Passcode: Fuck Simmons

He was not racist. Not against Spanish-speaking people and definitely not against robots. Hell, he was part cyborg himself ever since Sarge had come up with that ridiculous plan. But for some reason, he just couldn’t help the words that fell out of his mouth like a sewage pipe without a cover.


Sure he had mentioned, on countless occasions, that they should sacrifice Lopez or leave the robot behind in order to save their own spineless hides. But that didn’t mean he hated the guy.


He was actually facing said robot right now, the silence ticking upwards to about twenty minutes after he had let yet another racist slur slip past his lips.


“I wasn’t trying to point out that people that speak Spanish sleep all day, Lopez. I mean, you’re a robot, and let’s face it, robots don’t dream.” Simmons tried to explain.


[…] The dark-green armored Red just continued the dead-pan stare he was sending the other, slow death dripping like a promise across the silence.


“Come on, Lopez. I didn’t mean that. You obviously dream, probably not of anything interesting, but you know… you can’t exactly stop complete morons from dreaming either…” His explanations had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Hell, he was so far from the beaten path, that he was practically turned upside down in a ditch somewhere miles away.


[…]


“Okay, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s actually easily explainable. It’s not like you robots have brains, much less feelings.”


All right… open mouth, insert foot. Fuck it, insert a whole freakin’ leg.


Before the maroon soldier could blink, the incredibly strong robot was in his personal space, lifting him a good foot off the ground easily with a tightened fist on the collar of his armor.


[(I will kill you… slowly… painfully…)] Lopez deadpanned in Spanish, Simmons really wishing that hadn’t been one of the sentences he understood.


“I see this has taken a bad turn somewhere…” Simmons lamely tried to joke.


He pushed down the fear he felt rising like bile in his throat.


Griffin walked past the room they were in, giving Simmons the brilliant idea to call out to him. He knew, out of all the soldiers on Blood Gulch, including the damn Blues, Grif was the last person to help him out. In fact, the orange Red was usually inclined to shove Simmons into danger, even if it wasn’t necessary to save his own lazy hide. So this was probably a really fat chance, but what choice did he have?


“Grif! Grif, come here! I think… uh, Lopez needs some help… with some stuff…”


He heard an exasperated sigh before booted steps dragged the orange-clad soldier back within view. He snapped to attention slightly, however, when he noticed Simmons dangling from Lopez’s hold, the silent robot emanating waves of murderous intent from his still form.


“Nah, I think Lopez has got it down. I’ll leave you two to your… whatever the hell you guys are doing.” Grif said cheekily before continuing on his way.


“Grif…” Simmons squeaked out.


When he looked back into the robot soldier’s eyes, he couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his frame.


Shit.


He was so… fuckin’ dead.


His mind went through all of the possibilities, all of the ways he could escape the painful and agonizingly slow death that awaited him. Then he realized Sarge must’ve programmed a failsafe with the Lopez in case he ever went out of control.


“All right, Lopez. You really leave me with no choice…” Simmons trailed dangerously, “Passcode: Stop.”


[…] Lopez did not looked impressed.


“Uhh…” Simmons felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his head, his helmet suddenly a little warm from his slow freaking out of his epic failure. Then again, he wasn’t really a soldier who ever quits while he’s ahead, “Passcode: Halt? Desist? Freeze? Sleep? Oh my god, why are none of these words working!?”


[…estas muy estupido…] Lopez ranted slowly, [(Do you really think Sarge is smart enough to install that kind of a failsafe in my system?)]


“Aw man! Fuck me!” Simmons exclaimed in exasperation, gripping the wrist of the hand currently holding him up.


Suddenly, a voice in English, beeped out from Lopez’s armor, “Passcode: Fuck Simmons. Processing…”


“Wait, that’s not what I said-“


“…processing…”


“Hold on, I didn’t say-“


“Passcode, accepted.”


“…WHAT!??”


Lopez looked just as shocked, managing to emanate a feeling of disbelief from within his green armor. His head twitched.


Without warning, Simmons suddenly found his back slammed against the wall, a silent Lopez pinning him to it.


Shaking his head clear of the black spots from his vision, Simmons frowned, “Dude, Lopez, this is so not cool. What do you think you’re-“


But then the robot began moving. Simmons attempted to intercept it out of gut reaction and fear, but he was pinned between the wall and the robot.


Besides, he had miscalculated the robot’s movements.


All Lopez had in mind was getting closer.


“Fuuuck…” Simmons moaned out slowly, unable to control it as the dark green robot rubbed deeply against his crotch.


The arm he had thrown forward to block faltered against the unexpected move, making it easily caught and immobilized. As the robot continued the grinding motion, Simmons clenched his jaw, attempting to silence himself and not react at all. Unfortunately, his body betrayed him as his hips bucked. When he tried to move it back and away from Lopez, it would hit the solid wall behind him. He had nowhere to go, and the horny robot had no problems taking advantage of that.


“Lopez, don’t-“ The maroon soldier managed once he got his wind, attempting to struggle. But there was hardly any room between his cyborg body and that of the robot.


He couldn’t believe this was happening. And with the robot of all things. If anyone, he would rather have sex with Grif. Wait- what the fuck?! Simmons clearly couldn’t think properly with all this stimulation.


