Gabriel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jermastrat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
datadiving2025-06-20 11:36 am
jermastrat) wrote in datadiving2025-06-20 11:36 am
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Draped across the bed, bored out of his mind. Not the kind of situation Gabriel ever imagined he'd be in, at any point in his life, ever, but he could add that to the pile of new experiences he supposed. Yeah sure not all of them could be absolute bangers, life wasn't always going to be interesting, that much he'd learned long before everything fell apart but it felt almost insulting to be in another world, another time, and still be fucking bored. An old saying he'd heard a soul pass on to him once before rattled through his brain: boring people are bored, and he scowled at the memory, petulantly kicking a pillow off the bed.
Maybe he could go call on Cassiel. They could spar, or hunt, or talk, or fuck, or anything else, he didn't know. Anything was better than laying here doing fuck all.
The conspicuous lack of the Machine was as ever, not a concern either. Where was it? Well, outside somewhere of course, doing whatever. At this point he'd grown quite comfortable with its presence and conversely, lack of. Whatever trouble it could get itself into was at this point no longer his concern. ... A pleasant enough idea to hold onto at least. It did nothing for the boredom, other than alleviate some of the annoyance swirling around his head thanks to it.
... He really had to find some way to fill his day before he started taking this growing, foul mood out on someone who didn't deserve it, he hates this.
Maybe he could go call on Cassiel. They could spar, or hunt, or talk, or fuck, or anything else, he didn't know. Anything was better than laying here doing fuck all.
The conspicuous lack of the Machine was as ever, not a concern either. Where was it? Well, outside somewhere of course, doing whatever. At this point he'd grown quite comfortable with its presence and conversely, lack of. Whatever trouble it could get itself into was at this point no longer his concern. ... A pleasant enough idea to hold onto at least. It did nothing for the boredom, other than alleviate some of the annoyance swirling around his head thanks to it.
... He really had to find some way to fill his day before he started taking this growing, foul mood out on someone who didn't deserve it, he hates this.
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The words are a little surprising, though. It glances at him, a quick twitch of motion, its eye fixing on his face once more as it draws its hand away. Both hands on his hips now.
It lets itself be tugged closer without resistance, obeying his instructions for once so they're flush against each other. Its auxiliary arms twitch in subconscious protest, but it doesn't seem to intend to use them.
(Yet, at least.)
It taps the hand Gabriel has on its thigh, giving him a more...pointed look. Do you want it to follow instructions or let it free roam, give it some guidance here.
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"Here. Just... stay here." And then just to clarify: "Don't stop touching me I just..." The pink truly was all over his face now, the wings radiating shades of rose and gold in radiant patterns. Gabriel groaned in frustration, trying not to grind into it too openly. "It feels good with you there, alright?" So much for communication, let it not be said he wasn't trying though!
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Unfortunately, V1 also thinks this is funny. Gabriel is usually quite articulate, albeit usually when it's for yelling or condescendingly explaining something, in its experience. It's interesting to see that when presented with this kind of situation, his words begin to fail.
And if there's one thing V1 has a vice for, it's the desire to keep going simply to see what happens. Insatiable, voracious curiosity. And it does have two arms...more than two, even.
Well, then, what else can it do but keep going?
It leans back a little, another calculating sweep of its head as it looks him over. Then it purposefully arranges itself in his lap, its legs hooking neatly over his hips so it can press its body to his more firmly. He'd wanted that, he'd said as much, it's following instructions.
Its wings twitch in what's either excitement or enthusiasm as it slides its parrying hand upward, fingers pressing under his chin and jaw, palm firmly against his throat. The other hand snakes around Gabriel's side to his back, seeking out that sensitive point near his wings, resulting in V1 essentially holding him in an odd, close sort of pseudo-embrace.
The other two arms settle on the angel's knees, not doing anything yet. It's simply a display that it has them there.
If V1 was capable of looking smug, it might. It does, however, give off the distinct air of being proud of itself.
See? I'm paying attention.
