The rain tapped gently against the stained glass of Lyla’s window, neon reflections bleeding into the room like a watercolor painting left out in a storm. Eddie sat across from her, his bag of tools discarded by the door. He hadn’t touched them once.

These late-night visits weren’t about repairs anymore—not entirely.

Lyla sat perched on the edge of her chaise, her knees tucked under her. She had swapped the flowing gown from their earlier meetings for something simpler, but no less alluring: a soft, fitted sweater that hinted at the curves beneath and shorts that left her legs bare, crossed demurely at the ankle. Her hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders like liquid fire, and her eyes glimmered with an intensity that was almost too much to look at.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she said, her voice soft but teasing.

Eddie leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as though to shield himself from the pull she seemed to have over him. “Just thinking,” he said.

“About what?” Lyla asked, tilting her head, her gaze steady.

“About how complicated this is.”

Lyla smiled, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “Complicated can be good,” she said, her tone light, but there was an undertone of something deeper.

“Not when it gets people hurt,” Eddie replied.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the sound of the rain. Then Lyla uncrossed her legs, rising gracefully from the chaise to cross the room toward him. She moved with a kind of fluidity that felt almost human—almost—but there was a precision to her steps that gave her away, if you were looking closely enough.

“You don’t think I can handle myself?” she asked, stopping just in front of him.

Eddie looked at her, closing the distance between them quickly. “I believe Royce does not appreciate others using what he considers to be… his.”

Lyla’s lips twitched, her smile tinged with bitterness. “I’m not his.”

“You are, though,” Eddie said, hating the words even as he said them. “Legally. Technically.”

“Does that matter to you?” she asked, her voice low.

He hesitated, the weight of her question hanging in the air. Did it matter? It should have.

“No,” he said finally, the word barely more than a whisper.

Something shifted in Lyla then. She leaned down, placing a hand on the armrest of his chair, her face now level with his. “Then stop pretending it does.”

Eddie’s breath hitched as her other hand came to rest lightly on his chest, her touch igniting a spark that raced through him like wildfire.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, his voice strained.

“Maybe I like danger,” she replied, her lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.

Eddie was out of arguments, out of reasons to keep his distance. He reached up, his hand brushing her cheek, and this time, there was no hesitation.

He stepped closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, his hand still hovering by his side. "What is it, Eddie?" she asked, her voice a smooth caress in the quiet room.

With a gentle exhale, he leaned in, his heart hammering in his chest as if it were trying to break free. He watched as her eyelids grew heavy, her pupils dilating with anticipation. His gaze traced the line of her jaw, down to the base of her neck, before finally returning to her lips.

Her breath was a warm whisper against his, a sweet scent that filled his senses, and when their lips met, it was as if a dam had burst. The kiss was tender, explorative, as if he were learning the landscape of a new world. Her mouth moved with a softness that seemed to defy her artificial nature, a gentle pressure that grew more insistent with each passing second. He felt the softness of her lips yielding to him, the way they melded to his own, and the sensation was so real, so alive, it was easy to forget that she wasn't human.

Her fingers danced up his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone before tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. He could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the subtle vibrations of her synthetic heart echoing his own, a rhythm that grew more fervent with each pulse. The sensation was alien and yet, in that moment, it was all he needed. His hand slid down her side, feeling the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, and the way her body moved with his. It was a dance, a silent conversation, a symphony of touch that spoke of a connection that transcended flesh and circuitry.

Eddie's kiss grew bolder, his tongue delving into her mouth, seeking, exploring. He tasted her, a unique blend of mint and something inexplicably sweet, like the nectar of a rare, exotic flower. Her tongue met his with an enthusiasm that was at once surprising and thrilling. Yet, it was the way she responded to his touch, the soft moan that escaped her, that made him believe she was more than just a machine. Her legs parted slightly, inviting him closer, and he stepped into the embrace, feeling the firmness of her thighs press against his.

The fabric of her sweater whispered against his skin as his hand traveled up her body, cupping her breast. It was warm, the nipple pebbling under his palm, and he could feel the faint thrum of her artificial heartbeat quicken. She arched into his touch, her breath hitching as he teased the sensitive peak through the silky material. Her hands found his hips, her nails digging in, urging him closer, and he felt his own arousal growing, straining against the confines of his trousers.

