THE DREAM MACHINE -- NC-17
FOR jehane_writes, BECAUSE SHE IS AMAZING.
[title] The Dream Machine
[author] kissontheneck (a.k.a. fieryrogue)
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] aohatsu, who really knows how to jab that beta stick
[rating] NC-17
[word count] 6225
[summary] Looking to the stars, one can easily fall in love. And once one falls in love, the desire to touch can become overwhelming.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Cyberpunk virtual sex. Quasi-prostitution and/or brothel-like setting, top!Archie
[author's notes] I don’t even know how this happened. I mean, aohatsu and I were talking about writing and kinkmemes and… remixes? Then one of us said something about doing porn!remixes and the other was like, "OMG, what if you did a porn!remix of-" and the next thing I know I’m trampling around in jehane_writes’s fabulous Somewhere Out There universe without permission and mucking everything up. (It seems everyone wants to have their way with her AU, as it were. Ahem.) But I hope she forgives me, and most of all likes it, and um, I love her?
THE DREAM MACHINE
In 2508, the Star was shot into orbit around the Earth, a naked light and a twinkling wish for anyone who seeks him.
On Tuesdays, David's friends Michael and Carly stop by the coffee shop during his lunch break to visit. They're in the music program at his school too, and to be honest he kind of envies their natural talent. Michael sings in a way that's sort of similar to the Star's, but smoother, not so edgy, and Carly, well - it's impossible not to use terribly cliché terms like out of this world to describe her abilities.
So as today is a Tuesday, David clocks out for lunch at the same time as Brooke, his co-worker who wears her hair in long golden plaits, and they go out into the dining area to secure a table big enough for four. As much as David loves his job, he sort of wishes they'd meet at other places sometimes, but Michael and Carly find the coffee shop so quaint and are ever amused by how they still use scissors to open bags of coffee and things like that.
As soon as Michael and Carly come in the door, David notices Carly has blunt-cut her bangs again, striping them hot pink against her naturally dark hair. Michael, as usual, has his zPod99 flooding his ears with who even knows what sort of music. They cross to David and Brooke’s table and plop themselves down into the two empty chairs.
"You guys," Michael says loudly over his music, "I just got the new datastream from Pinball Time Machine, have you heard it yet?"
"For goodness sakes, Mike," Carly says, frowning and tugging at his audio connectors, "turn that off before you shout at us. We can hear you just fine."
"Wasn’t that just released today?" Brooke asks as she unwraps her sandwich from the neighboring Classic Deli.
"Like ten seconds ago," Carly answers, rolling her eyes. She glances to her companion, who is still doing a ridiculous dance in his seat despite having now stopped the music. "You should've seen him, hovering over the download button on his data device all through class. I'm not letting you transfer my notes, by the way."
"You guys should get it," Michael says, apparently ignorant of Carly's comments.
"How can you afford all those datastreams all the time?" Brooke asks, and David wonders the same thing. They're all students, which if anything hasn’t changed over the last millennia it's that students are indefinitely poor.
"You guys download stuff," Michael replies casually.
"Not as much as you," Carly says, agreeing with her friends. "You download everything. How do you eat?"
"You always buy me lunch," Michael says cheekily and Carly makes a face. "You just downloaded something yesterday, what was it?"
"Well, for starters, that's different because I don't download every random piece of junk that comes across the data waves," she answers, "and it was Joni Mitchell for your information."
"Right," Michael replies, shaking his head. "Ancient history."
"I'm studying twentieth century music, you know that!" Carly defends. "And if it weren't for the twentieth century you wouldn't have Racecar Time Lords or whatever now."
"Pinball Time Machine!" Michael corrects, and David shares a giggle with Brooke. The band had recently hit the waves with the smash song "Grazing In The Astrolounge" which was so formulaic in structure that David couldn't believe any music student would take it seriously at all. Michael glances at them, narrowing his brow.
"Oh sure, everyone's music tastes are better than mine. What about you, Brooke? David?"
Brooke sort of shrugs, saying, "I don’t really remember. Let's see, I guess it might have been the Starlight Train data from a couple months ago? Unless the Ajax Alexander stuff was released after that..."
She trails as she thinks, and Michael shifts his attention to David. David, of course, remembers exactly the last thing he downloaded, in lieu of spending credits on a new Atmospheric Jacket like he so desperately needs.
"Dave Cook," he mumbles into his sandwich. Michael eases back into his chair, rolling his eyes.
"Of course," he replies. "I don't know why I even asked. Is that guy even human?"
"Dave Cook was born in the Caeruleus Therme Quadrant," David informs matter-of-factly, annoyed that not only has he said this a thousand times before, but that it also shouldn't really matter. "So yes. Eight days before me on December 20. Well, in 2482, not the same year, but you know what I mean."
"Aww, born under the same star, that's sweet," Michael teases, and even Carly chuckles at that.
"Well, no," David corrects. "See, the twenty-first is the last day of the Sagittarian cycle, and I'm in the Capricorn cycle. Though Dave Cook was very close to being born on the Cusp, so-"
Michael outright laughs now, and Carly can't help but join a little. Brooke leans over to David, squeezing his knee.
"Davey," she whispers as Michael and Carly elbow one another playfully. "Maybe dial it back a little on the Star's complete life history? You know I love to talk with you about the Star, but these guys…"
Oh. David doesn't always realize when he's talking about the Star too much, or when other people are laughing at him instead of with him. If he doesn't have Brooke by his side he can really get himself into a lot of trouble.
"Hey, David," Michael says, and when David looks up he sees that Carly is pawing at his arm hissing, "No, man, no. I was just kidding!"
But Michael completely ignores his friend's pleas and goes on anyway. "You know what you should do, buddy? What everyone does who is as enamored with a Star as you are."
"Come on, Mike, stop teasing," Carly says. "He’s never even been to one."
"I know!" Michael says. "And that's even more of a tragedy!"
"Been where?" David asks, though realizes he shouldn't have when Brooke's fingers dig tighter into his knee.
Michael leans forward on his elbows and takes a long sip of the soda he'd brought in with him. "David, buddy, you need to take all your obsessive energy about the Star and have yourself an enjoyable evening at a holohouse."
"All right, that’s it," Brooke declares, standing abruptly. "David and I need to get back to work and you two-"
"It’s just a suggestion, Brooke!" Michael defends, grinning. "Like you haven't been to a holohouse. We know how much you love John Mayer. That guy's not even alive anymore!"
David gets pulled up out of his seat by Brooke, who doesn't let go until they're both back behind the counter refilling bins of coffee. David waits all of two minutes before he breaks Brooke's angry silence.
"You’ve been to a holohouse?" David asks as he sweeps up a few beans he spilled on the counter.
"Of course," she answers as she struggles to open a new bag of Galactic Empire Roast. "Everyone has."
"I haven't," David replies, honestly.
"And there's nothing wrong with that," Brooke says. She jabs at the bag with the end of her scissors, clearly frustrated with its lack of cooperation.
"But there’s nothing wrong with going either," David points out. He clasps his hand over hers and carefully takes the scissors from her before she hurts herself.
"Oh, David," she sighs, letting him relieve her of the bag of coffee beans and cut it open easily himself. "No, there's not. You know everyone goes. I'm just annoyed that those guys think it's so funny that you haven't. I know you treasure doing in-person activities, and I don't want you to be embarrassed."
David pushes the open bag back towards his co-worker and returns the scissors to the appropriate drawer. "I'm not embarrassed," he says.
Brooke smiles kindly, pushing a loose blonde lock behind her ear. "Good," she says. "That makes me feel better. You wanna come over after work and study for our Musical Theory exam? We can jack into the Star's stream while we do it."