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See, he'd asked for it to be closer. He also asked for it to keep touching him. Technically speaking, nothing it was doing here was outside the realm of what he'd specifically asked for and now he's mad about it actually. He'd be madder, but all things considered at present Gabriel was a little distracted. It pressed into him, and Gabriel sharply bucked upwards into it, his breath hitching. "Yes there-"
And then its hand was at his throat. And then it's other hand was at his wings. And then Gabriel forgot where he was going with this as a decidedly far less irritated sounding groan was dragged out of him, gripping its hips with both hands as he shivered under its touch.
Yeah he asked for this, but no one warned him what that would feel like, and who's fault is that really???? He's not exactly maintaining an air of calm control and confidence here anymore, is he?
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It wants more of whatever this is. Not the violence. This other thing.
Maybe it's not as unaffected by giving as it thought it would be.
Its fingers dig lightly into the base of his wings as it applies a bit of blunt pressure, its smaller body moving, grinding against his as it feels his response and delights in it, responding in turn.
It can feel Gabriel's pulse speeding up, a constant drumming against its palm, the fainter but still strong sensation of a heartbeat against its chest. It squeezes lightly, testing its grip, finding itself strangely reluctant to push too hard...whatever that means in this case. The neck was still a sensitive area, probably, it's not an expert.
If Gabriel is a bit dismayed at the way his composure is scattering, V1 doesn't mind at all. It likes this. Gabriel being flustered when angered is funny; Gabriel cutting loose during their fights is, despite the danger, interesting. Compelling.
This, however, is simply fun.
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Hard to concentrate on just that though as it digs its fingers into the base of his wings, letting out a soft, heated moan as it does, finally letting go of its hip to grip the wrist of the hand at his neck. "Harder." He'd let it know if it went too far, and this was not far enough.
"I'm not glass, for fucks sake..." It was the Machine. No matter how tender, no matter how intimate he was getting with it... annoyance in some form was just part of the entire package.
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Its wings flare briefly in annoyance, smacking against Gabriel's legs.
It stops moving as it did before, letting Gabriel grind against it but not returning that movement in kind. The protective shutter over its eye near-closes for a moment as it shoots him an aggravated look.
Fine, if he wants it harder, it can do harder. It clamps its hand around his neck more tightly, increasing the pressure around his throat, drags its fingers from the base of Gabriel's wings down his back as it digs in hard. Its legs lock around Gabriel's hips, pressing them closer together, as if it means to crush him with it.
(It can't; its hydraulics aren't strong enough for that. It's made for running, not wrestling. But despite the annoyance, it's trying, god.)
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thatdesperate, he'd wait.He barely registered the smack, glaring back at it with the same exact energy. "Don't you look at me like that, I'm just saying." Noticeably, this attitude problem of his didn't seem to impact the color of the wings. He might have been annoyed, sure, but that wasn't about to change the fact that he was still very, very much invested in this.
The response it finally gave him was both at once not what he was expecting and everything he'd asked for. Hard to know what to expect though when you had no basis for comparison so maybe that went without saying.
Gabriel jerked, the hand still at it's hip dragging downwards over unyielding metal as he pawed desperately at it. Rolling up into it, a stuttering gasp followed by an extremely unbecoming whine followed its decision to press so hard against him, gold and pink rippling across the wings as they dipped into its hand.
"F-fuck! Ye-Yes that! Li-like that!" Oh look, he's suddenly not mad anymore, how about that.
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Well, Gabriel's not yelling at it any more, so further escalation of hostilities can be temporarily suspended. It grinds its lower body against Gabriel roughly, one hand sliding up to the back of his neck and raking its fingers down in one quick, violent motion. The other hand is still clamped firmly on Gabriel's throat; intermittently, randomly, it squeezes harder, forcing periods of breathlessness before it releases.
Its head swivels back and forth as it observes the consequences of its actions with rapt interest, feeling Gabriel's heart thumping through the thin plating of its chest, pressed together as they are. As if it too had a heartbeat. As if it, too, was a creature of flesh and blood.
