It doesn't take long for him to rethink the whole idea. Around the first time he finds himself rock hard in the market, really. That's the first sign this was a bad idea.
His mouth is set into a grim line and his arms are crossed over his chest and he is trying so hard to pay attention to Daveth's report as they trade shifts, but all he can focus on is the sensation of solitary electrical pulses like warm fingertips skittering across his artifical skin, some teasing spectre running light touches down his chest, across the hard curve of his hipbones, underneath his armor and that goddamn Vault kid is sitting at the Galley, innocent as you please, looking for all the world like he's merely tinking with some piece of old world tech. A simple curiousity. No one the wiser to the fact that the knob he's fiddling with is making Harkness' heart pound, that the touch pad he drags a fingertip across is like the drag of a tongue across the length of Harkness' cock.
He thinks he makes his point that night, cornering the kid as soon as his shift is done, tapping into tireless energy to earn the kid's mercy, the twist of a dial on the remote staving off his own climax so long that the pleasure has turned to agony and he is growing very concerned that he may just short-circuit. When the kid relents, it's like fireworks going off, all the knobs and dials on full blast and a very real organic mouth on his cock and he's so relieved he could damn near cry.
He thinks he's made his point. Until the council meeting the next morning.
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timeasmymeasure
Harkness/M!LW - Control [1/1]
Date: 2011-12-19 11:28 pm (UTC)His mouth is set into a grim line and his arms are crossed over his chest and he is trying so hard to pay attention to Daveth's report as they trade shifts, but all he can focus on is the sensation of solitary electrical pulses like warm fingertips skittering across his artifical skin, some teasing spectre running light touches down his chest, across the hard curve of his hipbones, underneath his armor and that goddamn Vault kid is sitting at the Galley, innocent as you please, looking for all the world like he's merely tinking with some piece of old world tech. A simple curiousity. No one the wiser to the fact that the knob he's fiddling with is making Harkness' heart pound, that the touch pad he drags a fingertip across is like the drag of a tongue across the length of Harkness' cock.
He thinks he makes his point that night, cornering the kid as soon as his shift is done, tapping into tireless energy to earn the kid's mercy, the twist of a dial on the remote staving off his own climax so long that the pleasure has turned to agony and he is growing very concerned that he may just short-circuit. When the kid relents, it's like fireworks going off, all the knobs and dials on full blast and a very real organic mouth on his cock and he's so relieved he could damn near cry.
He thinks he's made his point. Until the council meeting the next morning.