"Yeah, sure," David says. "It's a date."
~*~
Holohouses are very clean, and everyone goes to them, probably even the Star when he was on Earth. Society having long ago gotten over the taboo of casual sexual encounters, the City itself established the holohouse industry and even promoted the practice of intimate encounters with holographic people as "a stimulating mental exercise in fantasy" and "just like the real thing, but as safe as abstinence." That, at least, couldn’t be denied - the rate of sexually transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies had plummeted, and the in-person prostitution rings had nearly become extinct.
There's a holohouse right at the end of David's apartment block, owned by the most well-known chain in the industry, Dream Machine. According to advertisements and customer accounts, Dream Machine has the largest and nicest facilities, the most expansive and up to date hologram selection on the market, and the most reasonable prices too. David passes this location every time he goes to work, though he hasn't given a lot of thought to it. Holohouses are as common as Starbuckscorp dispensaries, so even with their blinding flashing lights and reverberating club music leaking out into the street, it's easy to pass one by without even being distracted from your data device reading.
On Fridays, David doesn't have any classes, and on every other Friday he doesn't have work, so he usually spends them the way other people spend every day - jacked into his favorite channel and being lazy. But on this particular Friday he's pretty bored - the 23rd Century Channel is having an historic sports marathon, ModernTech is more tedious than he can handle, and even the Star's feed is getting repetitive. It turns out the Star's capsule strayed into some asteroid gas cloud or something and has had interference ever since. That was a week ago, so they've been rerunning old streams until he emerges out of it. Should only take another day or so, apparently, if the InfoTicker along the bottom of the screen is to be believed. David's re-watched the Star burning his toast at least a dozen times now.
Then again, David has been pretty distracted as well. Even though Brooke had been trying to protect him from unnecessary teasing on Tuesday (and had been right about everything as usual), he hadn't been able to get Michael's comments out of his brain. He hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't embarrassed, and he didn't feel pressure to do what everyone else did either. But just the idea of a holohouse visit stuck in his thoughts like butterscotch in someone's teeth.
To be honest, he doesn't know why he's never gone before now. He loves the Star after all, and has dreamed of touching him even just briefly. People who visit the holohouses attest to being convinced they were in-person, so obviously it would be just like having the Star at his fingertips. It at least couldn't be any worse than the dreams he already has most nights of the year.
The Star's channel loops again and David makes a decision. Yanking hard on his jack to disengage it, he quickly puts on his old, thinning jacket, grabs his ID case, and slips out into the darkening evening.
Even with all the virtual technology embedded in everyone's everyday lives, Friday nights still manage to drag people out of their living cubicles for in-person entertainment. Though lots of places still have virtual performers streamed into their bars, there are a few in-person joints, and the novelty is still a decent seller in the general public. Either way though, the street is occupied more than usual as people make their way to the Moonbeam Lounge and Andromeda's Palace.
And the Dream Machine, of course.
Hands in his pockets, David slips in among the throng bustling at the entrance, crowding each other to browse the ticker that snakes around the eaves, advertising new additions and software updates. Someone near him gets excited about the addition of her favorite LiveFilm actor, and for a moment David thinks she might faint right at his feet.
The line moves relatively quickly, and before he knows it David has escaped the loud music being pumped outside. Inside it's relatively calm, with soft blue neon tracing the hallways that spread out in every direction like a spider's web. It's quieter too, which David is thankful for. The blatant glitz and glamour outside is clearly for drawing attention, which seems to work perfectly.
Everyone at the holohouse seems to already know the procedure, which unnerves David for a moment. But it only takes a minute of observing those in front of him to see that every few minutes a light over one of the hallways turns a solid green and the next person waiting rushes towards it, an AutoSensor detecting their passing and turning the light back to red. Twenty minutes later and David is at the front of the line, feeling a little bit nervous, actually. He's sure he'll probably trip over his own feet on the way to the available hall, drawing all sorts of attention to himself. That's something he could definitely do without.
He's staring blankly in the wrong direction when a skeevy man behind him pokes him in the shoulder, pointing to a hall in the opposite direction.
"You gonna go, man? 'Cause I wouldn't mind gettin' my hands on Magnolia Silverstar a few minutes early, if ya know what I mean."
David stares for a second, then bolts towards the green-lit hall as quickly as possible. He hears the AutoSensor beep softly, and now realizes there's an Invisible Shield closing behind him.
The hall is even quieter than the lobby, and the neon lights even bluer. Door after door line either side of the hall, each with glowing red lights above them. From this David figures he's supposed to search for the room with a green light waiting for him. After walking for what seems like ages, David passes an exhausted looking man just coming out of his room. The light hasn't turned from red to green yet, David guesses because it takes some time to reset or something. He does manage to see into the room though before the autodoor closes completely - chintzy looking furniture and lots of red velvet decorates the room from floor to ceiling.
At last David reaches the green-lit room and finally feels a sliver of familiarity. Along the right side of the autodoor is a standard payment panel, with a strip of glowing lights indicating where he should slide his identification card. David reaches for his ID case as a digital message parades across the door, "This room is: AVAILABLE."
It occurs to David now that he's not exactly certain how much this is going to cost him, and he skims the panel for any kind of pricing information. He'd picked up an extra shift the week before, so hopefully that would cover it - he isn't exactly in the mood to have the words "REJECTED" flashed at him on his first trip to a holohouse.
He fingers his card as he searches the panel, finally seeing a standard rate of 450 credits per hour. David had made about six hundred credits on that extra shift, so he's relieved that the session is at least somewhat within reach for people like him.
David's hand goes clammy as he quickly swipes his identification card through the slot, the reality that he's about to pay for sex with a hologram of the Star really starting to hit him. Other people might find it perfectly normal, but David's still a little anxious. A hesitation in the card reading causes his heart to come up in his throat, but a second later the little light above the slot flashes green and the autodoor slides breathily to the right. Shoving his card aimlessly into his back pocket, David steps inside, greeted by the same red velvet-rich setting he'd glanced from the room down the hall, apparently the standard setting. The throw pillows trimmed with thick gold cord and the blinding crystal chandelier are almost too much to bear.
In the middle of the room hovers a transparent 360 holoscreen, with little blips of acid green pixels streaming from floor to ceiling in wait. David's only seen these types of holoscreens a couple times, so he kind of admires it a moment before approaching. Finally, he reaches his hand out, his fingers disturbing the web of light into tiny skipping droplets, like moondust on the lakes of Zandar 10. A generic but kind-faced holowoman appears in the mass, her hair streaming behind her in an artificial wind.
"Greetings, David Archuleta," she says, her voice as warm as a real person's. "I am Lola, and I will help you choose your fantasy today." Digital words begin to build up a virtual menu around her, streaking in from every direction. "We will first choose your place setting and color scheme, then music, lighting and finally your holomate."
Lola guides him patiently through all the options, and David is quick to replace the velvet-heavy monstrosity of a setting with smooth leather couches and a crackling fireplace. For music he avoids the temptation to bring up the Star's latest datastream, and instead selects some soft piano concertos that remind him of home.
"Now we choose your holomate," Lola says kindly, and David feels his heart rate increase again. He's about to meet his Idol, his Star, and even in a virtual setting that's a little nerve wracking. "You may choose a Premade, which includes all celebrities and other known figures, or you may Build From Scratch."
David chooses the Premade option and again everything trickles away to be replaced by a new screen, overwhelming with choices. He traces his fingers up the menu, the category heads pulsing hopefully as he passes each by. Astro-athletes, Earth Politicians, VRTV Personalities… The words slip through his fingers until he's finally presented with what he's been looking for - he holds the stream steady for a moment, the letters pulsing alluringly until he finally pokes his index finger through the word Stars.
