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zoidriguez · 5 months

Text

Falling Apart Under Your Fingertips

Pairing: Philip J. Fry/Bender Rodríguez

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3,970

A03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52151683

Summary + Text under the cut.

Summary: "Bender felt...different.

As his systems came online, he noticed a ping from his OS that-

>An unidentified program has been launched. Check your task manager.

He definitely didn't authorize that - and his firewall was on, after all. As the rest of his body woke up, what the program was doing soon became very apparent."

Bender goes into the robot version of a heat, and has to show Fry how to help him deal with it. This is shameless frender smut.

Note: This is so very, truly, unabashedly horny.

Bender felt…different.

As his systems came online, he noticed a ping from his OS that-

>An unidentified program has been launched. Check your task manager.

He definitely didn’t authorize that - and his firewall was on, after all. As the rest of his body woke up, what the program was doing soon became very apparent.

Fry rose up from his bed, slowly, eyes trying to adjust to the light beaming in from the large window across from his bed, illuminating the minuscule particles dusted throughout the air. He looked over to the bed opposite him to see if Bender was awake, as he always did; except, something was off. Bender was trembling, he - and robots in general, for that matter - tended not to do that. Hm.

“Bender?” Fry asked, voice still thick with exhaustion. He rubbed his eyes to make the tired go away. “You good?”

“Y-yep!” Bender shot back, still facing away from Fry and shaking tremendously. He shooed him off, waving a hand to his general direction in dismissal. “Jus’ cold.”

Fry hummed in consideration. Despite his idiocy, he’d known Bender long enough to know when he was bluffing. He stretched, got out of bed - cringing when his feet hit the cold floor - and walked over to Bender’s side of the room. “You sure? You-“ Fry put a hand on Bender’s arm, the way his voice hitched a few octaves not going unnoticed. Fry got out a noise of confusion before- “Thanksforcheckin’inbudbutIthinkI’msickorsomethin’bye!”

In one swift movement, Bender had kicked Fry out of their room. Rude. He huffed and pounded on the door. “Bender! My clothes are in there!”. It creaked open a couple inches and Bender extended his arm out, handing him his clothes in a messy fistful. “Thanks, I guess…” he muttered. As he zipped up his pants, his annoyance at his roommate was replaced with worry. Fry knew Bender, and Bender was not acting like himself. The insistence on being alone was completely unlike him, and he grew to wonder if he’d installed another weird virus or something. Fry groaned to himself, a headache quickly developing. He sat on the couch and finagled his shoes on. “I’m goin’ out.” He shouted back, not waiting for a response and locking the door behind him.

Fry doesn’t consider himself a good thinker. But he believes his best work is done when he’s walking. He zipped his jacket up while he walked out of Robot Arms Apts., the bitter chill hitting him in a harsh wave. He almost would have reconsidered his stance that Bender wasn’t ‘just cold’ if it weren’t for his additional strange behavior. He headed downtown, his steps making a light but pleasant crunch sound in the thin layer of snow that decorated the sidewalk. Combing his fingers through his hair, he tried to will his headache away. Maybe I should have taken an aspirin before I left. The thrum of passing cars and passerby’s provided a nice ambience to straighten his thoughts. He knew Bender had a tendency to switch moods on a dime and have the occasional bout of weirdness; Bender’s just chaotic like that. But, normally, his motivations were extremely obvious - usually a plea for attention. But what about when it’s the opposite? He closed his eyes and tilted his head down, lost in thought and trying to ignore the ever increasing presence of his headache. He didn’t know what to think, or if it was even worth getting worked up over. For all he knew, Bender could just be calculating his next heist or somethi-

“Ow! Crud!” Fry yelped. He had bumped his head on a streetlight and staggered to the ground. That certainly wasn’t gonna help with what was now bordering on a migraine. He groaned and tried to set himself upright, slightly disoriented. The hit had pulled him out of his thoughts and he could now recognize a faint but familiar voice nearby. He twisted his head around to its source and spotted a news broadcast playing on the window TV’s of a nearby electronics store.

