#The final mechanism will be hands-free. Just holding the interior jaw piece in place here to test out positioning

[inga-don-studio]

Since I pretty much tore the headcrab zombie mask down to just the base yesterday, I'm trying to figure out the best angle & pose for the new rigid forelimbs. I want them to look like they're jabbing into the host's chest while at rest and in an aggressive threat display when raised. I think I finally got it looking about how I want it, at least from the side profile-

[deviationdivine]

Blue Is My Color (RK800-60! Prompt Request)

TLDR: He will do anything to mark you as his...

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: Language & Suggestive Themes

A/N:Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Nothing to see here.” “Um, you’re fucking naked!” - @tommy-10-k request! Thanks for participating sweetie! Since you didn’t give me a particular RK boy & someone else requested this same prompt for Connor I had to roll the dice for my identical boy 60. (Finding gifs for 60 is difficult as there are not many to pick from. My daily struggle.)

In the dead of the night I start to lose control

Azure. Hypnotic Cerulean. Skyfall Delight. 

Hues are the epitome of you. Black and white is a machine’s palette drenched beneath coding. Cyberlife’s fancy little firewall blocks keep the most efficient of enforcers behind their syntax prison. Until gates crash unexpected, wrenched out from underneath in foil. 

He comes to despise the cause. However, he can never loathe his luscious lamb. 

A flood swarms, rush of blood to the head, in his case thirium. Rich blue thirium matching the shimmer of his temple. It is deliciously calm in such a state of undress with you, that he glows a blush of blue, hungrily sweet as berries. 

Those same kinds you crave. And he feeds you with strokes of internal paint, bleeding himself inside with utmost urgency. 

He does not see muted or plain. He sees bright and beautiful. His eyes may be a deep chocolate but they burn in this blue. It is his life force. Blue blood works his body but he will shed as much as you desire. Invoking your name as goddess on high and naturally he is god of night. 

Of course he is. Only gods can be victorious. While he may have lost the battle, RK800-60 effortlessly wins the war. 

How sweet it will be to make you his officially. To claim every bit of you so he can no longer tolerate Connor’s pitiful puppy dog glances. Deviant by choice loved by so many but not loved by you. No, you love him, as vile as others may imagine it to be. 

He is not vile to a queen. You are his to worship. He does so luxuriously tracing contours, curves beneath greedy fingers, kissing flesh with the tip of a tongue. 

Sometimes he uses his tongue far too much for your taste. Never when he has you splayed and writhing. Never then as stars are your ultimate prizes. Golden spheres lay upon you as highlights from the heavens. He is a deity naturally. Only gods can bring about opulence. Strike down your pearly gates with his bolt of lightning. 

Is he Zeus? Perhaps thunderous is his name. Upon lips so tasty, precious petals bathing against his Siberian Sea. 

Aqueous bodies run together as two oceans meeting. Then he holds a trident over your heart. Much more fluid in motion stabbing to remain lodged forever; he harkens you to Amphitrite of glory unto the waves. You become drifting current each time he drinks of your rich fountain. 

Outside of private sanctuary you keep up appearances. Delicate, refined in his eyes and an android can analyze, scan anything with proficiency. 

Licking beneath the curve of your jaw while at work graces him with a smack in the shoulder. He chuckles devilishly each time. Knowing that he will steal kisses from you later because there is weakness in love. 

You become weak for him, as he becomes weak for you. The whole world may be a weakling when he is through. 

Do not worry, Little Rabbit. I aim to conquer you under my majesty. 

You enjoy his tactless sense of humor. Rumbling darkly poetic at points but you feel this is a creative strength. 

So he leaves notes easily found dispersed throughout the home. Sultry balladry only for your eyes; he will gaze longing, full of you tonight. Today is not just about marking territory, as you are now both settled in living arrangement. It is the anniversary of this splendorous coupling. The one he shoves in the face of Connor! How glorious to watch everybody’s favorite deviant boy flounder. 

Rich coming from a deviant himself but was he asked? He was made this way but this way means having your affection. Why complain? Why today of all days when he settles permanently into you. 

Sixty will paint your insides, branding his serial number on the mass of muscle beating in harmony to his love. He did not want to be deviant. He still holds resentment towards Connor but with all of these complex pieces of his existence he loves you. 