A massive data load flies into the virtual field, downloading every Star of the last millennia. A parade of alphabet letters marches across the top and Lola's voice reads the instructions, "Here you may browse for your holomate by genre or by directly searching by surname."
David pokes the glittering third letter of the alphabet, which immediately whisks the old menu away, to be replaced by a list of every C-named Star anyone has ever heard of on Earth or elsewhere. Though he has the option to type the name in directly, David takes his time scrolling through Chase, Colin, Conrad… until he reaches COOK, DAVID R: Star of Caeruleus Therme Quadrant, human male, age 29, rock god.
After a deep breath, David again pokes the menu, and a new window pops open, the bottom half packed with paragraphs of biography, the top left column listing basic descriptors like HAIR: Brown and EYES: Blue. And in the right column a little digital preview renders in low-res dots a spinning 360 miniature of the Star radiating like the center of the universe.
David blinks a moment, slightly enamored even by the small, sketchy image of his Star. Slowly, he reaches out, reaches out to touch the Star as if he's real, and is slightly startled when he disappears instead. The holoscreen blanks, then a line streams across, its length building as the percentage loaded creeps toward 100%. It hangs around 96, making David's heart stop until it finally rolls into 97, 98, 99...
One hundred flashes briefly, then a crystal clear high resolution image blasts across the holoscreen, in Real Colour now, stretching to fit the Star's height, weight, cranium circumference. A standard outfit of flannel and denim materializes around the frame as the Star's swirling tattoos slink down his arms, dripping as if the ink is still wet. The Star awakes, blinks, then smiles.
"Hello, David," the Star greets, and the voice is impeccable. Of course, the real Star has submitted voice samples to hundreds of sources, and the sound manipulators can pick out every tone and nuance and make the Star speak flawlessly in an alien language if they want to. In fact, it's an option in the sub-menu floating lazily near the Star's right shoulder.
"Hello," David replies timidly, diverting his eyes, but then chastises himself for doing so. There's no reason to be embarrassed in front of the holoStar, but David is also a little intimidated by how incredibly realistic he is. David thought for sure there'd be some sign - a little imperfect blip, perhaps - to remind him the difference between truth and fiction.
"At this point you may enter any alterations you wish," the Star informs David as the options brighten next to him. "Dress, hair color, language, measurements, et cetera. You may also choose Original Settings, or exit and choose another holomate."
David stares up at the Star wondering how he could suggest such a thing. Who would change this perfect formation of stardust, he doesn't know. He watches a moment as the Star blinks patiently, forever ready for his next command.
"Original settings," David answers and now every other stray pixel vanishes, leaving him alone with the holoStar, who grins and tilts his head and steps forward.
"Only thing left is to put on the Vision Mask and attach the Psychic Link nodes to each of your temples, then we're ready to go." The Star sounds so friendly, so willing. Despite being a virtual prostitute, he isn't dirty or lewd or condescending.
The holoStar folds his hands together while David finds the Vision Mask on the little table at one side of the room. It's a far cry from the original VR units that were large and clunky helmets that squashed a person's hair. Not that David remembers any of that, but he's been to the Museum of Virtual History and seen the artifacts. Now the Vision Masks are just a little crescent of fabric large enough to cover the eyes, a thin elastic strap to hold in place over the ears, and two thin wires with sticky pads the size of ancient metal coin credits on the ends. Carefully, David sticks the nodes to his forehead, pulls the VM over his eyes, and takes a deep breath.
It's dark for a nanosecond - the instant of everything connecting to his brain waves - and then the Star is there before him again, seemingly happy to see he has arrived. He reaches out his hand and grips David's elbow lightly, the slight pressure of his rough fingertips tangible on his skin.
"Do you feel me, David?" the Star asks, and David blushes at the inappropriate thought that somehow sneaks into his brain. Remembering that those thoughts now run the show, he tries to clear it, nods as he says "Yes," then nods again.
"Then we're completely synced," the Star informs him, letting David's elbow slip out of his grasp. There's a beat where something intangible happens, a shift of energy that pulses silently, and later David would look back to realize it was the moment the autopilot switched off, and Dave Cook, Star of Caeruleus Therme Quadrant, switched on.
For a moment David stands stock still staring at the Star. He knows how VR works, but briefly forgets that he only need think of something and the Absolute Psychic Auto-Connect will seamlessly present it before him in dazzling RealLife3D, including touch, smell, taste, and so on thanks to the NeuroPunch stimulation through the little sticky nodes attached to his temples.
Luckily, the holoStar is ever patient, merely shifting his weight the way David has seen him do numerous times in datastream interviews and concert broadcasts. The next second he breaks from his swaying stance and steps closer, though David doesn't consciously recall thinking it to life, and closes with David, slipping a hand just along the latter's jaw.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" the Star asks, voice rough like sandpaper and sultry like August. David doesn't even answer, only thinks "yes" very briefly before the Star's warm, wet lips are pressing against his, the prickles of his scruffy beard poking into David's chin.
The guitar-callused fingers slip to the base of David's neck, the other hand gripping his hip. He pulls David closer, kisses him harder, snakes his tongue between his teeth and squeezes his waist. The Star's stomach introduces itself to David's, and a small utterance escapes through his throat.
David feels a lump form in his own throat, but doesn't want to pull away, doesn't want to lose the electricity jumping across his nerves and exchanging places with the Star's. Another forceful kiss and David stumbles backward a couple feet, his knees hitting the sleek leather couch and cutting him down from his standing position. The Star pauses long enough to press David into the generous cushions, collapsing over him as his own knees find their places interlaced with his companion's.
Everything in the universe swirls around David's head, and in the rush of shooting stars and supernovas, a tiny thought that everything is moving too fast beams past at the speed of light. But at the same time he wants it too, wants the Star to kiss his mouth, his neck, his chest. He wants those hands on his skin, and his Astral Body closer closer closer, on him, on him, in him.
Oh God.
He involuntarily arches, and the Star does the same, their middles meeting and pressing and making them both groan. The desperate kisses continue until David's fingers grope across the Star's collar, catching a button momentarily. With an animalistic growl, the Star leans back on his haunches, gazes down with bedroom eyes, smirks, tweaks his left eye. David blinks and the buttons are coming undone at the Star's touch, falling away to reveal skin and chest and sacred hidden tattoos. David reaches up slowly, stretching only enough to barely grace the skin, to trace the inky lines himself.
The Star catches his companion's wrist, holding it briefly before sliding his fingers up his arm, leaning hard this time, pressing his body, his groin into David's, who squelches against the desire pulsing from his stomach into his chest and throat. His lips are caught again, his tongue tangled with the Star's, his cock straining so hard against his zipper that it burns like a dying white dwarf planet.
Apparently the Star can feel it too, because now he's busied himself with unbuttoning David's shirt and peeling apart his belt. His hands cup David's waist as he pulls himself in again, his whiskery lips making pit stops at David's jaw, neck, chest. Down, down , down, the Star descends as if falling out of orbit, skipping the surface until he lands in the dipped crater between skin and denim stitching.
David has to take a deep breath because the electricity pulses are pushing hard through his nervous system now. His head tilts into the sofa cushions, his back arches a little more, and the Star tugs apart David's zipper, pulling his jeans past his hips in one smooth motion. Swallowing hard, David peers down his half-clothed body just in time to catch a flash of the Star's mischievous grin. Then the Star licks his lips and ducks his head, taking David into his warm, moist mouth, welcoming him with a gentle nudge of his tongue.