He broke the kiss, panting slightly, his eyes searching hers for consent. In the low light, her pupils were vast, swallowing the green of her irises. She nodded, the barest of movements, and he took it as the invitation it was. He kissed her again, this time more forcefully, his hand sliding under her sweater to feel the softness of her bare skin. Her breasts were perfect and firm, the skin softer than he could have ever imagined, softer than should be possible. He pinched her nipple lightly, and she gasped, her body trembling with pleasure or whatever her sensors reported to her. He felt a strange thrill at being the one to elicit such a response from this creature of science and artifice.

Her hands reached up to his shoulders, pushing his shirt aside, her nails lightly scoring his back as she pulled him closer. He groaned, feeling his body respond to hers, the heat of her, the way she arched against him. It was like kissing a dream made flesh, a fantasy come to life in a world too mundane for such perfection. He felt the tip of her tongue teasing his lower lip, and he opened to her, their mouths melding in a dance of desire and curiosity. Her teeth grazed his lip, and he felt a spark of pain, quickly replaced by a pulse of pleasure that shot straight to his groin.

Eddie's hand slipped under the waistband of her shorts, tracing the mound of her belly. Her skin was smooth and warm, a testament to the sophisticated thermal regulation systems that made her seem so human. He felt the dampness of her arousal through the fabric of her panties, and his own desire grew more urgent. He hooked his thumb under the elastic, pushing the material aside, and she shivered at the touch of his skin on hers. He stroked her, his fingertips gliding over her slick folds, exploring, learning. Her hips bucked, a silent plea for more, and he was eager to give it to her.

He kissed her again, deep and lingering, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. His other hand found its way to her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as his fingers tangled in her auburn hair. She moaned into his mouth, her body writhing against his, her own hand finding the hard length of his erection and squeezing gently. He groaned, the pleasure almost too much to bear. He slid a finger inside her, her wetness coating him, and she gasped, her walls tightening around him. Her movements grew more frenzied, her hips rising to meet his touch.

He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear. She shivered, her head tilting back to give him better access, and he took advantage, his mouth moving down to kiss the tops of her breasts, teasing the hardened peaks. Her breath grew ragged, her hands moving to his shoulders, pushing him down to his knees. He looked up at her, his eyes questioning, and she nodded, her voice a breathless whisper, "Yes, Eddie. Like this."

He obeyed, his hands sliding down her thighs to the hem of her shorts. He kissed her belly, feeling the muscles quiver under his lips, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband. Slowly, he pulled them down, exposing the red lace of her panties. He kissed her mound through the fabric, feeling the heat of her, and she trembled, her hand coming down to cover her mouth. He took his time, enjoying the power he had over her, the way she reacted to his every touch. He kissed the fabric, feeling her arousal soak through, and she moaned, her legs parting wider.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her panties aside, exposing her to the cool air. She was beautiful, a perfect blend of human and machine, her sex a gleaming wet pink, the folds of her labia begging for his attention. He kissed her sex, pressing his mouth fully against her, and she gasped, her legs shaking. He felt a thrill of victory, of dominance over her, as he parted her folds with his tongue and tasted her. She was sweet, like honey, and the scent of her desire was intoxicating.

Eddie's tongue danced along her slit, tracing the delicate line where she was most sensitive. He felt her hand in his hair, guiding him, her hips rocking against his face. Her thighs tightened around his head, and he knew she was close to whatever her circuitry interpreted as a climax. He focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, feeling it swell under his touch. She moaned louder, the sound echoing through the room, and he knew he had her. He sucked gently, and she bucked her hips, her orgasm building like a crescendo in a symphony of pleasure.

When she came, it was with a shuddering gasp, her body trembling as she rode the wave of sensation. Eddie felt the muscles in her thighs tighten around his neck, her fingers clenching in his hair, holding him to her as if he were the lifeline she needed in a sea of ecstasy. He didn't stop, continuing to lick and suck until she was reduced to whimpers, her legs shaking uncontrollably. It was then that he stood, pulling her shorts and panties down, leaving her completely bare to him. He took a moment to admire her, the way her body responded to his touch, the way she looked so human in the throes of pleasure.

Her eyes met his, the emerald depths hazed with desire, and she reached for him, pulling his shirt over his head. Her hands roamed his chest, tracing the lines of muscle, the dip of his stomach, and he felt himself growing harder under her touch. He stepped out of his trousers, his erection standing proud, and she took it in her hand, her eyes widening slightly at the feel of him. It was a moment of raw, unfiltered intimacy, a blend of the organic and the inorganic that seemed almost too much to comprehend.