(Not even mortal, Gabriel had said once, denounced it so once. This close, it wonders, has the space and fuel to even think, is this softness, this vulnerability, this ability to be undone in this way, is that what mortality means? But Gabriel isn't mortal - isn't human - so maybe this whole premise is flawed. It should throw it out and start again and attack the thought from another angle.
It resists the temptation to delete the entirely useless mental commentary of the last few seconds.)
It drinks in those responses meanwhile, truly and intensely pleased that something it's already really good at at can be applied to something else it doesn't have any experience with. It no longer feels like it's entirely out of its depth.
(Its own wings flicker with distorted color - some misfiring wiring that's never been replaced and it's honestly totally forgotten about, hooked up to respond to strong bursts of neurological activity. It doesn't notice.)
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It was rough, more so than anything he'd ever ask of Cassiel. The idea of requesting something like this from the other angel didn't sit well with him, not with the history the two of them shared. Though, to be fair, Gabriel hadn't even been wholly aware this would be something he'd enjoy, no one else had found themselves in a position quite like this with him before after all. And anyone else probably wouldn't have even been allowed the chance to try, if he had to think about it. What did that say, that he was more willing to let the Machine that could actually kill him wrap it's hands around his neck than any of the mortals here? Probably nothing healthy, he's not going to think about that actually.
He caught the way its wings flickered, finding himself strangely enamored at the thought. Or maybe it wasn't so odd, considering how the wall behind him was lit up in shades of cotton candy and gold.
"Fuck... Fuck." Not terribly eloquent like this at all, was he? Once more, he'd pull at it's hip, trying to angle himself just so against it. It just wasn't quite enough, he needed more actually.
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GOING FOR THAT P-RANK?
INTERNAL COMMENTARY MARKED AS IRRELEVANT
Another flicker of its wing color, another irritable little twitch as it ponders this new problem of sorts. It doesn't actually know a lot about his anatomy, is the thing, and Gabriel is weirdly not being informative right now in favour of being noisy, and he's going to just be even more noisy but also mad if it stops to ask. It's perfectly happy to choke him and keep scraping at his back, he really likes that apparently, but there's something else he wants and isn't getting so it'll have to figure it out.
Fine, it'll have to get creative. It can get creative. It's getting creative right now, isn't it?
Neither of its two available arms are particularly good for blah blah flesh and blood are frailer than steel, but the Whiplash has more flexible fingers, and it doesn't need to use the launcher. It taps at a wing (weird colour now, what's that about, whatever, it'll look over the system logs later, not important) and draws out the revolver, glancing over to it long enough to be noticeable.
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He's trying though. "I just- You're close, it's... Hard to describe-" Yes he did see the body language, yes he did see the twitching of its wings. Gabriel is more than aware that he's failing on the chatter front, but most of the time his partners were just as caught up in the moment as he was, this is a little bit of a new situation alright?
The choice to grab a gun was uh-
"Whatareyoudoingwiththat." ANSWER HIM, MACHINE.
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It stays like that for a moment, and then quite deliberately shifts back so it's not totally pressed against him as it was before. The Whiplash tucks under their two active arms as they put the revolver muzzle down pointing towards the bed yes it understands gun safety between them.
The problem appears to be a lack of specific, directed friction, as far as it can tell. This is what it's got for a solution, by far the safest one given the Whiplash's grappling launcher and the Knuckleblaster's shotgun.
Well, it could swap its arms around, but despite everything it did listen to Gabriel's admonishments and it's trying, okay, it's not like it has experience with this either. Its usual arm has blunt fingers and no additional attachments, it's not trying to rip him apart and that's far easier with the other two extra arms it has.
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"Are you... thinking about using that?" Not in the most orthodox way either, he's sure. How it intends on utilizing it is beyond him, but it's clearly trying to puzzle this whole matter out as best it can and to be fair; he hasn't exactly been the best at communicating so far. Is he going to accept blame for this?
Well. Not out loud.
"Alright, okay look- I... Here." It's a fucking robot, why is he so goddamn awkward about this? It wasn't like V1 cared one way or the other, he could be as crass as he liked! ... Maybe he's the problem.