David can feel everything. Heat and wet and pressure and tension. He feels the world spinning and the universe expanding. He feels how his cock pulses in the Star's mouth, pressing desperately against the roof of it, and how the Star does this thing with his tongue, an indescribable undulation that is subtle and strong and electrifying all at once. The Star gently draws his lips along David's shaft until he reaches the tip, mouths it playfully, then sinks back in, taking it all until it hits the back of his throat. Every cell in David's body is alive with light, and he's so overwhelmed he can do little more than moan loudly to express his satisfaction.
The Star bobs his head steadily like a heartbeat, until the desire builds so tightly in David's loins that it threatens to release in a blinding explosion. Just as he digs his fingers into the cushions around him, the Star slides his mouth away smoothly, leaving David's burning erection exposed to the slightly cooler air. He smiles like the Wolf after Little Red as he crawls back even with David and nudges his cheek with his nose. David gasps at the Star's lips nibbling his ear, and the Star chuckles.
A second later and the Star is up again, apparently insatiable, and he tears at what's left of David's clothing until it's all on the floor and none of it on him. David's treated to his own strip show of sorts as the Star does the same with his own clothes, throwing them carelessly aside. The Star's strong, confident hands grip David around the middle, pull him up, and draw him near. David stands frozen to the spot while the Star orbits around him, brushing his fingers here and there until he's standing behind. The hands slip over David's hips, one teases the still eager erection, and the Star buries his face behind David's ear, breathing heavily.
"Do you want me to fuck you, David?" the Star growls, and David about loses his breath.
"Yes," David gasps, and the Star loses no time pulling him towards the thick bear-skin carpet in front of the crackling fire.
David's quickly on his knees and the Star is cupping his strong, warm body as close as ever, his stomach at David's back and his cock pulsing between David's ass cheeks. The Star buries his face in David's neck, grumbling unintelligibly, his rough chin scratching his shoulder. David makes a strained sound as the Star enters his body, slowly and steadily and perfectly. Fingers lace into his hair, fingers that smooth and pet and trace. And then the Star moves, and now David sees stars of a different sort clouding his eyes.
The Star's mouth drags across David's neck muttering things that David really can't understand. It's hard to focus with the Star at his back, thrusting into him, touching him all over without ceasing.
One of the strong hands clamps down on David's shoulder, and the other streaks his side until it sneaks around to his stomach, then flattens, securing him through an ambitious thrust. A second later the hand drops, cupping David's cock into a tight squeeze.
David chokes on his breath, sure he's going to lose it now, with the Star taking his pleasure in him and massaging his erection. The Star's sweat-laden brow graces his cheek, mouth agape and panting. David's ready to let himself go, collapse into the Star when suddenly he has one last desire.
"Wait," David says breathily, and of course the Star complies. "Wait."
The Star gently pulls from David, who frees himself from the tangled web of arms and legs. He turns, gets up from his position, and presses his hands against the Star's shoulders. The Star leans back onto his backside, allowing David to slip between his knees.
"I just... I just want to..." David can't finish sentences anymore, but it doesn't matter. The Star knows.
Holding him down with all his strength, David swallows hard and climbs as well he can over him. He can hear his own heavy breathing echoing up at him off the Star's chest as he guides his stiff cock into the Star, flinching as his body gives way.
The Star himself writhes with pleasure, and David's pretty sure this isn't going to take much longer. He leans forward, digging himself deeper, the Star now having his turn at gasping for air. David's mouth hits the Star's chest just above his broken heart tattoo, and something makes him suck, mouth, bite the Star's flesh as he rocks harder against his partner's sweaty body, trembling with want.
His fingers claw up to the Star's soaking, mussed hair and grab at the locks, pulling, pulling, pulling, until the Star cries out loudly. David's hips hit a predictable rhythm as he pushes as hard as he can manage, the pleasure building so quickly he can barely hang on.
A blast of white hot light incinerates David's brain as he finally comes, losing all sensation save for the ecstasy of a hard hitting orgasm. He hears the Star's rough grunts of pleasure however, and feels the warm splash of the Star's ejaculate on his stomach. The Star's nail-bitten fingers claw David's back, somehow leaving faint pink trails all the way to his buttocks.
Collapsing forward, David feels like his brain is going to explode, and most likely his heart too. Heavy breathing echoes in his ear as he tries to collect himself, his thoughts, his feelings. He loves the feel of the Star and wishes he could stay here forever.
A light beep takes him out of the moment, and Lola's soft voice enters his ear. "One hour has elapsed. Do you wish to remain an additional hour?"
David wants to say yes so badly he can almost taste it, but in the end knows he can't. He's got necessities to buy and it's almost his sister's birthday and - if only he could stay. If only.
Reluctantly he mutters, "No," and the Star begins to melt from his arms and into the ether. Even after he's disappearing, David swears he can still feel the Star's breath on his cheek, still hear his heavy heart pounding.
Everything that had been previously rendered by David's thoughts slowly fades into the standard room where he'd started, the lush velvet and gaudy curtains back in all their glory. He disconnects the Pyschic Link nodes carefully and pulls off the Virtual Mask to find himself flat out on his back on one of the velvet couches, fully clothed, clean, dry, and steady. The entire experience had happened in his head, and thanks to the NeuroPunch technology his body had been tricked into feeling all the Star's kisses and caresses, the heart palpitations, all of it.
The emotions in his heart remain, however. God, how they remain.
EPILOGUE: 2512
"Can I tell you a secret?" David asks as he's lying flat on his back on Cook's silk-sheeted king size bed, slipping his arm into the gap between their two bodies.
"Yes?" Cook replies curiously, tracing his thumb along David's neck before raking his fingers into his thick, dark hair.
"You won't laugh?" David says, his brow crinkling the way it does when he's not so sure.
Cook does laugh, and squeezes his eyes closed in an attempt to hold back. "I would never," he chuckles, the sound echoing deeply in his throat. David loves Cook's laugh so much, how rich and musical it sounds.
"I once went to a holohouse," David admits, still staring at his partner's sky-painted ceiling. Accurate constellation replications have been applied, with tiny LED lights punched through the plaster to represent each star.
Cook's caressing hand stills, and he says, "Really?" like he's expecting it to be a joke. "You?"
"Yes, me," David says. He bites his lip and hesitates, momentarily considering not going through with the rest of the confession.
"Mmm," Cook hums, now slipping his free hand along David's torso. "And who did you order up, huh? Some young pop star, I suppose. I can't blame you."
"Nope," David replies. He tilts his head and peers up through his long lashes at his lover. "You."
Cook stiffens up, and his blue-gem eyes stare bewildered at his companion. "What? Me?"
David nods, now amused by Cook's surprise. "Mhmm, sexy ol' you."
Cook remains silent a moment, considering this new information.
"Well, was I good?" he asks, a playful grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.
David's cheeks rush with red, which just makes Cook more insistent.
"Oh my God, I was good, wasn't I? Tell me I was good! I have no control over those things, you know."
David giggles under his breath. "Well, I mean, am I comparing to now? Or just-"
"No, then David, how was I then? Oh God, you're gonna tell me holoMe was terribly disappointing, aren't you? It's okay, I can take it."
"Actually," David replies, restraining a cheeky smile, "he gave you a run for your money, to be honest."
"Oh my God," Cook declares, but can't hold back his amusement. "Holosex with me was better than in-person sex with me. My heart hurts, David. Hurts."
David laughs out loud now as Cook clutches his chest and falls back dramatically into the bed pillows.
"Yeah, well, you know why I'll always come back to you anyway?"
Cook moans dramatically, muttering, "I can't possibly imagine."
"You dork," David replies, now scooting closer and flinging his arm over his partner's chest. Cook sighs ridiculously and David pokes him in the shoulder.
"You always make me laugh," he says, and snuggles his chin against Cook's arm. "And no one can ever duplicate that."