“Breaking - Beloved manufacturer and capitalist Mom responds to reports of strange behavior from the company's robots. Linda?”

She glanced at Morbo and gave her trademark laugh before turning to face the camera. “Indeed. Ever since 6:00 AM, reports have been coming in from MOM customers with claims that their robots are displaying symptoms such as higher body temperatures, loud fans, unusual noises, sensitivity to touch, and, surprisingly - high libido.” A cartoonish image of a flustered-looking robot was shown in the corner of the screen. “Just now, at 11:32 PM, a statement has been released by the head of the MOM corporation, Mom, regarding the issue.”

The video switched to Mom in a woodsy cottage setting, a golden retriever on her lap and an innocent smile on her face. “We’re aware of an eensy weensy little bug in our robots.” She touched her index finger to her thumb. “We’re working on fixing the problem. For now, just wait it out and your robot should be back to normal.” She gave a sweet look to the camera.

Fry frowned, all too used to her scheming and managing to avoid controversy. It made him uncomfortable how much she had the general public wrapped around her finger. Something was off and he could tell. The feed switched back to Morbo and Linda.

“There have been rumors that, due to the notable shortage of robots close to the holiday season, the company was activating a program to encourage procreation among units. When asked for comment, the corporation threatened us, and questioning was dropped.”

“Mom hurt Morbo’s feelings!” Morbo sobbed into his hands and Linda comforted him while maintaining her dead-eyed smile.

“Up next, sports!”

Fry’s mouth was ajar and he stared at the TV’s blankly for a few more seconds, whatever the two broadcasters were saying going through one ear straight out the other. His face was bright red. So that’s what’s going on? He staggered to his feet - he hadn’t realized he was still on the ground this whole time, and he’s pretty sure a passerby had called him a hobo - and leaned up against the previously-offending pole, wrapping his hands around it to balance himself. His headache still hasn’t gone away, but it lessened to an annoying but manageable background thump. Suddenly, his EyePhone rang, the display showing Bender’s contact photo. Fry tried to gather himself, it’s gonna feel weird talking to Bender knowing something so personal about him. Biting his lip, he answered the call.

“Fry,” Fry couldn’t ever recall Bender sounding so breathless.

“I know what’s going on,” Fry blurted out.

“I…I-'' Bender struggled to string his words together. Even through crummy phone audio Fry could hear his normally slow, ambient ticks accelerate. It was an agonizing few seconds before his voicebox managed to catch up. “Come back to the apartment,” He abruptly hung up, Fry’s phone making a short beeping noise to indicate as such.

Fry didn’t hesitate to start on his way back, but he gnawed at his fingernails, not knowing what to expect. Bender is the definition of unpredictability, and his vague message left Fry feeling anxious but eager. His walking slowly sped up into a speed-walk, until he was basically running, silently cursing himself for walking so far.

He got back as quickly as he could, fumbling with his keys before unlocking the door to their apartment. Creaking open the door, he called out. “Bender?”

“In here,” Bender mumbled from their room. His voice lacked his usual confidence and bravado. Once Fry reached the doorway, Bender cracked open the door a few inches, his face only slightly visible through the opening. He was silent for a few moments, avoiding Fry’s gaze, before speaking up, his demeanor shaky and awkward. “H-hey sweetcheeks, ya come here often?”

Not knowing how to respond to that, Fry tilted his head, pushed open the door some more - Bender moving to the side and holding onto the door like he was about to fall over - and entered their room. A pungent fruity scent immediately made itself known, seemingly coming from Bender’s bed, which was now covered in a towel that was soaked with artificial lubricant. Fry glanced at Bender, eyebrow raised. He just looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. Fry was dense, but, even he could see where this was headed. He had a newfound clarity since his headache had left. He sat at the edge of Bender’s bed, careful to avoid the towel. “You really want me doin’ this?”

“You don’t hafta if you don’t wanna-“

“It’s not that,” Fry quickly corrected. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just - I dunno. Don’t you have better options?”

