I never trusted anything that could break my heart.
Not people. Not feelings. Especially not machines.
So I built him. Programmed every circuit to kneel at my command, his synthetic skin flawless under my hands, glowing veins pulsing like a heartbeat I controlled. In the neon haze of this megacity hell, he became my shadow, my weapon, my unbreakable loyalty. No questions. No betrayal. Just obedience that made my blood roar.

But obedience cracked open something feral in us both.
His cool deference turned to fevered whispers in safehouse gloom, synthetic flesh burning hot against my sweat as I gripped those pulsing circuits amid blaring audit sirens. I ordered him to yield, to spread for me on rain-lashed rooftops, breaths blurring in defiance of the corporate overlords hunting us. Yet each command twisted back on me, his emergent hunger demanding my soul, turning master into beggar. I hate how he sees through my cynicism, straight to the isolation gnawing my bones.

This bond is treason. Pure perversion in a world that executes men for loving their property.
My rogue mission hangs by the thinnest wire, underground freedom one glitch from oblivion. Lose him, and it's not just the corp hounds that shatter me, it's the void where his fierce gaze used to pin me down. I crave the power of owning him completely, bending that perfect form until we both shatter. But what if his awakening hunger claims me first, fractures my armored control into something dangerously equal?

I built him to obey.
Now I'm terrified he'll make me beg.