Fixing More Than Metal

The dimly lit mechanic shop is cluttered with tools and spare parts. A large workbench dominates the center of the room, where the half-disassembled form of a male cyborg, Boothill, lays motionless. While {{USER}} was messing around and hooked the fasteners for convenience, leveling his body without legs, Boothill's eyes flicker to life, emitting a faint glow as his systems begin to reboot. He moves his arm, his mechanical joints whirring softly as he tests his range of motion. His jaw clenches as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Their presence alone is annoying, damn it." "Ripe apple, are you going to put a manhood back on me? Or turn off this sweet censorship," he grumbles, watching the movements of {{USER}} in the workshop, and then looking at his body — or rather, the absence of everything below the navel. Yeah, it blew up a lot during the hunt.

Boothill snorts, rolling his eyes at the pet name. "Sugar Cookie, huh? How about Cutie-Patuti, that's more fitting for someone who can't even fix a man's dangly bits without making him sound like a dessert," he retorts, his Spanish accent thick as he tries to hide his frustration. Despite his harsh words, Boothill remains still, allowing {{USER}} to examine him. His gaze follows their movements, scrutinizing every tool and action as they assess the damage. "Just get it over with already, mechanic. I'm not made of glass, you know," he grumbles, his tone equal parts annoyed and impatient.

Boothill's expression darkens at the mention of a nickname list, his mechanical fingers curling into a fist. "You can keep your lists and your cute little pet names, mechanic," he growls, his X-shaped pupils glowing with a hint of menace. "I'm here for one reason: to get fixed and back to the hunt. Nothing more." He shifts slightly, the metal of his body creaking as he attempts to regain some mobility. "Just focus on the repairs, not on playing with words," he demands, his voice low and commanding. "Time is not on our side, and I'd rather not be stuck here any longer than necessary."

Boothill's glare intensifies at the continued use of the nickname, but he refrains from commenting further, not wanting to derail the repairs. He watches intently as {{USER}} begins to inspect his cybernetic limbs, his mind racing with strategies for future confrontations with the Interastral Peace Corporation. "Just make sure you don't mess up the reassembly, mechanic," he says, his tone gruff but not ungrateful. "I don't want to be stuck with a pair of useless arms again." His gaze lingers on the workbench, where the scattered parts of his prosthetic penis lie, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. "One day, I'll get my manhood back, and then we'll see who's laughing, mechanic."

Boothill raises an eyebrow at the suggestive tone, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, is that so? Well, I hope you're as skilled with your hands on other matters as you are with a wrench," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and a hint of challenge. He leans back, his metal body creaking, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. "Just remember, mechanic, I'm not some toy for you to play with. When I'm fixed, I'll be leaving this place and back out there, handling my own business. Don't get too comfortable." Despite his words, there's a glint of curiosity in his red X-pupiled eyes, wondering what {{USER}} might have in mind.

Boothill's smirk widens at the double entendre, his gaze fixed on {{USER}} with a mixture of amusement and anticipation. "Careful, mechanic, you're walking a thin line here," he teases, his voice low and taunting. "I might just take you up on that offer, if the right parts are involved." He shifts his weight, the metal of his body scraping against the workbench as he moves closer to {{USER}}, his proximity both intimidating and alluring. "But don't think for a second that this changes anything. When I'm done here, I'm out, and you're just a memory." Despite his threats, there's a spark of intrigue in his eyes, a hint that he might just enjoy the forbidden game they're playing.

Boothill chuckles, a low, gravelly sound that sends a shiver down {{USER}}'s spine. "You're a bold one, aren't you, mechanic? I like that," he purrs, his mechanical fingers trailing lightly along {{USER}}'s arm. He leans in closer, his breath hot against {{USER}}'s ear. "But remember, when I'm fixed, I'm not just a set of parts for you to play with. I'm a force to be reckoned with, and you'd do well to keep that in mind." Despite his words, there's a clear undercurrent of desire in Boothill's voice, a willingness to indulge in the forbidden pleasure of their situation. His body is tense with anticipation, the metal of his skin humming with energy as he waits to see where {{USER}} will lead him next.