Gabriel was by this point a bright, vibrant pink, thanks to the wings and just in general as he leaned back on the bed. He dragged his hand away from it, the motion distinctly hesitant, as he rested it on his lower belly. There, it'd slip downwards, his breath hitching as he pressed his middle finger against his clit. Shouldn't be this flustered about it-
"This is... part of what you should be paying attention to." In the most simplistic of terms of course, but it was an excellent place to start. "The majority of it is... it's internal, I don't expect-" Didn't expect it to have the means or desire to actually go that far for an orgasm. "As you can see there's other areas outside that work well in tandem with it." The words sort of jumbled together on that one, his fingers caressing over the top of that oversensitive little bud.
It was impossible to look away from it as he spoke, simultaneously it was so incredibly awkward to keep looking. It was hard to glean precisely what was going through the Machine's head after all, anyone else would have a proper expression to gauge.
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It sits back on its heels to give him room, letting him go completely for the moment. Its head moves, clearly tracking his motions, studying him intently with the focus it usually reserves for trying to not get murdered. Despite the lack of variation in staring, given it was never built to emote, there's a sense of familiarity about the look all the same - that sense of complete and utter attention.
It watches his hands mostly, flicking up its head occasionally to look at the way Gabriel flushes (INTERNAL NOTE: POSITIVE ASSOCIATION//PLEASING?).
It thinks it gets how this works, or at least there's enough there to start with. It could just use its fingers for stimulation, especially internal stimulation, but he seems to want this kind of stimulation and also all the other things it was doing.
Fine. Now it's V1's turn to explain how this is going to work. It grips the revolver tightly, feeling the light pulsing hum of the powered battery, reviewing what it's already learned. Gabriel had responded interestingly even when it wasn't doing anything, and he's warm enough, so it's likely the vibration of its own systems that he found pleasant...
It spins up the mechanism in the Whiplash that usually controls reeling in the cord. There's an audible whirring sound as the motor whines at this unorthodox use, and it watches the revolver vibrate more strongly with satisfaction. Hypothesis tested. Yes, this will work, in short bursts at least.
Without warning or any sort of fanfare, it leans forward again, pressing the revolver (still muzzle down so Gabriel doesn't think it's going to shoot him) between the angel's legs, exactly where it was shown, before activating the motor in its hand again to make the revolver's vibrations increase drastically.
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Gabriel had all the time in the world to sit there and ponder what the Machine intended on doing. Plenty of time to put two and two together and come to a logical conclusion as to where this particular train of thought was headed.
He figured it out very quickly, though granted it was hard to imagine it going any differently, when he saw and heard the vibration go off. There were a lot of occasions where V1's little morse code trick came in handy, but let it never be said the Machine wasn't eloquent enough sometimes without any words at all. Every eye scattered across the feathered half of his face had gone wide, regarding the gun with no small amount of apprehension, nor undeniable, perhaps somewhat unsettling thrill.
If V1 hadn't moved forward with the gun itself, Gabriel might have just grabbed for it and yanked it in anyway. The staccato cry he gave as the vibration shot through his spine peaked, cut off into a muffled, garbled moan as he clapped his hand over his mouth. Too loud, too noisy, it wasn't like anyone was going to come in here to see what the noise was but it was the principle of the thing.
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+CREATIVE
INTERNAL COMMENTARY DISCARDED AS IRRELEVANT.
Actual praise from Gabriel - extremely weird. But again, not bad, not bad at all. Being told you're doing a good job is nice. But much more rewarding is the change in Gabriel's expression, the shift in his mood, that thrill, that eagerness--
//REPLAYING COMBAT FOOTAGE
//AUDIO-ONLY
"Show me what you were made for!"
//ENDING REPLAY
It's reviewed the footage more times than it strictly needed to. Was it 'having fun' in a life-and-death struggle? What was the difference between this and any other fight, since all fights were life and death for it?
