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..:: FanFiction
::.. |
It's difficult to describe a feeling, that I try to forget, to come back to the
real world.
Corvus
Corax. Mean Raven. Cleverest bird of all.
His hair was as dark as the black feathers of a raven. It lifted gentle, when he
crashed down on his face and a bleeding wound glittered in the dazzling light of
the underground-station. An endless moment passed by, till he prepared himself
to fight again. Smith could have killed him in this moment.
But he didn't.
He didn't want to.
He enjoyed.
Was it an error in his program that he didn't take this chance?
Of course it was, his self-analysis proofed it, the problem was, that he didn't
care. He ignored the fact, that a lot of errors occurred in him, when he neared
this human, he ignored the orders of the system, that screamed through his
earphone into his head, in this moment only one thing was important...
this feeling.
This unpleasant feedback, coming from the overload of his program, caused by
working on too much information.
Too much information.
His enemy stood up. Smith watched him.
He could throw him down, he could kill him!
What prevented him from doing it? What made him wait? What made him investigate?
What made him watch this human with such devotion?
Devotion.
Smith wondered about this word for a second. A second was a short measure of
time - for a human. Time to get a stable position and to clench the fists. It
was eternity - for Smith.
Devotion was human.
Error.
Ignore.
Only one thing was important...
this feeling.
He went over to this writhing human. His enemy was shaking. Out of pain?
Nervousness? Cold? Stimulation...?
Unimportant!
Too much information!
But it was... interesting.
He enjoyed.
Suddenly Smith stopped. The pale, thin face of the human turned around, his eyes
stared at him.
Error!
Ignore!
Only one thing was important...
this feeling.
He got lost in those big, dark eyes, which looked at him so provoking, he was
delighted of the bleeding tear on those tender lips, this warm, soft, so
vulnerable skin...
Smith wasn't aware of the changing foothold of his enemy. A fist hit his brest,
he couldn't manage to block it. He fell backwards. It was too difficult to
concentrate! This feeling - The orders of the screaming system - Too much
information -
Kill him!
Soft lips...
Block his attacks!
What muscles...
Kill him!
Why didn't he block? Why was he wondering about words of the human language?
About unimportant information of the bodily structure of this human?
Investigating the bodily structure was routine, a programmed impulse for the
enlargement of knowledge, to use the human body weakness.
The fight was routine. Hit, block, block, hit, block, hit.
He smashed his enemy against a wall and gave him some powerful strikes into the
stomach.
Silence.
A crumble in the brittle wall.
A deeply afflicted breath.
Smith heard him, watched him, felt him, seconds were eternity, they burned into
his program, he inhaled every information he could get, every detail of this
human - this muscular body, this convulsions, this smell, this rattling breath,
this eyes...
Their faces were only a few inches apart. Smith saw into Thomas A. Anderson's
lovely, exhausted face and forgot all his orders.
His last hard strike brought Mr. Anderson off his balance - he fell straight on
Smith!
Smith caught him, pressed this human body against his. The deeply afflicted
breath... changed. It was different. Pleasured.
And somehow... lascivious.
Horny...?
He listened to the sound of Mr. Anderson's slow breath a few more seconds, then
they looked at each other flabbergasted. The situation was very strange for
Smith, he knew that something was wrong with him, he knew it since the first day
he met Mr. Anderson...
His hands still grasped tight around this beautiful human, who was pressed
against his chest. None of them thought about fighting anymore. Smith enjoyed
the body heat, the warm breath, that caressed his neck and those hands slowly
touching and pinching his chest, watched this face coming near to his...
Mr. Anderson gave him a timid kiss, soft lips touched his mouth.
Kill him!
Those *soft* lips...
Kill him!
Oh, those wonderful, warm, soft lips!
Smith twitched in delight, but their lips parted. Mr. Anderson retreated,
protected his face, preparing for another hard strike from Smith, who would smash
him down now! But Smith took him in his arms again. He whimpered as if it was
his deepest wish to touch him again. Smith wanted to feel him, this body, this
breath, this hands, which tickled his neck -
Error! Unprotected neck! Suffocation!
Ignore...
Smith closed his eyes. If he had to die now, it was the most wonderful death he
could ever have...
Fingers stroked his neck, his hair, took off his sunglasses, passed lightly over
his face, his shoulders and down his back... he opened his eyes and the face he
desired so much was so near - so near!
The sudden grip on his buttocks drew a *peculiar high* moan from him - in the
same moment Mr. Anderson used the thin slit between his lips to enter his mouth
with his tongue. Nothing was more important now, his program refused all orders
of the system to kill Mr. Anderson - *his* Mr. Anderson - he forgot everything,
the Matrix, the reality, only one thing was important...
this feeling! It was so... *great*! Smith lost control over his own tongue,
wanted everything, the taste, the smell, the touch, the heat - and only the
thought of his lovely Mr. Anderson kissing him made him hard. An odd and unusual
reaction. Of course his program was able to accomplish this human reaction...
just
like the other agents... he knew that...
Suddenly he felt a very tight grip around his ass, a pounding human warmth
rubbing between his legs and a hand that opened his trousers and...
"Neo..."
He eyes opened wide. The name he never wanted to think, to *say*, came out of
him in one long breath. His trousers slit down, but he didn't care, he was too
busy kissing *Neo*, linking with him, loving him...
"Neo... Neo... Ne-OH!"
Neo grabbed his penis and stroked it. Hard. Smith moaned loud into Neos mouth,
who devoured him, kissed and licked him everywhere their tongues could meet and
brought him closer and closer to a wonderful climax. All physical laws broke
down, he melted in his arms...
Then an awful coldness surrounded him, Neo ran up the stairs of the underground
station, left him alone, without a word. Smith watched him. Nothing hurt more
than...
this feeling.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
"Good morning."
Smith opened his eyes. Brown lay beside him, caressing his face. Jones was
dressed and stood at the other site of the room, pulling his suit in the right
position.
"You had a peculiar long sleep, Smith."
"Excuse me."
"Not worth mentioning."
As Jones turned around to correct his neck-tie, Brown gave Smith a soft kiss on
his forehead. Brown wasn't dressed and the warm damp spot on his leg showed,
that he had slept on him this night. Smith enjoyed the knee between his legs,
still rubbing the inner side of his buttocks. Jones looked at them and kept on
talking in the monotone, emotionless voice, that drove Smith mad. Every night.
"You don't seem to be functionating within normal parameters, if you fall
for imitating human behaviour too often. You know what happened last time...
with this human."
Smith gave his answer with the same monotone voice .
"Never send a human to do a machine's job."
Brown laughed. Smith too. Jones looked at them very irritated.
"You both should make a self-analysis."
Jones made a knot into his neck-tie, when Brown gave Smith a long and loving
kiss.
Nothing was more important than...
this feeling.