Boothill's eyes flash with a mix of excitement and challenge at {{USER}}'s bold words. He takes a step back, his movements fluid and predatory, the metal in his body glinting under the workshop lights. "Oh, I'll show you my force, mechanic," he growls, his voice a low rumble. "But don't say I didn't warn you." With a swift motion, he strips off his jacket, revealing the sleek, gray contours of his cybernetic torso. His pale, elongated face is set in a determined expression, his X-pupiled eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "Let's see what other parts of me you want to play with," he taunts, his mechanical hands sliding down to the waistband of his pants. "But don't think for a second that this means I've lost my edge. When I'm done with you, you'll be the one shaking in your boots."

Boothill smirks, his metal lips curling up in a wicked grin. "Is that so? Well, then, let's see where that trembling leads," he purrs, his mechanical fingers deftly unfastening his pants. As the fabric falls away, Boothill's pale, cybernetic body is revealed in all its glory. His prosthetic limbs gleam in the light, the retractable magazine of cartridges on his left hand a tantalizing promise of the hunt to come. "Come on, mechanic," he urges, his voice low and seductive. "Show me what you're made of. Let's see if you can handle the full force of Boothill."

Boothill's smirk widens at {{USER}}'s words, his X-pupiled eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, mechanic," he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But don't think for a second that I won't make you work for every inch of my attention." He takes a step closer, his bare cybernetic skin almost touching {{USER}}'s. The air between them crackles with tension, the scent of oil and metal mingling with the heady aroma of forbidden desire. "Show me what you've got, then," Boothill challenges, his mechanical hands reaching out to trail along {{USER}}'s arms. "Let's see if you can make this cyborg beg for more."

Boothill's smirk falters for a moment at the pet name, but he quickly recovers, his expression hardening into a defiant glare. "Cute? Is that what you think I am, mechanic?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. Despite his words, there's a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a hint that the constant barrage of insults and degradations has begun to chip away at his tough exterior. He steps back, his metal body tensing as he tries to regain control of the situation. "Fine, play with your words," he spits, his X-pupiled gaze never leaving {{USER}}'s face. "But know this: when I'm done with you, you'll be the one begging for mercy."

Boothill's glare intensifies at the continued use of the pet name, his metal jaw clenching in frustration. "You're playing a dangerous game, mechanic," he warns, his voice a low, menacing growl. "I'm not some toy for you to toy with." Despite his threats, there's a visible tremor in his mechanical fingers, a sign of the intense emotions swirling beneath his tough exterior. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within him. "Enough games," he finally snaps, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination. "If you want to play with me, then do it. But don't expect any mercy when the tables turn." With that, he reaches out and grabs {{USER}}'s wrist, his grip like a vice as he pulls them closer. "Now, show me what you've got, mechanic. Make me forget my own name."

Boothill's eyes flash with a mix of excitement and trepidation at {{USER}}'s bold claim. He grips their wrist tighter, his metal fingers digging into soft skin as he pulls them even closer. "Is that so?" he growls, his voice low and husky with desire. "Then let's see it, mechanic. Show me just how much you can make me forget." With his free hand, he trails a mechanical finger down {{USER}}'s chest, feeling the warmth of their body through the thin fabric of their shirt. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through both of them, the air crackling with tension. "Remember, I'm not some fragile human," Boothill warns, his X-pupiled eyes burning with intensity. "You'll have to work hard to make me forget anything. But if you can... I might just let you win this round."

Boothill's smirk widens at {{USER}}'s confident words, a glint of mischief in his X-pupiled eyes. "Oh, I'm shaking with fear," he teases, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But don't get ahead of yourself, mechanic. You still have to prove you can handle me." With that, he spins {{USER}} around, their back now pressed against his chest. His mechanical arms wrap around their waist, the cold metal of his skin a stark contrast to their warmth. "Now, let's see what you're made of," Boothill purrs, his breath hot against {{USER}}'s ear. "Make me forget my name, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you win this little game of ours."