The release of adrenalin and dopamine from its limbic system was consistent with enjoyment, if its system logs were accurate. But it doesn't know why. It doesn't know why yet. But it liked it? It liked it.
It practically lunges forward, one hand shooting out to grab Gabriel's wrist, stopping him from covering his mouth completely. It keeps the gun where it is, pulsing the motor in its palm to vibrate the revolver intermittently.
The other hand presses against his throat again, not quite as hard as before. The tilt of its head is less intent, more challenging. It wants this to be reciprocal or it wouldn't be putting in this much effort.
But it's never been that simple between them, has it?
See. I'm listening.
Are you still going to tell me what to do?
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Gabriel gasped, snapping his free hand out to grab at the hand that held the gun, hissing softly. If he could snag it, it wouldn't be to shove it away oh no. There would be an effort to press it firmly to him, bucking his hips sharply into it.
"Do you want them to hear me?" That wasn't an order to stop, that was a genuine question, Gabriel's eyes alight with, when paired with that tone, what could very well be a very familiar energy.
And somehow, against all odds, even with the gun pressed tight against him, he set his jaw and shuddered, letting out only a shaking, heated breath.
"Then fucking earn it. You're creative." He could read that tilt, he knew that body language. If it wanted a different kind of fight, he'd be more than happy to give that to it. "You have the basics now, show me what you can do."
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It doesn't really care about whether anyone hears Gabriel or not. It just doesn't want him to restrain himself, it's more fun if he doesn't. It does not convey this at all, but it does keep a grip on his wrist, not letting him go, if you want your hand back you're going to have to fight me for it.
Well. Not that kind of fighting. But he's going to have to make a stronger argument than that.
It practically perks up at Gabriel telling it to earn it, and then it's tightening its grip on his throat again, as it did before. It considers its options for a moment before it engages its fourth arm and leans over to reach behind him, claws raking lightly across his back. It's more careful with this one than it was with the Feedbacker - it's easier to draw blood with the Knuckleblaster - but that just means the sensation is sharper, which considering everything that's been coming out of Gabriel's mouth in the last five minutes is probably a benefit.
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Gabriel went to try and wrench his free arm back from it, squirming against the gun between his legs even as it raked the claws of its forth arm across his back. It'd leave wheals across his skin, he was sure, but frankly that hardly bothered him in the slightest. The angel went to hitch a leg behind one of its, refusing to release V1's gun hand. Would it be easier to concentrate without it there? Sure, but he didn't really want to concentrate all that hard right now anyway, not if it meant losing the feeling of the metal humming against his cunt.
There was a ploy in mind here, even as he twisted with it. Trying to switch up positions, it seemed, with Gabriel intent on flipping V1 beneath him, hand on his neck be damned.
"Of course this would interest you more." And he doesn't even sound disappointed to say it. "If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get." Doesn't sound disappointed in the slightest, actually.
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This is not exactly what it was made to do or be, but it doesn't matter. It's something new and old at once. It's exciting, something fun.
There's all sorts of things going on in its head right now, first and foremost among them being you like this too.
It's a simple truth, as much as it's one that it can't articulate (its hands are very thoroughly occupied and it's got higher-priority goals to focus on): it's something they both want, and so it's worth putting effort into.
It lets him have the position change, even lets him free his hand as they exchange places and now it's V1 underneath him, wings splayed out, still with that challenging tilt to its head as it stares up at him with full focus.
In return, its clawed hand rakes across his back and side with vicious enthusiasm, its freed hand grabbing his thigh and yanking him down closer. It keeps that one hand still on his throat, though that pressure is more of a reminder than an active threat at the moment as it adjusts for the change in position.
It runs the motor in its hand again, pushes the mechanism harder (it will have to run maintenance later, worth it), for a stronger pulse of vibration as it presses the gun into the angel's cunt.
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Its claws scraped across his back, lines of red drawn in its wake, causing Gabriel to gasp in both pain and indescribable pleasure as V1 yanked him downwards against the gun. The angel would practically ride it, waves of gold rippling across brilliant pink wings as pulse after pulse rocked through him. There'd be a momentary pause in the chatter, Gabriel had sunken his teeth into his bottom lip in a bid to distract himself, suddenly deciding he didn't actually want this all to end so soon. Climax now? And have it all be over? Pass.