~*~
[title] The Dream Machine
[author] kissontheneck (a.k.a. fieryrogue)
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] aohatsu, who really knows how to jab that beta stick
[rating] NC-17
[word count] 6225
[summary] Looking to the stars, one can easily fall in love. And once one falls in love, the desire to touch can become overwhelming.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Cyberpunk virtual sex. Quasi-prostitution and/or brothel-like setting, top!Archie
[author's notes] I don’t even know how this happened. I mean, aohatsu and I were talking about writing and kinkmemes and… remixes? Then one of us said something about doing porn!remixes and the other was like, "OMG, what if you did a porn!remix of-" and the next thing I know I’m trampling around in jehane_writes’s fabulous Somewhere Out There universe without permission and mucking everything up. (It seems everyone wants to have their way with her AU, as it were. Ahem.) But I hope she forgives me, and most of all likes it, and um, I love her?
THE DREAM MACHINE
In 2508, the Star was shot into orbit around the Earth, a naked light and a twinkling wish for anyone who seeks him.
On Tuesdays, David's friends Michael and Carly stop by the coffee shop during his lunch break to visit. They're in the music program at his school too, and to be honest he kind of envies their natural talent. Michael sings in a way that's sort of similar to the Star's, but smoother, not so edgy, and Carly, well - it's impossible not to use terribly cliché terms like out of this world to describe her abilities.
So as today is a Tuesday, David clocks out for lunch at the same time as Brooke, his co-worker who wears her hair in long golden plaits, and they go out into the dining area to secure a table big enough for four. As much as David loves his job, he sort of wishes they'd meet at other places sometimes, but Michael and Carly find the coffee shop so quaint and are ever amused by how they still use scissors to open bags of coffee and things like that.
As soon as Michael and Carly come in the door, David notices Carly has blunt-cut her bangs again, striping them hot pink against her naturally dark hair. Michael, as usual, has his zPod99 flooding his ears with who even knows what sort of music. They cross to David and Brooke’s table and plop themselves down into the two empty chairs.
"You guys," Michael says loudly over his music, "I just got the new datastream from Pinball Time Machine, have you heard it yet?"
"For goodness sakes, Mike," Carly says, frowning and tugging at his audio connectors, "turn that off before you shout at us. We can hear you just fine."
"Wasn’t that just released today?" Brooke asks as she unwraps her sandwich from the neighboring Classic Deli.
"Like ten seconds ago," Carly answers, rolling her eyes. She glances to her companion, who is still doing a ridiculous dance in his seat despite having now stopped the music. "You should've seen him, hovering over the download button on his data device all through class. I'm not letting you transfer my notes, by the way."
"You guys should get it," Michael says, apparently ignorant of Carly's comments.
"How can you afford all those datastreams all the time?" Brooke asks, and David wonders the same thing. They're all students, which if anything hasn’t changed over the last millennia it's that students are indefinitely poor.
"You guys download stuff," Michael replies casually.
"Not as much as you," Carly says, agreeing with her friends. "You download everything. How do you eat?"
"You always buy me lunch," Michael says cheekily and Carly makes a face. "You just downloaded something yesterday, what was it?"
"Well, for starters, that's different because I don't download every random piece of junk that comes across the data waves," she answers, "and it was Joni Mitchell for your information."
"Right," Michael replies, shaking his head. "Ancient history."
"I'm studying twentieth century music, you know that!" Carly defends. "And if it weren't for the twentieth century you wouldn't have Racecar Time Lords or whatever now."
"Pinball Time Machine!" Michael corrects, and David shares a giggle with Brooke. The band had recently hit the waves with the smash song "Grazing In The Astrolounge" which was so formulaic in structure that David couldn't believe any music student would take it seriously at all. Michael glances at them, narrowing his brow.
"Oh sure, everyone's music tastes are better than mine. What about you, Brooke? David?"
Brooke sort of shrugs, saying, "I don’t really remember. Let's see, I guess it might have been the Starlight Train data from a couple months ago? Unless the Ajax Alexander stuff was released after that..."
She trails as she thinks, and Michael shifts his attention to David. David, of course, remembers exactly the last thing he downloaded, in lieu of spending credits on a new Atmospheric Jacket like he so desperately needs.
"Dave Cook," he mumbles into his sandwich. Michael eases back into his chair, rolling his eyes.
"Of course," he replies. "I don't know why I even asked. Is that guy even human?"
"Dave Cook was born in the Caeruleus Therme Quadrant," David informs matter-of-factly, annoyed that not only has he said this a thousand times before, but that it also shouldn't really matter. "So yes. Eight days before me on December 20. Well, in 2482, not the same year, but you know what I mean."
"Aww, born under the same star, that's sweet," Michael teases, and even Carly chuckles at that.
"Well, no," David corrects. "See, the twenty-first is the last day of the Sagittarian cycle, and I'm in the Capricorn cycle. Though Dave Cook was very close to being born on the Cusp, so-"
Michael outright laughs now, and Carly can't help but join a little. Brooke leans over to David, squeezing his knee.
"Davey," she whispers as Michael and Carly elbow one another playfully. "Maybe dial it back a little on the Star's complete life history? You know I love to talk with you about the Star, but these guys…"
Oh. David doesn't always realize when he's talking about the Star too much, or when other people are laughing at him instead of with him. If he doesn't have Brooke by his side he can really get himself into a lot of trouble.
"Hey, David," Michael says, and when David looks up he sees that Carly is pawing at his arm hissing, "No, man, no. I was just kidding!"
But Michael completely ignores his friend's pleas and goes on anyway. "You know what you should do, buddy? What everyone does who is as enamored with a Star as you are."
"Come on, Mike, stop teasing," Carly says. "He’s never even been to one."
"I know!" Michael says. "And that's even more of a tragedy!"
"Been where?" David asks, though realizes he shouldn't have when Brooke's fingers dig tighter into his knee.
Michael leans forward on his elbows and takes a long sip of the soda he'd brought in with him. "David, buddy, you need to take all your obsessive energy about the Star and have yourself an enjoyable evening at a holohouse."
"All right, that’s it," Brooke declares, standing abruptly. "David and I need to get back to work and you two-"
"It’s just a suggestion, Brooke!" Michael defends, grinning. "Like you haven't been to a holohouse. We know how much you love John Mayer. That guy's not even alive anymore!"
David gets pulled up out of his seat by Brooke, who doesn't let go until they're both back behind the counter refilling bins of coffee. David waits all of two minutes before he breaks Brooke's angry silence.
"You’ve been to a holohouse?" David asks as he sweeps up a few beans he spilled on the counter.
"Of course," she answers as she struggles to open a new bag of Galactic Empire Roast. "Everyone has."
"I haven't," David replies, honestly.
"And there's nothing wrong with that," Brooke says. She jabs at the bag with the end of her scissors, clearly frustrated with its lack of cooperation.
"But there’s nothing wrong with going either," David points out. He clasps his hand over hers and carefully takes the scissors from her before she hurts herself.
"Oh, David," she sighs, letting him relieve her of the bag of coffee beans and cut it open easily himself. "No, there's not. You know everyone goes. I'm just annoyed that those guys think it's so funny that you haven't. I know you treasure doing in-person activities, and I don't want you to be embarrassed."
David pushes the open bag back towards his co-worker and returns the scissors to the appropriate drawer. "I'm not embarrassed," he says.
Brooke smiles kindly, pushing a loose blonde lock behind her ear. "Good," she says. "That makes me feel better. You wanna come over after work and study for our Musical Theory exam? We can jack into the Star's stream while we do it."
"Yeah, sure," David says. "It's a date."