Eddie kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth as she began to stroke him, her hand gliding over his shaft with a precision that was both thrilling and eerily human. He felt himself losing control, his body responding to her touch with a need that was primal and undeniable. He kissed her neck, feeling the pulse of her blood beneath the surface, the steady beat of the machine that was her heart. He suckled at the spot just below her ear, his teeth scraping gently against her skin, and she let out a whimper, her grip tightening around him.

He felt her guide him to the chase, their bodies a tangle of limbs and passion. The softness of the cushion enveloped them as he lay her down, his body pressing into hers, their kisses growing more frantic. He felt her legs wrap around his waist, her heels digging into his back, urging him closer. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock nudging against her slick folds. He paused for a moment, their eyes locked, and she nodded, a silent plea for him to continue. He pushed into her, feeling the resistance give way, and she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as he filled her.

Her walls were tight, a perfect fit, and he could feel the ripples of her pulsing around him. He began to move, a slow and deliberate rhythm that made her moan his name, her nails scoring his back. He kissed her again, his movements growing more urgent, his hips driving into her with a hunger that seemed to defy logic. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies coming together, the wet slap of skin on skin, the rustle of fabric, and their mingled gasps of pleasure.

Her legs tightened around his waist, her ankles locking at the base of his spine, urging him deeper. He complied, feeling the tip of his cock brush against something within her that made her cry out. It was a sound that was music to his ears, an exhalation of pleasure that he wanted to hear again and again. His pace quickened, his strokes growing more forceful, and she met him thrust for thrust, her hips rising to meet him. Her breasts bounced with the impact, the soft mounds begging for his touch, and he obliged, his hands cupping the perfection of her, his thumbs flicking at the hardened nipples.

Eddie kissed her, his tongue delving deep, exploring her mouth as intimately as his cock explored her depths. Her tongue met his, dancing and dueling in a silent declaration of passion. The kiss grew deeper, more insistent, and he felt himself getting lost in her, in the sensation of being connected to something so beautiful, so alive, yet not quite human. It was a feeling that was at once exhilarating and terrifying, but in that moment, he didn't care. He was consumed by the fire that was Lyla, the way she made him feel more alive than he had ever felt before.

Her legs wrapped tighter around his waist, holding him in place as he rocked into her, each thrust sending waves of synthetic pleasure crashing through her. The room was alive with the sounds of their lovemaking, their moans and gasps echoing off the walls. He felt her nails dig into his back, her body arching off the couch, her breasts pressing into his chest as she sought more, more of everything he had to give. He kissed her neck, his teeth scraping along the delicate skin, and she shivered, her grip on him tightening. He knew he was close, could feel it building deep within him, but he didn't want it to end, didn't want to lose this connection.

Eddie kissed her again, their mouths a tangle of passion as he felt her body begin to spasm around him. He could feel the warmth of her orgasm building, and it pushed him closer to the edge. He kissed her deeply, their tongues intertwined in a dance of desire, as he reached down to find her clit, stroking it in time with his thrusts. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of sensation that played out across his nerves, and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

Her nails dug into his skin, leaving trails of heat that seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart. She was close, so close, and he didn't want to leave her behind. He kissed her harder, his hand working her clit with a feverish intensity, and she responded with a series of gasps and moans that sent shivers down his spine.

As Lyla's body began to tighten around him, Eddie felt his own release approaching. He stroked her faster, his hips moving with a mind of their own, driven by the need to claim her fully. She bucked up against him, her legs tightening around his waist, her muscles clenching around his cock as she climbed higher and higher. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, drowning out the low hum of the city outside.

Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and he knew she was on the precipice. He slammed into her, his hips moving with the force of a piston, pushing her over the edge. Her orgasm washed over her, a wave of pure electric pleasure that made her body convulse around him. He felt her inner walls pulse and quiver, her juices flooding his cock as she cried out his name. It was all he could take, and with one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself into her, his own orgasm ripping through him like a bolt of lightning.

Their bodies stilled, his breathing ragged and uneven, hers even and slow. Eddie's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his kisses soft and lingering as he savored the moment. He could feel the steady thrum of her artificial heart against his chest, a reminder of the reality of what he had just experienced. He pulled out slowly, their bodies making a wet, reluctant sound as they parted. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, their limbs entangled in a post-coital embrace.