“Don’t make me hurt you, Lopez.” Simmons warned, before pulling back his free fist and slugging the green soldier across the face.


Lopez’s head whipped to the side, but when he slowly trained his eyes back on Simmons, the maroon soldier swallowed. Hard.


He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst. Like maybe being slammed so hard against the concrete wall behind him that he would make a little impact crater. Or maybe have his offending fist forcibly removed.


But he opened his eyes in surprise as he felt his traitorous armor falling off piece by piece. Cool air hit his skin as he struggled, his heated systems shivering from the sudden exposure. Still gripping him with one strong fist, Lopez was busy pressing the appropriate latches and armor release buttons. Before Simmons could blink, he was stripped down to his thin, black body suit that left nothing to the imagination. The chestplate armor, being the piece that Lopez was gripping, was released last.


Simmons dropped a foot to the ground, springing into action faster than he ever had before. His leg swiped the robot and ran without looking back. He was going so fast, he didn’t hear the slam of Lopez’s body hitting the floor until he was already a couple strides away.


He didn’t know how Lopez was supposed to follow the ‘fuck simmons’ code.


Hell, he didn’t even know how robots fuck.


And he definitely didn’t want to find out.


He was about two strides away from the door when he was tackled from behind.


“Shit!” He cursed, falling to the ground hard.


He was too stunned to notice he was flipped over, hands pinned above his head as Lopez took his time to grind in between Simmon’s legs.


The dark-brown haired soldier couldn’t keep the moan in if he tried. At least with the armor on, there was slight resistance to the movement before. With the way he was now, he might as well be naked.


His half cyborg parts glowed and hummed, shining past the thin black material still covering his body. Much to Simmon’s surprise, and even slight dismay, the robot stilled immediately when this happened. He could hear the clogs whirring and clicking in the robot’s head as he looked over Simmon’s body, almost as if seeing it for the first time.


Simmons could have sworn he had told the robot dozens of times that he was part cyborg. Wait, was that even the right term? Part cyborg? Didn’t cyborg already imply that he was partly, if not immediately halfly (is that a word), robotic? Or something.


Simmons was dragged back to reality as he felt the intense stare of the robot through his green helmet.


“As much as I hate to say it, I liked it better when you were doing stuff rather than blatantly stare at me like that…” Simmons trailed off nervously, his anxieties getting a hold of his mouth and running off with it.


But Lopez seemed content to stare at his lips as they moved.


The maroon soldier tensed when he noticed one of the robot”s hands lifting towards his face. He attempted to move away from it, but only ended up bumping into the hand strategically placed next to his head.


“All right, all right. Just staring was fine. Don’t listen to me!” He squeeked, flinching right before the slow moving appendage made contact.


His eyes blinked open with surprise as he felt the fingers merely brushing against his lips. He had stared in the mirror the first time he had seem them too, a slight glow and pattern not unlike those found on the A.I.’s, laced through the soft lines of his lips. They would glow slightly brighter, like the surface of one of those electric balls, at the spot you happened to be touching.


Something he was sure was fascinating the robot at that exact moment. He had touched them before too, that was how he knew.


What he didn’t expect, however, was the slight hum of electricity that emanated from that slight touch. He gasped, not expecting the pleasure that came with it.


He couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him as Lopez continued his slow exploration of Simmon’s lips, his fingers tracing it in an awe-filled trance.


Suddenly Lopez cocked his head, pausing his ministrations. Though he glanced back at Simmons as the maroon let out a groan of frustration.


Hell, if Simmons could, he himself would be staring at, well, himself. I mean he didn’t even want this. He stopped to look over his thoughts, then looked up at the robot staring down at him. His breath hitched.


I mean… he couldn’t want this…


Right?


After a few more heart stopping seconds, Lopez’s suit called out in a mechanical voice, “Passcode Program Override.”


Simmons lay there in stunned silence as the robot shook his head and stood up.


He could do that?


Lopez started walking to the door, his movements sluggish as though he were fatigued.


Simmons didn’t know Lopez could do that! Much less comprehend that a coded program had been pulled over his robotic head.


Of course this time he was smart enough not to say those things aloud.


He sat up, wondering if he had imagined it all when Lopez stopped at the door. The robot paused to take one glance back at Simmons, at which point the maroon soldier felt his heart jump to his throat. Then the robot was gone.


Seconds later, Grif appeared in the doorway, his booted footsteps finally registering in Simmon’s head a few moments too late.


“Uh… Simmons? Do I even wanna ask?” Grif stated aloud, trapped on the verge of needing to know and absolutely refusing to find out.


He saw the maroon soldier’s armor scattered on a nearby wall, Simmons himself sitting on the floor in only his under suit. The man himself seemed a little out of it. Especially since he completely bypassed Grif’s question to ask one of his own, “Does Lopez seem… creepily more in control of himself than we give him credit for?”


“I knew it,” Grif started walking away, “I sure as HELL didn’t wanna know.”


“Wait, Grif!” Simmons ran after the orange soldier, “I have a question for you!”


“I already told you!!” Grif shouted over his shoulder, already sprinting down the end of the hallway, “I DON’T want to KNOW!!!”