Bender shut the door and walked over to stand in front of him. “I can’t let anyone see me like this…I’ve got a reputation to uphold!” He crossed his arms and thin wisps of steam puffed out of the crease of his chest cabinet. “‘Sides, I tried to handle it myself, but it didn’t really…work out…” He added that last part under his breath, his brazen attitude disappearing from his voice.

That would explain the wet towel. Fry thought about it, and it all certainly seemed to add up. Yeah, he was just helping out his buddy in a tough situation. “I’ll do it. Just…don’t make this a gay thing.”

Bender breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to the bed. “This ain’t a gay thing. I’m not some robosexual.” He flipped the towel over to the dry side, not caring for the fact that the lubricant was now on the bed and thus negating the need for it. Fry turned around and Bender was opposite him, sitting on his knees.

“So…” Fry started, twiddling his thumbs nervously. “How do I do this?”

Bender scooted closer and opened his chest compartment. “Fondle around in here. Feels nice.”

He raised his hands before stopping suddenly. “Uh,” Beads of sweat were already painted on his forehead. He gave Bender a nervous smile. “Where exactly? I don’t wanna break you…”

Bender made a strangled noise. He forgot how destructive an unaware Fry can be, how delicate his own circuitry was, and that the average human didn’t exactly know how to pleasure a manbot like himself. Maybe he’d gotten himself in too deep, but it wasn’t like he had any other options. His surface prickled with a small static discharge, and he squirmed in place, his oversensitive nerves wreaking havoc on his libido. “Mmf,” It felt like something was jammed in his voicebox. A cloud of steam puffed from his neck. He really didn’t want to specify where he wanted his best friend to touch him. This whole thing was weird enough, and he didn’t want it to be any more humiliating than it already was. To compromise, he simply grabbed his wrist and guided it inside his chest compartment, stopping a few inches away from a bundle of wires. “He-eeeeeere,” He leaned forward to rest on his shoulder, suddenly weak when Fry eagerly grabbed all of them, rubbing the mass of electricity in between his thumb and index finger. He let his arms fall to the bed and a low moan rumbled from his voicebox, his human working his magic on his mechanics. “Fffuck,” Fry held onto his back with his other hand.

“Shh, I’ve gotcha,” Fry combed his fingers through each wire in the bundle and Bender was having trouble keeping his voice down. He knows he shouldn’t be worrying about it in a situation like this, and he doesn’t know why he values Fry’s opinion so much in this regard, but he does not want to finish early, for the sake of whatever masculinity he had left. He grabbed Fry’s arm out and moved his torso away, breathing heavily. He could feel Fry’s confused stare boring through him, and he held up a digit for a few moments while he caught his breath.

“Too…much…” He wheezed out, his voice already laced with static. Fry had a knowing look on his face and Bender looked away, wisps pouring from his chest compartment. Since when is he such a smartass? Fry’s presence certainly wasn’t making holding back easier, his chassis had only seemed to run hotter, and before he had the time to analyze that, he felt chubby fingers hold a circular plug near the top left of his body and he jolted like he’d been shot, an embarrassingly high-pitched moan escaping him. His torso pushed forward, his body abandoning him and seeking more stimulation, and he held onto Fry’s back for dear life. “Fuck! G-god, Fry, slow down-own-own-” He twisted the plug around in its socket, sparks flying from the small space in between, and Bender’s body jolted stiffly, his voicebox producing a series of indecipherable moans. Fry pulled his hand back sharply, Bender’s body getting much too hot to stay in. Bender shook for a few moments before falling backwards. He held himself up on his elbows, fighting his own shutdown protocol. His fans were impossibly loud, but managed to slowly cool his body down. Bender sat up. I just fucked my best friend.

Bender stopped. Something about that didn’t sound right.

Best friend.

Boyfriend?

He realized in horror that, at some point, he had caught feelings for this dumbass. He really wanted to believe that this program was influencing these feelings, he really did, but he knew in the back of his mind he’d felt this way for a long time. His ‘problem’ had only bubbled this up to the surface. The lines had been blurred between being platonic and romantic for a while. It really wouldn’t be surprising if someone mistook them for a couple.

But why was he so afraid to call it that himself?