~*~
Holohouses are very clean, and everyone goes to them, probably even the Star when he was on Earth. Society having long ago gotten over the taboo of casual sexual encounters, the City itself established the holohouse industry and even promoted the practice of intimate encounters with holographic people as "a stimulating mental exercise in fantasy" and "just like the real thing, but as safe as abstinence." That, at least, couldn’t be denied - the rate of sexually transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies had plummeted, and the in-person prostitution rings had nearly become extinct.
There's a holohouse right at the end of David's apartment block, owned by the most well-known chain in the industry, Dream Machine. According to advertisements and customer accounts, Dream Machine has the largest and nicest facilities, the most expansive and up to date hologram selection on the market, and the most reasonable prices too. David passes this location every time he goes to work, though he hasn't given a lot of thought to it. Holohouses are as common as Starbuckscorp dispensaries, so even with their blinding flashing lights and reverberating club music leaking out into the street, it's easy to pass one by without even being distracted from your data device reading.
On Fridays, David doesn't have any classes, and on every other Friday he doesn't have work, so he usually spends them the way other people spend every day - jacked into his favorite channel and being lazy. But on this particular Friday he's pretty bored - the 23rd Century Channel is having an historic sports marathon, ModernTech is more tedious than he can handle, and even the Star's feed is getting repetitive. It turns out the Star's capsule strayed into some asteroid gas cloud or something and has had interference ever since. That was a week ago, so they've been rerunning old streams until he emerges out of it. Should only take another day or so, apparently, if the InfoTicker along the bottom of the screen is to be believed. David's re-watched the Star burning his toast at least a dozen times now.
Then again, David has been pretty distracted as well. Even though Brooke had been trying to protect him from unnecessary teasing on Tuesday (and had been right about everything as usual), he hadn't been able to get Michael's comments out of his brain. He hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't embarrassed, and he didn't feel pressure to do what everyone else did either. But just the idea of a holohouse visit stuck in his thoughts like butterscotch in someone's teeth.
To be honest, he doesn't know why he's never gone before now. He loves the Star after all, and has dreamed of touching him even just briefly. People who visit the holohouses attest to being convinced they were in-person, so obviously it would be just like having the Star at his fingertips. It at least couldn't be any worse than the dreams he already has most nights of the year.
The Star's channel loops again and David makes a decision. Yanking hard on his jack to disengage it, he quickly puts on his old, thinning jacket, grabs his ID case, and slips out into the darkening evening.
Even with all the virtual technology embedded in everyone's everyday lives, Friday nights still manage to drag people out of their living cubicles for in-person entertainment. Though lots of places still have virtual performers streamed into their bars, there are a few in-person joints, and the novelty is still a decent seller in the general public. Either way though, the street is occupied more than usual as people make their way to the Moonbeam Lounge and Andromeda's Palace.
And the Dream Machine, of course.
Hands in his pockets, David slips in among the throng bustling at the entrance, crowding each other to browse the ticker that snakes around the eaves, advertising new additions and software updates. Someone near him gets excited about the addition of her favorite LiveFilm actor, and for a moment David thinks she might faint right at his feet.
The line moves relatively quickly, and before he knows it David has escaped the loud music being pumped outside. Inside it's relatively calm, with soft blue neon tracing the hallways that spread out in every direction like a spider's web. It's quieter too, which David is thankful for. The blatant glitz and glamour outside is clearly for drawing attention, which seems to work perfectly.
Everyone at the holohouse seems to already know the procedure, which unnerves David for a moment. But it only takes a minute of observing those in front of him to see that every few minutes a light over one of the hallways turns a solid green and the next person waiting rushes towards it, an AutoSensor detecting their passing and turning the light back to red. Twenty minutes later and David is at the front of the line, feeling a little bit nervous, actually. He's sure he'll probably trip over his own feet on the way to the available hall, drawing all sorts of attention to himself. That's something he could definitely do without.
He's staring blankly in the wrong direction when a skeevy man behind him pokes him in the shoulder, pointing to a hall in the opposite direction.
"You gonna go, man? 'Cause I wouldn't mind gettin' my hands on Magnolia Silverstar a few minutes early, if ya know what I mean."
David stares for a second, then bolts towards the green-lit hall as quickly as possible. He hears the AutoSensor beep softly, and now realizes there's an Invisible Shield closing behind him.
The hall is even quieter than the lobby, and the neon lights even bluer. Door after door line either side of the hall, each with glowing red lights above them. From this David figures he's supposed to search for the room with a green light waiting for him. After walking for what seems like ages, David passes an exhausted looking man just coming out of his room. The light hasn't turned from red to green yet, David guesses because it takes some time to reset or something. He does manage to see into the room though before the autodoor closes completely - chintzy looking furniture and lots of red velvet decorates the room from floor to ceiling.
At last David reaches the green-lit room and finally feels a sliver of familiarity. Along the right side of the autodoor is a standard payment panel, with a strip of glowing lights indicating where he should slide his identification card. David reaches for his ID case as a digital message parades across the door, "This room is: AVAILABLE."
It occurs to David now that he's not exactly certain how much this is going to cost him, and he skims the panel for any kind of pricing information. He'd picked up an extra shift the week before, so hopefully that would cover it - he isn't exactly in the mood to have the words "REJECTED" flashed at him on his first trip to a holohouse.
He fingers his card as he searches the panel, finally seeing a standard rate of 450 credits per hour. David had made about six hundred credits on that extra shift, so he's relieved that the session is at least somewhat within reach for people like him.
David's hand goes clammy as he quickly swipes his identification card through the slot, the reality that he's about to pay for sex with a hologram of the Star really starting to hit him. Other people might find it perfectly normal, but David's still a little anxious. A hesitation in the card reading causes his heart to come up in his throat, but a second later the little light above the slot flashes green and the autodoor slides breathily to the right. Shoving his card aimlessly into his back pocket, David steps inside, greeted by the same red velvet-rich setting he'd glanced from the room down the hall, apparently the standard setting. The throw pillows trimmed with thick gold cord and the blinding crystal chandelier are almost too much to bear.
In the middle of the room hovers a transparent 360 holoscreen, with little blips of acid green pixels streaming from floor to ceiling in wait. David's only seen these types of holoscreens a couple times, so he kind of admires it a moment before approaching. Finally, he reaches his hand out, his fingers disturbing the web of light into tiny skipping droplets, like moondust on the lakes of Zandar 10. A generic but kind-faced holowoman appears in the mass, her hair streaming behind her in an artificial wind.
"Greetings, David Archuleta," she says, her voice as warm as a real person's. "I am Lola, and I will help you choose your fantasy today." Digital words begin to build up a virtual menu around her, streaking in from every direction. "We will first choose your place setting and color scheme, then music, lighting and finally your holomate."
Lola guides him patiently through all the options, and David is quick to replace the velvet-heavy monstrosity of a setting with smooth leather couches and a crackling fireplace. For music he avoids the temptation to bring up the Star's latest datastream, and instead selects some soft piano concertos that remind him of home.
"Now we choose your holomate," Lola says kindly, and David feels his heart rate increase again. He's about to meet his Idol, his Star, and even in a virtual setting that's a little nerve wracking. "You may choose a Premade, which includes all celebrities and other known figures, or you may Build From Scratch."
David chooses the Premade option and again everything trickles away to be replaced by a new screen, overwhelming with choices. He traces his fingers up the menu, the category heads pulsing hopefully as he passes each by. Astro-athletes, Earth Politicians, VRTV Personalities… The words slip through his fingers until he's finally presented with what he's been looking for - he holds the stream steady for a moment, the letters pulsing alluringly until he finally pokes his index finger through the word Stars.