"Is that the best you've got?" Bleeding, definitely going to bruise at this rate, but the pain simply failed to register in any detrimental way, if the euphoric smile on his face and the breathless tone of his voice was of any indication.
He had to return the favor, he wouldn't just sit there and receive. Exhaling hotly, Gabriel leaned down, daring it to tighten its grip on his neck further as he slipped a hand behind it to find that old scar. In stark contrast to everything else, that touch was still careful, intentional in its motions as he scraped his blunt fingers over the thin steel.
"You're doing so well... Give me everything you have, don't you dare fucking hold back."
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SYSTEM WARNING: INSTABILITY TARGETED
CHANCES OF ESTIMATED SURVIVAL IF SPINAL CORD IS SEVERED: CALCULATING...
--its entire body shudders, freezes, the fingers of the Whiplash tightening on the handle of the gun, its eye shuttering, another bolt of adrenalin issuing from its limbic system in anticipation of pain or worse--
QUERY// DO YOU TRUST SOMEONE THAT HAS TRIED TO KILL YOU TWICE?
ANSWER// YES
?
--the moment of tension only lasts a breath, a fleeting second, and then it loosens its grip and relaxes into that touch, that pleasant feeling, cooling fans whining.
It can't shut off the things that help to keep it alive, but it can ignore them. It will ignore them. This is a higher priority, right now, than simple calculations of survival.
This is worth the risk. SHUT UP IN THERE ALREADY.
Back to more interesting things. Gabriel had challenged it, it's hardly going to stop there - it's still pulsing the gun, its clawed hand resting on his hip and digging idly in.
But in the interests of not making the angel think he'd been too hard on it, something he weirdly cares about a lot in this context considering what he'd been talking about earlier (and talking, and talking, boy Gabriel talks a lot, but not like it's using that memory storage for much else), it uses its free hand to grasp Gabriel's arm, giving it a light tap, the way it had tapped his hand before.
Keep going.
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"I'm... Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." In an instant, all of that energy had been quickly pushed aside, temporarily doused as V1's response took full priority.
Though it was hard (and soon impossible) to maintain that moment of clarity and calm, as it dug its claws into his hip, the pulse of the gun burning through what little amount of self-restraint he happened to have. His hips shook from the effort of trying to just stay still, refusing to make another move until he'd received complete consent.
It was really the tap that sealed it for him, Gabriel letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. At V1's urging, his hand slid back again, as he leaned down to press against the Machine wholly, locking his knees around it at both sides as he rocked into the gun with obvious desperation. Gently, he was sure to keep his hand gentle there, V1 was free to shred him all it liked, Gabriel wasn't about to abuse that little vulnerability it had shown him. Gentle, but firm, massaging the thin metal between his thumb and forefinger as he mumbled to it softly, his face near to its neck.
"I don't want to hurt you. Not like this, not here..." Gabriel wasn't given to lying, and now was no exception; if he was reassuring it, then he meant it.
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It's...probably not hallucinating.
It doesn't...want to claw at him if he's not alight with that shared passion for violence. It traces light circles on his hip instead, idly noting how its claws drag across his skin with less friction due to the blood it's drawn from him. Only temporary, but it's a strange sensation.
Its eye shutters again as it awkwardly presses the side of its head to Gabriel's cheek. Giving, trying to give, in return for that allowance, that strange promise of no future violence (it wonders if they will do this again). It has no reference for this -- but it wants to learn. Instead of continuing to choke him, its fingers rub against the thin skin of his throat, the side of his neck, exploratory rather than aggressive as it continues upward in a sort of petting motion. (His hair is so soft. It's almost distracting.)
The motion of how it's pushing the gun between his legs is gentler now, if only slightly; it moves with his rhythm, trying to match the way he rides it, trying to time those pulses to give him the most pleasure, listening to the way his breath stutters to determine it.
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