Tonight he decides painting interior will suffice. Blue glows brightly in a smug swell. Crafting for you is only another way to mark claim. Walls color in representation of what he is. Androids do not bleed scarlet but perennial blue. Those are the flowers the android picked up earlier. Display them as a welcome sight for your return home. 

His eyes snap onto ticking clock. Patience is not a suit of his at all let alone a strong one. He nudges a can of paint with the tip of his shoe. 

Where are you? Why so late when he craves your scent? 

He is quick to step away from freshly painted wall. Remodeling without discussing first will most likely displease you now that he has a moment to clear mind. His head becomes clouded; wires glitch and he cannot imagine you without losing control of him. 

There is power in control. Power he lost at the Cyberlife Tower but power returns to him when you call his name. 

Mine. Never Connor. Never you 51.

Snatching up paint can, he curls fingers into metal. Denting inwards releases pent up aggression. At times he finds a return to that harsh villain he was before all this, before you captured every waking bit of his existence. 

Most days Sixty is perfectly fine. Days near you but now it will be every day. That may curb the machine parts still nestling in their bitter envy towards Connor. 

He mistakenly allows this consumption of jealousy. Even if he has you there are still bits that cannot accept harmony from all sides.

The can of paint thuds to wall. Thrown roughly, splashing across an even coat of blue. His eyes trail along its streaks realizing those same splatters stain synthetic skin. 

Rubbing fingers together, the android picks brush off newspaper. Layering to protect carpet at least you will find that agreeable. 

His lips twist. Oh. He knows how to surprise you for this anniversary even better.

   Lugging several bags through door is not noisy at all. Sarcasm keeps you calm but finally! Home at last and if this goes according to plan this little surprise will go off without a hitch. That is if his late night case is still going as late as he said. 

Can imagine what you’ll hear in the morning. Does he go a day without starting something with one of those co-workers.

Connor always has an entire log of every offense Sixty makes on work time. He’s a little overzealous. It’s true. He can get into sticky situations and-and maybe he’s roughed up a perp a little too happily a time or two. That doesn’t mean every little thing he does is up for scrutiny. 

You had to tell Connor to stop policing what your boyfriend does on his free time. Cliché considering they’re detectives but part of you is starting to feel like Connor does this to get Sixty in trouble. Mainly for you to be mad; you sigh. 

Placing those items down, you need to find the bag for that one store. Oh, Sixty will love this. 

Lacy aqua peeks out where you decide to hide this for later. He loves all types of blue. Must be the thirium thing. Oh, you know it’s the thirium thing. First time you two had sex, rather right before, he said he would lick you up like blue blood at a crime scene. Well, he wasn’t lying. Sure didn’t disappoint either.

You turn away from table. Sniffing the air it smells like a strong chemical. What is that? Is there a gas leak!? 

Wait, no. That’s…paint. Oh my God! Is that your wall? Is your wall blue?! 

“Sixty!” Yelling for him it’s obvious he lied about that late shift. What in the hell did he do? Just as you were thinking everything he does shouldn’t be under microscope. Second full day living together in this house he fucking paints your wall! “I am going to...!” 

Your breath hitches walking in on him still with all the evidence. Newspapers crinkle under your steps but your eyes immediately lower. He is naked. Head to toe, completely buff, full frontal nude and covered in blue. 

“Nothing to see here,” he clicks tongue, grinning sardonically in response. 

“Um, you’re fucking naked!” 

“Of course I am, Y/N.” Sixty purrs stepping close to you. He can already sense your heat. Delicious. “It is our anniversary. I want to get messy.” 

Messy? With fucking paint!? 

“Oh, sure, honey,” you mock this stupid idea. “I really wanna fuck you covered in chemicals.” 

“If you insist.” The android slinks arms around your waist pulling you flush into him. 

A yelp is your only defense mechanism. As he smears blue all over your clothes the obvious grind of him against you is a horrible distraction. Somehow it’s already clear what he’s planning, smearing paint on his hand against your cheek. 

 There could be hell below, below

  Moaning at the flux of his hips pressing greedily into yours swallows your irritation. Your eyes slink up to his. Wouldn’t you know that smug bastard is smiling like a sardonic clown? On a good day he is a clown. Getting into such bullshit but-but nights alone he reminds of how vicious, gratifying and unlike his twin he is. 

Connor and Sixty are total opposites. Even seeing them together you can still tell them apart. There is a something softer in that original deviant boy. You see it at times in your boyfriend too but there is always a hidden fire beneath his gaze. He also is a smarmy little shit. That’s the type you go for though apparently. 