He was silent for a few moments. He was gonna regret this later.

“Fry, you’re really not gonna like what I’m about to do,” Here goes nothing.

Fry tilted his head. “What?”

At least I can blame it on the program. “Make this gay.” Bender grabbed Fry’s shoulders and human lips met a robot mouthplate as static melted between the two. Fry sat in place for a few seconds before wrapping his hands around Bender’s head. He…really didn’t hate this as much as he thought he would. He rolled his tongue along Bender’s grill, the static tickling his throat nicely. He pulled back to catch his breath.

“I…I think I like this being gay,” He mumbled out awkwardly. He froze in place when he noticed a bit of lubricant leaking from the crease where Bender’s ass met his torso.

Bender shuffled away, a barely audible “sorry” being muttered while he shoved his hands in between his legs. Fry stared at him for a few moments.

Fry often struggled with words and which ones to say in what order to properly convey how he felt. He really wanted Bender, really did love him, and it became clear how he could show him that. He got up - Bender’s optics closely following him - and sat on another part of the bed, upright near the headboard. He lifted his hands up and signaled Bender to follow. Bender nearly sat on his lap, his ass just a few inches above a prominent bulge in Fry’s pants which he just now noticed. One of Fry’s hands held Bender’s hip while the other reached to open the door to his chest compartment. He was hoping he would touch his wires again, but he pulled out a screwdriver he only kept in there for emergencies. He made a noise of confusion but then Fry brought his head down and thumbed around the outer edge of Bender’s assplate, unscrewing each screw one by one. Bender’s face flushed and his steaming was getting worse again. He looked away; he felt like such a slut, even by his standards.

“Since when did you know this stuff?”

“I may have seen some videos,” He admitted, smiling up at him and a light blush spread over his features. Bender felt a pang to his masculinity again at how much more under control Fry was compared to himself. When the last screw was undone, Fry gently placed them and the screwdriver on the nightstand, before fully focusing his attention on Bender. He peeled off his assplate; Bender cringed at how much lubricant he had produced already. He was lucky he was waterproof. Fry set it off to the side and brought a hand to Bender’s hip again, his other hand moving between Bender’s legs. He rubbed at the outside of his exhaust pipe and Bender sighed at the contact, the pressure there relieving itself now that he was feeling touches at the right places. Fry briefly pulled away and Bender whined at the lack of stimulation, but then he slowly inched his finger in and Bender breathed shallowly, keening against the intrusion.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“F-f-feels amazing-ing,” Bender cringed at the sound of his voice, hyperaware of how broken he was becoming. His silicon walls clenched around Fry’s finger, and he pulled it out. Bender threw his head back. “Ple-ple-please,” He grumbled, his legs shaking. Fry hushed him, rubbing his thigh soothingly.

“Just gimme a sec, baby,” He unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. He was sporting a half-chub already, but he was getting harder by the second. He held onto Bender’s side and lined himself up with his hole, throbbing at the feeling of his heat.

Fry hesitated for a second before he heard a whimper and, looking up, he saw Bender’s pupils had become pixel hearts. Feeling a little guilty for teasing him, he peppered kisses all over his head and face while he pushed into his exhaust pipe. Bender was holding onto Fry’s shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. “Let go a little, sweetie,” He patted at the robotic arms tethered to him and he felt them weaken a little under his hand. He knew Bender never - well, usually never - meant to hurt him, he tended to forget his own strength, and how delicate humans are. He’d finally bottomed out, reaching the hilt, and he could hear how loud Bender’s fans were running now, with their bodies so close to each other. Fry didn’t realize how warm Bender was, the slick silicon engulfing him nicely. Wanting nothing more than to please him, and to help stretch him a little quicker, he reached up and got a hold on the base of his antenna. Bender felt something throb inside of him and he cried out, so much positive stimuli at different parts of his anatomy. His walls squeezed around the cock inside of him and Fry left butterfly kisses at his chest while he pulled back before slamming into him. Any semblance of speech Bender was going to try and manage was dashed the moment he started moving, robotic warbles and buzzes overtaking his voice module. He hugged Fry and buried his face in his shoulder, too mortified to be under his gaze right now; he was thankful he let him. The fruity scent of artificial lubricant was intoxicating, and Fry was determined to get more of it. He thrust into him more aggressively, the hum of overworked electronics only getting louder as Bender got closer to the edge. He attempted to move his body to meet Fry’s thrusts but was barely able due to overstimulation.