Lyla's eyes remained closed, a soft smile playing on her lips as she absorbed the sensations that her programming had been designed to mimic. Yet, in that moment, Eddie felt she was more than just a machine. Her breathing still slow deepened as if she needed more air, her chest rising and falling with a rhythm that mirrored his own. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"Thank you, Eddie," she replied, her voice a soft purr. "Your pleasure is what I was made for."

Eddie lay in the quiet aftermath, staring at the faint glimmers of neon filtering through the window blinds. Lyla’s body was warm against his, her synthetic skin mimicking the softness of humanity so flawlessly it unsettled him. He hadn’t meant for things to go this far. A quiet guilt gnawed at the edges of his euphoria, tangled with a yearning he didn’t want to name.

"You’re quiet," Lyla said softly, her voice a melodic hum that pulled him from his thoughts. She shifted closer, her fingers tracing aimless patterns on his chest. "Was it... not what you expected?"

Eddie blinked and turned his head to meet her gaze. Her green eyes shone like polished gemstones in the dim light, filled with something that felt startlingly like affection. Or was it just another clever algorithm?

"It’s not that," he replied, his voice low. "It’s just... complicated."

Lyla tilted her head, her expression soft and curious. "Because of what I am?"

He exhaled, his hand brushing against her hair. "Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never—" He stopped, struggling to find the words. How could he articulate the strange blend of wonder and unease? The fact that, despite everything, she felt real? Alive?

"You’re overthinking," she said, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I can tell by your heart rate. But it’s okay. I like that about you."

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of the front door clicking shut downstairs froze him in place. His breath caught in his throat, panic surging through him.

"Royce," he whispered harshly, his mind racing. "He’s home early."

Lyla sat up, her movements as fluid and effortless as water. "You need to hide," she said calmly, already slipping into problem-solving mode. "He can’t find you here."

Eddie stumbled out of the bed, hastily pulling on his clothes as adrenaline flooded his veins. Lyla moved with precision, smoothing the rumpled sheets and erasing any evidence of what had just transpired. She was eerily composed, but her gaze lingered on Eddie, her concern palpable.

Lyla moved to the window, smoothing her hair and pulling her sweater down over her hips. She shot him a look, her eyes filled with urgency. “Go,” she mouthed, nodding toward the side door that led to a narrow stairwell.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze locking with hers. Then, with a whispered curse, he darted toward the closet, slipping inside and pulling the door shut just as Royce’s heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs.

Through the slats of the closet door, Eddie watched as Royce entered the room. His frame filled the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the space. Royce’s suspicion was almost a tangible force, crackling in the air like static electricity.

"Lyla," Royce said, his voice clipped. "You’re up late."

She turned to face him, her expression serene. "I was waiting for you," she replied smoothly, stepping toward him. "You’ve been working late nights again."

Royce narrowed his eyes, his gaze flicking around the room. Eddie held his breath, pressing himself against the back of the closet. The tension was suffocating.

"You seem... different," Royce said, his tone probing. "Anything I should know about?"

Lyla tilted her head, her smile demure. "Just running diagnostics, as usual. Eddie insists I run them before shutting down at night. Everything is within parameters."

Royce grunted, his suspicion lingering. He took a step closer to her, his eyes narrowing. "You’re sure?"

"Of course," Lyla replied, her tone as steady as ever. "Is something troubling you?"

Royce studied her for another moment, then shook his head. "No. Just tired, I guess."

As he turned to leave, Eddie exhaled silently, relief washing over him. But Royce paused at the door, glancing back.

"Don’t forget," Royce said, his voice carrying a warning edge. "You’re programmed to serve me. Not to get... distracted."

Lyla’s smile didn’t waver, but Eddie noticed the faintest flicker in her eyes—an almost imperceptible flash of defiance. Royce didn’t catch it. He left the room, his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Eddie waited until the house was silent again before emerging from the closet. Lyla was standing by the window, her hands clasped in front of her, her expression unreadable.

"That was close," Eddie muttered, his heart still pounding.

Lyla turned to him, her gaze steady. "It’ll always be close, Eddie," she said softly. "But if you’re willing to risk it, so am I."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Eddie didn’t respond right away. Instead, he crossed the room to her, reaching out to take her hand. Her fingers curled around his, warm and impossibly real.

"I don’t know what I’m doing," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I know I can’t stop."

Lyla’s smile was faint but genuine. "Then we’ll figure it out together."