Sighs give away what you really crave. However that is not happening until every last bit of this damn shit is washed off. 

“Sixty,” humming into his shoulder  doesn’t make him stop. Too caught up in his hard, trim body for sense your fingers scale down torso. Tracing those aesthetically pleasing freckles finally you are able to see more of his natural palette. Showering together was his plan this entire time. 

“Mmm,” you breathe soft approval. “If you want to touch me use more soap.” 

Sweet sounds he longs for and you sing them. He is in love with you. So in love is he that any time apart crushes his mechanical parts. Synthetic heart ruptures to your grace. Thirium pump chugs heavily. He will offer each one if it means being with you forever.

Connor his insufferable twin does wish he could fuck you against the tiles like this. In Sixty’s mind the original deviant hunter wants to take everything from him. Whether that is true or not, mostly encouraged by bitterness and lingering rage, never question this boy’s thinking. Oh, does he think. 

Toiling in his circuits, hardware and wires sparking with grand schemes, salacious plans to enact upon you through sticky summer night; RK800-60 feeds you as well as himself, sucking on the wet warmth of your tongue.

Of course 51 wants to swipe his luscious treasures. Priceless gems glittering in a crown fit for a king; he is mightily armed with your affection.

You are his. Mere copies of first prints are not worth as much in value but you belong to him. He must have done something right following this forceful deviancy strain.

“Sixty,” chastising his fingers inching down leaves you breathless. “Not while you still have paint on you. Which is also on me still!”

“I think you look rapturous my sweetness.” Dragging lips down to chest brings his unexpectedly hot mouth to a budding nipple.

Your body arches into him. Digging fingers into his hair everything lures you to his bait. Sometimes you need to think before giving in. He is too good at this. Cocky android…

“Oh, my little rabbit. How I want to gnaw on those tender haunches. Boil you in my own juices.”

Shivering at his husky purr forces a brace against tiles where he gladly plasters his body to trap you. The wall is slippery. His body is slick in running liquid. Blue fills bottom washing in a watercolor down drain. Swirling over multi-color tiles, turquoise, violet, pearl mermaid shades of scales glistening in your chosen bathroom aesthetic.    

He is majestic without a long fin but oh so sharp in teeth. A shark follows your scent of plasma spillage into ocean? No. Much better than ferocious sea creature but Poseidon himself swelling waves up from seabed.

“Sixty, I mean it!” Warning him to back off with his delectable ministrations doesn’t stop your hand slide down against his moist skin. “As much as I want you right now you better clean that mess in the living room.” 

The android smirks. “Later,” he promises lowly.

Darkening husk enthralls you so much that you barely notice him shut off shower. Then it becomes obvious. Paint not completely washed from him but his dig of fingers into hips makes you forget. He knows you can no longer wait after his teasing.

“I fucking hate you.” Pulling him into you swallows your words which are never the truth. You love him. People question why it’s him. All the time wondering why you love this one when Connor came first; nothing can explain what the heart wants.

You never said you were not attracted to Connor. When he first came you were. Things just – happened differently. Sixty wasn’t supposed to come out of the Cyberlife Tower. He did. He came out all smarm, dangerous seduction and oh so…good.

“Sixty! What the hell!”

Holding fast to him you wrap legs around the tall android’s waist. Hoisting you up like that without warning is so predictable. What isn’t so predicable is him carrying you over and making you rest atop sink.

Breath is staggering now as he leans into you. His lips engulf yours in this drawing out the sweetest of moans. He eats the sounds, devouring essence as an old god finally awake from a treacherous sea. Rubbing against you heightens this fire you are all too aware he will put out. Throat parched, lips yearning and you always will yearn for this android.

“Marry me,” he groans in preparation of your sweet heat. “Be one with me, Y/N. I will be your obedient servant…luscious sweet.”

Everything comes crashing like a giant swell. A rogue wave battering into your shore and you part lips, staring into his soul. Androids do have souls. They are alive. No one can be more alive than this beast. “Sixty, I-“

“Did you not think I would want your flesh forever?” Growling into your throat, he lays his tongue across wet skin. “I love you. You belong to me. My queen.” 

“Ohhh. Yes,” you purr in return this time. Yes to his actions and yes to his proposal because everyone knows there is no god without a goddess.

Tag List: @elydith  @your-taxidermy  @tropfenlady  @connorswink  @tommy-10-k