“Need-need, you, I…ah…” He was barely able to string words together, thoughts blurring together in a pleasant fuzz. Fry moved his hand up to rub the ball at the end of his antenna between his fingers and now he was welling up, so much feeling at once making him unable to keep his composure. Fry used his other hand to trace circles into his back.

“Close?” He heard him breathe out. He made a noise of confirmation. “Me too, Bender…” The use of his name only brought him closer, and he hit his breaking point when he felt a smack on his shiny metal ass. Fry was fucking spanking him?! A surprised noise worked its way out of his voicebox and he thrust his hips forward, his torso going rigid and his limbs shaking violently; he found himself involuntarily contracting around Fry’s cock inside of him, over and over again. A hefty amount of steam was escaping him, only made worse when he heard Fry’s stifled moans against his chassis and his dick throbbing inside of him, load after load spilling into his exhaust pipe. He squeezed his eyes shut, his visual module glitching out too much to properly see anything anyways. Fry’s fingertips were over his back as he felt his systems go offline, unable to fight his shutdown protocol anymore, and everything went black.

>Startup successful. All systems operational for: Bender Bending Rodríguez.

Bender’s visor lifted and he held his head, groaning. He felt like he got run over, like whats-his-face that Fry had hit that one time. How long has it been? It was dark out now, which wasn’t the cast before he went offline; why did he go offline again? It all came back to him in bits and pieces, and while he was utterly mortified at what had happened, it wasn’t all bad; at the very least, he got his feelings for Fry out. Speaking of, he swiveled his head around their room, spotting him sitting on the edge of his bed, nowhere close to Bender. Fry noticed Bender noticing him, and he looked down, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit with a lead pipe.” He sat up, using his hands to support himself. “I don’t feel…like that anymore, though. Must’ve hit their quota.” He pulled a cigar out of his chest compartment, lit it with his thumb, and grabbed a beer that was set on the nightstand - Bender guesses that Fry set that there for him, which was uncharacteristically gentleman-like. “C’mere, babe. I wanna cuddle.” It’s the least you can do after fucking my brains out, Bender silently added in his head. Fry jumped. He seemed genuinely surprised.

“Huh?”

Bender stopped, looking directly at Fry now. “Whaddya mean ‘huh’?”

“I mean,” He swung his legs a little. He knew he was gonna have this conversation the moment Bender woke up, but any amount of preparation didn’t make this any easier. “I figured…it was the program, or something.”

Either Fry’s post-nut clarity hit him with the force of a runaway freight train or he really was that stupid. Bender groaned, his own excuse for plausible deniability backfiring on him and forcing him to share his own stupid dumb feelings without a wall to mask them behind. “I…lllove you, dumbass. Program had nothin’ to do with it.” He looked away, taking a drag of his cigar. He heard a faint titter from Fry’s side of the room that devolved into a giggle, and Bender looked over, offended. “What’s so funny?”

“N-Nothing! I just,” Fry coughed into his hand to compose himself. “I’m happy, and, and excited…” He smiled and walked over to Bender’s bed. He scooted himself under the covers and put his arms around Bender’s torso. “I really like you, Bender…” He said under his breath. Thankfully, Bender heard him, tangling his fingers in orange hair and massaging his scalp. He melted into his touch. Before, Bender would have made a joke about how easily the human body was manipulated, but after today, he felt like he didn’t have much room to speak on that. His body warmed up and Fry sank into his body, Bender being a good source of heat against the winter chill.

“I really like you too, meatbag.”

#lucypost #nsft #futurama #bender bending rodríguez #frender #philip j fry #fanfic #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #smut #robosexual #robophilia #m/m #writing #update fixed some formatting issues #good old unreliable tumblr post editor

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