to find out, for no one was allowed to access another’s quarters unless specifically permitted by Signas or the room’s occupant themselves. As far as I could tell, X and Zero were the only ones allowed access to each other’s quarters, and absolutely no one else. As much as they trust me, I don’t take it personal that I’m not allowed access. Compared to how much trust they had built over the years, I was still small potatoes.

However, as the floor buffer chugged past me again, and it gave me a sinister idea. The custodial ‘bots were also an exception, as I recall. I smirk wickedly, and put a hand on the buffer’s shoulder.

“Howdy ma’am, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your outfit for a spell,” I say, tipping an invisible hat. My copy chip goes to work, absorbing her DNA in a white flash, and instantly I reform into her shape. I let her go to resume her automated work.

With my new form, I also obtain the custodial key. Super. From my fingers I sprout plugs and insert them into the security panel beside the door. The light flashes green, and the door opens with a quiet swish. I have no idea why I want to be so sneaky with my comrades, but I revel in the tremendous rush, similar to the kind that I tend to miss when I’m not in the field. I enter quietly, reforming back into my original form when the door swishes closed behind me. There is a slight curve in the wall as a short hallway rounds and connects to the apartment through a doorless portal. I creep up to the opening and peer around the jamb.

I snap back around into the safety of the hallway. Error. Abort. Retry. That is, No Fucking Way. I turn and look around again, and my eyes confirm what my brain failed to process: X sitting on a computer panel with his legs wrapped around Zero’s hips, their lips locked and their hips shamelessly grinding into one another’s.

Well I’ll be Sigma’s bitch in a ballerina outfit. Their position and activity…now 100% uploaded into my long-term memory banks. That was at the very bottom of what I expected, but suddenly, everything makes sense. Of course they are dating! Why did I not think of it before?

My focus shifts back quickly when Zero’s hand makes its way to X’s ass. They are far enough away to where they don’t seem to notice me, but I conceal as much of myself as I can behind the jamb while engaging my binocular vision. As rotten as I feel about watching my good friends have sex with each other, I cannot tear my eyes away. Even worse, I feel my own arousal flare to life when Zero dips his digits into X and begins to work him loose. My arousal calls to me, amplified by all that pent up frustration assuming total control, and my groin feels like its twitching with need. I reach down, running my hand over my belly before descending, recalling my armor so I can grip my rock hard shaft. Gods, never in my life had I been so instantly turned on by watching others fuck. I thought I was only into female Reploids, but maybe I hold an exception for X and Zero. They are indeed handsome ‘loids, and watching them screw seems to generate the heat equivalent of two stars colliding. I breathe hard, lightly stroking myself as the scene continues to unfold.

Zero already worked two fingers into X and is now fingering his ass roughly, poking and prodding and prying, desperate to get him ready. X moans and chirps at Zero’s treatment, moving to bury his face into the crook of Zero’s neck. After about a minute, Zero relents and snakes his head around to pepper X’s face with tender kisses.

“You’re so beautiful,” Zero breathes. “I’ll never stop saying it, my one and only.”

X sighs—swoons, rather—before saying, “Zero, I love you. So very much.”

I was feeling rotten, but I have never felt like more of a sick, disgusting, perverted son of a bitch than at that moment. My friends were not just having sex—they were making love, and here I am beating myself off to it. Gods, did it feel good, though. The beauty of the moment infects me, and I rub my shaft hard when Zero positions himself and spears X through, and I nearly let myself come when I hear X cry out with shock and pleasure.

“Always so tight,” Zero says, groaning as he began his rhythm, pumping himself to the hilt inside X. I restrain my own pumping, synching my strokes with Zero’s thrusts. As Zero spurs himself faster and harder, so do I. I bring a fist to my mouth to chew on, stifling my own moans by chomping down on my knuckles.

X’s hands are running all over Zero’s arms, shoulders, and back, and his mouth is pressed into Zero’s shoulder, suppressing his not-so-innocent noises while wearing the cutest face I have ever seen. As Zero grows less steady and more frantic with his thrusts, X’s moans and whimpers grow louder and more frequent until he starts saying Zero’s name over and over again, the shoulder doing nothing to mitigate his unimaginably sexy mewlings.

“Zero, Zero, I’m gonna…oh!” X warns. “I love you, I love you. That’s it. Come for me,” Zero coaxes in response. Here it comes. I’m going to see X’s O-face. I brace myself as Zero shifts in order to pound him as hard and as fast as he can while grasping X’s erection and tugging him just as mercilessly. I stroke myself in a controlled flurry, keeping myself on the edge, ready to blow at any moment, knowing that any longer and I could possibly spiral into a sexually repressed coma right then and there.

Finally, X loses it, his breath catching as his orgasm erupts from his shaft, coating Zero’s hand and his own belly with his pale fluids. Zero grunts and lurches, clearly having staved off his own orgasm for that moment and flooding X’s ass with a dose of his own cum. He grunts and sighs, riding the crests with a look of peerless delight.

And that’s when I let go. I hose the wall with my own blast of fluids, hoping with all my soul that I don’t do anything stupid like trumpet loudly while secure in my own delight, although I’m not sure if I cared. The pleasure engulfs me like electricity from a live wire, and I am just as blind and stunned as if a chaff grenade went off in my face. The feeling nothing short of…unreal.

I feel like sobbing as the rush dissipates, leaving me chilly and sticky in my own material. Luckily, I come to my senses in time to catch X and Zero refitting themselves for work, so that I could quickly pack up my own junk in order to get the hell out of there and avoid being mauled.

“Crap! What are we going to tell Signas?” I hear X ask.

“They must not care that badly if they haven’t sent someone to look for us. Lucky, huh?” Zero replies. I blush. My feet should be moving. I knew I should be getting the hell out of there.

“We should get going anyway,” X says.

And I bolt. I almost collide with the door before it swishes open and I tumble out. I make a move to defenestrate myself as well before stopping to wonder what the fuck I’m doing. I then clear my throat, regain my composure, and turn around at the door. Maybe I can still look innocent in all of this. I knock.

The door slides open fast and X and Zero are standing there, completely normal and not looking a bit like they just finished up with a mind-blowing quickie.

“Oh, Axl?” X simultaneously greeted and questioned.

“Uh, hey guys,” I manage, trying not to blush as I recall how they looked not but a few minutes ago. “Signas sent me to look for you. I can’t believe you guys are late.” I then grin mischievously, before asking, “What were you guys doing, anyway?”

“Reviewing the results of our last mission, and lost track of the time,” Zero says quickly and smoothly. Damn him. Way to ruin my fun. “And I wanted to see if X would give me back my laser pointer,” Zero adds with a smile, nudging X. X rolls his eyes, but says nothing. He looks a little bashful. I try not to smirk.

I really could not believe it. Though unconventional, these two had been my ultimate source of sexual relief. Whether that fact makes gay, or bisexual, or just a sick, demented pervert, I can care less. Knowing now that the best of the best Hunters are actually in love one another was truly a touching thing, and the more I look at them them, the more obvious it becomes.

And my miniature holding tank thanks them for it.