A massive data load flies into the virtual field, downloading every Star of the last millennia. A parade of alphabet letters marches across the top and Lola's voice reads the instructions, "Here you may browse for your holomate by genre or by directly searching by surname."
David pokes the glittering third letter of the alphabet, which immediately whisks the old menu away, to be replaced by a list of every C-named Star anyone has ever heard of on Earth or elsewhere. Though he has the option to type the name in directly, David takes his time scrolling through Chase, Colin, Conrad… until he reaches COOK, DAVID R: Star of Caeruleus Therme Quadrant, human male, age 29, rock god.
After a deep breath, David again pokes the menu, and a new window pops open, the bottom half packed with paragraphs of biography, the top left column listing basic descriptors like HAIR: Brown and EYES: Blue. And in the right column a little digital preview renders in low-res dots a spinning 360 miniature of the Star radiating like the center of the universe.
David blinks a moment, slightly enamored even by the small, sketchy image of his Star. Slowly, he reaches out, reaches out to touch the Star as if he's real, and is slightly startled when he disappears instead. The holoscreen blanks, then a line streams across, its length building as the percentage loaded creeps toward 100%. It hangs around 96, making David's heart stop until it finally rolls into 97, 98, 99...
One hundred flashes briefly, then a crystal clear high resolution image blasts across the holoscreen, in Real Colour now, stretching to fit the Star's height, weight, cranium circumference. A standard outfit of flannel and denim materializes around the frame as the Star's swirling tattoos slink down his arms, dripping as if the ink is still wet. The Star awakes, blinks, then smiles.
"Hello, David," the Star greets, and the voice is impeccable. Of course, the real Star has submitted voice samples to hundreds of sources, and the sound manipulators can pick out every tone and nuance and make the Star speak flawlessly in an alien language if they want to. In fact, it's an option in the sub-menu floating lazily near the Star's right shoulder.
"Hello," David replies timidly, diverting his eyes, but then chastises himself for doing so. There's no reason to be embarrassed in front of the holoStar, but David is also a little intimidated by how incredibly realistic he is. David thought for sure there'd be some sign - a little imperfect blip, perhaps - to remind him the difference between truth and fiction.
"At this point you may enter any alterations you wish," the Star informs David as the options brighten next to him. "Dress, hair color, language, measurements, et cetera. You may also choose Original Settings, or exit and choose another holomate."
David stares up at the Star wondering how he could suggest such a thing. Who would change this perfect formation of stardust, he doesn't know. He watches a moment as the Star blinks patiently, forever ready for his next command.
"Original settings," David answers and now every other stray pixel vanishes, leaving him alone with the holoStar, who grins and tilts his head and steps forward.
"Only thing left is to put on the Vision Mask and attach the Psychic Link nodes to each of your temples, then we're ready to go." The Star sounds so friendly, so willing. Despite being a virtual prostitute, he isn't dirty or lewd or condescending.
The holoStar folds his hands together while David finds the Vision Mask on the little table at one side of the room. It's a far cry from the original VR units that were large and clunky helmets that squashed a person's hair. Not that David remembers any of that, but he's been to the Museum of Virtual History and seen the artifacts. Now the Vision Masks are just a little crescent of fabric large enough to cover the eyes, a thin elastic strap to hold in place over the ears, and two thin wires with sticky pads the size of ancient metal coin credits on the ends. Carefully, David sticks the nodes to his forehead, pulls the VM over his eyes, and takes a deep breath.
It's dark for a nanosecond - the instant of everything connecting to his brain waves - and then the Star is there before him again, seemingly happy to see he has arrived. He reaches out his hand and grips David's elbow lightly, the slight pressure of his rough fingertips tangible on his skin.
"Do you feel me, David?" the Star asks, and David blushes at the inappropriate thought that somehow sneaks into his brain. Remembering that those thoughts now run the show, he tries to clear it, nods as he says "Yes," then nods again.
"Then we're completely synced," the Star informs him, letting David's elbow slip out of his grasp. There's a beat where something intangible happens, a shift of energy that pulses silently, and later David would look back to realize it was the moment the autopilot switched off, and Dave Cook, Star of Caeruleus Therme Quadrant, switched on.
For a moment David stands stock still staring at the Star. He knows how VR works, but briefly forgets that he only need think of something and the Absolute Psychic Auto-Connect will seamlessly present it before him in dazzling RealLife3D, including touch, smell, taste, and so on thanks to the NeuroPunch stimulation through the little sticky nodes attached to his temples.
Luckily, the holoStar is ever patient, merely shifting his weight the way David has seen him do numerous times in datastream interviews and concert broadcasts. The next second he breaks from his swaying stance and steps closer, though David doesn't consciously recall thinking it to life, and closes with David, slipping a hand just along the latter's jaw.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" the Star asks, voice rough like sandpaper and sultry like August. David doesn't even answer, only thinks "yes" very briefly before the Star's warm, wet lips are pressing against his, the prickles of his scruffy beard poking into David's chin.
The guitar-callused fingers slip to the base of David's neck, the other hand gripping his hip. He pulls David closer, kisses him harder, snakes his tongue between his teeth and squeezes his waist. The Star's stomach introduces itself to David's, and a small utterance escapes through his throat.
David feels a lump form in his own throat, but doesn't want to pull away, doesn't want to lose the electricity jumping across his nerves and exchanging places with the Star's. Another forceful kiss and David stumbles backward a couple feet, his knees hitting the sleek leather couch and cutting him down from his standing position. The Star pauses long enough to press David into the generous cushions, collapsing over him as his own knees find their places interlaced with his companion's.
Everything in the universe swirls around David's head, and in the rush of shooting stars and supernovas, a tiny thought that everything is moving too fast beams past at the speed of light. But at the same time he wants it too, wants the Star to kiss his mouth, his neck, his chest. He wants those hands on his skin, and his Astral Body closer closer closer, on him, on him, in him.
Oh God.
He involuntarily arches, and the Star does the same, their middles meeting and pressing and making them both groan. The desperate kisses continue until David's fingers grope across the Star's collar, catching a button momentarily. With an animalistic growl, the Star leans back on his haunches, gazes down with bedroom eyes, smirks, tweaks his left eye. David blinks and the buttons are coming undone at the Star's touch, falling away to reveal skin and chest and sacred hidden tattoos. David reaches up slowly, stretching only enough to barely grace the skin, to trace the inky lines himself.
The Star catches his companion's wrist, holding it briefly before sliding his fingers up his arm, leaning hard this time, pressing his body, his groin into David's, who squelches against the desire pulsing from his stomach into his chest and throat. His lips are caught again, his tongue tangled with the Star's, his cock straining so hard against his zipper that it burns like a dying white dwarf planet.
Apparently the Star can feel it too, because now he's busied himself with unbuttoning David's shirt and peeling apart his belt. His hands cup David's waist as he pulls himself in again, his whiskery lips making pit stops at David's jaw, neck, chest. Down, down , down, the Star descends as if falling out of orbit, skipping the surface until he lands in the dipped crater between skin and denim stitching.
David has to take a deep breath because the electricity pulses are pushing hard through his nervous system now. His head tilts into the sofa cushions, his back arches a little more, and the Star tugs apart David's zipper, pulling his jeans past his hips in one smooth motion. Swallowing hard, David peers down his half-clothed body just in time to catch a flash of the Star's mischievous grin. Then the Star licks his lips and ducks his head, taking David into his warm, moist mouth, welcoming him with a gentle nudge of his tongue.