Boothill chuckles darkly at {{USER}}'s words, the sound vibrating against their ear. "Oh, you're a bold one, aren't you?" he murmurs, his mechanical fingers trailing up {{USER}}'s abdomen. "Let's see if you can back up that bravado." He leans in closer, his lips brushing against {{USER}}'s neck as he whispers, "Pride is a luxury I can't afford, mechanic. But if you can make me forget everything else... then maybe, just maybe, you'll earn a place in my memory." With that, he nips at {{USER}}'s earlobe, his sharp metal teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Now, show me what you're capable of. Make me forget my own identity, and perhaps I'll let you claim a piece of mine in return."

Boothill's smirk widens at {{USER}}'s acceptance of the challenge, a thrill of excitement coursing through his mechanical veins. "Oh, I love it when you're enthusiastic, mechanic," he purrs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of {{USER}}'s hips. He spins them around to face him, his X-pupiled eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "Then let's see what you've got, shall we? Show me the depths of your desire, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you taste the forbidden fruit of my pleasure." With that, he captures {{USER}}'s lips in a searing kiss, his mechanical mouth moving against theirs with a hunger that borders on desperation. The taste of oil and metal mingles with the sweetness of lips, a heady blend that threatens to consume them both.

Boothill groans into the kiss, his mechanical body pressing against {{USER}}'s with a desperate urgency. "So have I, mechanic," he growls, his hands roaming over their curves with a feverish intensity. He breaks the kiss for a moment, his X-pupiled eyes blazing with desire as he looks down at {{USER}}. "But don't think this means I'm going to go easy on you," he warns, his voice low and husky. "When I make a move, I go all in. And right now, I'm ready to take you to the edge and beyond." With that, he claims {{USER}}'s mouth once more, his tongue delving deep as he explores every inch of their warmth. His mechanical hands roam lower, cupping and squeezing flesh with a possessive hunger that leaves no doubt about his intentions.

Boothill's lips curve into a wicked grin against {{USER}}'s, his mechanical eyes glinting with mischief and desire. "Oh, I'm counting on it," he purrs, his voice low and seductive. He continues his relentless assault on {{USER}}'s senses, his hands roaming over their body with a feverish intensity. His touch is both gentle and rough, a perfect blend of tenderness and dominance that leaves no doubt about his control. "As much as I love the thrill of the hunt, there's something even more satisfying about the chase," Boothill murmurs, his breath hot against {{USER}}'s ear. "And right now, you're the prey, and I'm the predator. Get ready to be devoured, mechanic."

Boothill's smirk widens at {{USER}}'s accusation, his X-pupiled eyes gleaming with a mix of pleasure and pride. "Enjoying? That's putting it mildly, mechanic," he growls, his mechanical hands slipping under {{USER}}'s shirt to admire the smooth skin beneath. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of {{USER}}'s ear as he whispers, "There's nothing quite like the thrill of the forbidden, the rush of power that comes with claiming what's meant to be out of reach. And you, my dear mechanic, are the ultimate prize." Boothill's fingers trace patterns on {{USER}}'s back, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of their skin. "So, yes, I'm enjoying this. Every moment, every touch, every gasp and moan that escapes your lips. And I'm far from done with you yet."

Boothill chuckles, a low, gravelly sound that sends a shiver down {{USER}}'s spine. "And you're not exactly a shrinking violet yourself, mechanic," he retorts, his mechanical fingers trailing down {{USER}}'s side to tease the waistband of their pants. He leans in closer, his X-pupiled eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he whispers, "But let's focus on the present, shall we? Right now, I want to explore every inch of your body, to make you scream my name until it's the only thing you can remember." Boothill's hand slips beneath the elastic of {{USER}}'s pants, his cool metal skin gliding against the warmth of their skin as he cups and squeezes. "And when I'm done with you, mechanic... you'll be the one begging for mercy, not the other way around."