David can feel everything. Heat and wet and pressure and tension. He feels the world spinning and the universe expanding. He feels how his cock pulses in the Star's mouth, pressing desperately against the roof of it, and how the Star does this thing with his tongue, an indescribable undulation that is subtle and strong and electrifying all at once. The Star gently draws his lips along David's shaft until he reaches the tip, mouths it playfully, then sinks back in, taking it all until it hits the back of his throat. Every cell in David's body is alive with light, and he's so overwhelmed he can do little more than moan loudly to express his satisfaction.
The Star bobs his head steadily like a heartbeat, until the desire builds so tightly in David's loins that it threatens to release in a blinding explosion. Just as he digs his fingers into the cushions around him, the Star slides his mouth away smoothly, leaving David's burning erection exposed to the slightly cooler air. He smiles like the Wolf after Little Red as he crawls back even with David and nudges his cheek with his nose. David gasps at the Star's lips nibbling his ear, and the Star chuckles.
A second later and the Star is up again, apparently insatiable, and he tears at what's left of David's clothing until it's all on the floor and none of it on him. David's treated to his own strip show of sorts as the Star does the same with his own clothes, throwing them carelessly aside. The Star's strong, confident hands grip David around the middle, pull him up, and draw him near. David stands frozen to the spot while the Star orbits around him, brushing his fingers here and there until he's standing behind. The hands slip over David's hips, one teases the still eager erection, and the Star buries his face behind David's ear, breathing heavily.
"Do you want me to fuck you, David?" the Star growls, and David about loses his breath.
"Yes," David gasps, and the Star loses no time pulling him towards the thick bear-skin carpet in front of the crackling fire.
David's quickly on his knees and the Star is cupping his strong, warm body as close as ever, his stomach at David's back and his cock pulsing between David's ass cheeks. The Star buries his face in David's neck, grumbling unintelligibly, his rough chin scratching his shoulder. David makes a strained sound as the Star enters his body, slowly and steadily and perfectly. Fingers lace into his hair, fingers that smooth and pet and trace. And then the Star moves, and now David sees stars of a different sort clouding his eyes.
The Star's mouth drags across David's neck muttering things that David really can't understand. It's hard to focus with the Star at his back, thrusting into him, touching him all over without ceasing.
One of the strong hands clamps down on David's shoulder, and the other streaks his side until it sneaks around to his stomach, then flattens, securing him through an ambitious thrust. A second later the hand drops, cupping David's cock into a tight squeeze.
David chokes on his breath, sure he's going to lose it now, with the Star taking his pleasure in him and massaging his erection. The Star's sweat-laden brow graces his cheek, mouth agape and panting. David's ready to let himself go, collapse into the Star when suddenly he has one last desire.
"Wait," David says breathily, and of course the Star complies. "Wait."
The Star gently pulls from David, who frees himself from the tangled web of arms and legs. He turns, gets up from his position, and presses his hands against the Star's shoulders. The Star leans back onto his backside, allowing David to slip between his knees.
"I just... I just want to..." David can't finish sentences anymore, but it doesn't matter. The Star knows.
Holding him down with all his strength, David swallows hard and climbs as well he can over him. He can hear his own heavy breathing echoing up at him off the Star's chest as he guides his stiff cock into the Star, flinching as his body gives way.
The Star himself writhes with pleasure, and David's pretty sure this isn't going to take much longer. He leans forward, digging himself deeper, the Star now having his turn at gasping for air. David's mouth hits the Star's chest just above his broken heart tattoo, and something makes him suck, mouth, bite the Star's flesh as he rocks harder against his partner's sweaty body, trembling with want.
His fingers claw up to the Star's soaking, mussed hair and grab at the locks, pulling, pulling, pulling, until the Star cries out loudly. David's hips hit a predictable rhythm as he pushes as hard as he can manage, the pleasure building so quickly he can barely hang on.
A blast of white hot light incinerates David's brain as he finally comes, losing all sensation save for the ecstasy of a hard hitting orgasm. He hears the Star's rough grunts of pleasure however, and feels the warm splash of the Star's ejaculate on his stomach. The Star's nail-bitten fingers claw David's back, somehow leaving faint pink trails all the way to his buttocks.
Collapsing forward, David feels like his brain is going to explode, and most likely his heart too. Heavy breathing echoes in his ear as he tries to collect himself, his thoughts, his feelings. He loves the feel of the Star and wishes he could stay here forever.
A light beep takes him out of the moment, and Lola's soft voice enters his ear. "One hour has elapsed. Do you wish to remain an additional hour?"
David wants to say yes so badly he can almost taste it, but in the end knows he can't. He's got necessities to buy and it's almost his sister's birthday and - if only he could stay. If only.
Reluctantly he mutters, "No," and the Star begins to melt from his arms and into the ether. Even after he's disappearing, David swears he can still feel the Star's breath on his cheek, still hear his heavy heart pounding.
Everything that had been previously rendered by David's thoughts slowly fades into the standard room where he'd started, the lush velvet and gaudy curtains back in all their glory. He disconnects the Pyschic Link nodes carefully and pulls off the Virtual Mask to find himself flat out on his back on one of the velvet couches, fully clothed, clean, dry, and steady. The entire experience had happened in his head, and thanks to the NeuroPunch technology his body had been tricked into feeling all the Star's kisses and caresses, the heart palpitations, all of it.
The emotions in his heart remain, however. God, how they remain.
EPILOGUE: 2512
"Can I tell you a secret?" David asks as he's lying flat on his back on Cook's silk-sheeted king size bed, slipping his arm into the gap between their two bodies.
"Yes?" Cook replies curiously, tracing his thumb along David's neck before raking his fingers into his thick, dark hair.
"You won't laugh?" David says, his brow crinkling the way it does when he's not so sure.
Cook does laugh, and squeezes his eyes closed in an attempt to hold back. "I would never," he chuckles, the sound echoing deeply in his throat. David loves Cook's laugh so much, how rich and musical it sounds.
"I once went to a holohouse," David admits, still staring at his partner's sky-painted ceiling. Accurate constellation replications have been applied, with tiny LED lights punched through the plaster to represent each star.
Cook's caressing hand stills, and he says, "Really?" like he's expecting it to be a joke. "You?"
"Yes, me," David says. He bites his lip and hesitates, momentarily considering not going through with the rest of the confession.
"Mmm," Cook hums, now slipping his free hand along David's torso. "And who did you order up, huh? Some young pop star, I suppose. I can't blame you."
"Nope," David replies. He tilts his head and peers up through his long lashes at his lover. "You."
Cook stiffens up, and his blue-gem eyes stare bewildered at his companion. "What? Me?"
David nods, now amused by Cook's surprise. "Mhmm, sexy ol' you."
Cook remains silent a moment, considering this new information.
"Well, was I good?" he asks, a playful grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.
David's cheeks rush with red, which just makes Cook more insistent.
"Oh my God, I was good, wasn't I? Tell me I was good! I have no control over those things, you know."
David giggles under his breath. "Well, I mean, am I comparing to now? Or just-"
"No, then David, how was I then? Oh God, you're gonna tell me holoMe was terribly disappointing, aren't you? It's okay, I can take it."
"Actually," David replies, restraining a cheeky smile, "he gave you a run for your money, to be honest."
"Oh my God," Cook declares, but can't hold back his amusement. "Holosex with me was better than in-person sex with me. My heart hurts, David. Hurts."
David laughs out loud now as Cook clutches his chest and falls back dramatically into the bed pillows.
"Yeah, well, you know why I'll always come back to you anyway?"
Cook moans dramatically, muttering, "I can't possibly imagine."
"You dork," David replies, now scooting closer and flinging his arm over his partner's chest. Cook sighs ridiculously and David pokes him in the shoulder.
"You always make me laugh," he says, and snuggles his chin against Cook's arm. "And no one can ever duplicate that."
~*~