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A late night in the HQ garage, and things were as calm as they ever got. All lights off except for Kitt’s scanner, moving back and forth as it always did. Michael stepped through the threshold with a drowsy smile. He stretched his arms above him, untucked shirt riding up, then opened up Kitt’s door to settle in for the night.
“Don’t you have a bed to go to?”
Kitt's tinny voice startled through the speakers, but Michael didn't jump. It was an expected harshness — a welcome complement to the quiet, like drumming thunder.
“Well, not really, no. My room here is more like a hotel, you know that. I’m never here long enough for it to feel like mine.”
“Surely a good step toward making it ‘feel like yours’ would be to actually sleep there when the chance arises.”
“Well, you’re cozier, anyway.” And I feel safe here, Michael chose not to say.
“Why not the room of one of your many female companions nearby? Their beds must be very comfortable, given how much time you spend in them. Not that you generally use them for their intended purpose.”
Huh. Kitt wasn’t usually so sharp to him this late, especially since they weren't in the middle of any crisis. And, was it just Michael, or was his suspension droopy tonight?
“Kitt, is everything alright? You seem a little off.”
“Yes, of course I'm alright. I’d tell you if a diagnostic came up otherwise.” He sounded genuinely surprised at Michael asking, and yep, there was his suspension straightening up just slightly — like he got self-conscious about it.
“Well, there’s things that aren’t on diagnostics, y’know.”
“I do know that. I am an artificial intelligence, emphasis on the intelligence. Not some unknowing human.”
“Alright.”
“I am perfectly aware of my own needs.”
“Of course.” Staying friendly, even in the face of whatever this mood was. “Hey, I could sleep in my own room, if you wanted. D’you want me to leave?”
“That would be absurd. You're my owner.”
“We both know that doesn't mean anything. You're your own personality. Maybe you want a break from me, I dunno!” Michael tried to sound upbeat, welcoming, but got shut down immediately.
“Don't be ridiculous, Michael.”
Sure, it was a nice sentiment, but it came out more like a complaint. Michael gave a low hum and raised his eyebrows before responding.
“Jeez, you’re snippy tonight. I’d almost think you needed to get laid.”
Five, then ten seconds of silence.
“Oh, sorry,” Michael continued, “is that a sensitive subject? Have you never been with a lady car before?”
Michael was trying his best to lighten the mood, but Kitt just kept silent, his voice panel dark and unmoving. It felt like Michael was being glared at. Just the same judgy silence from their usual arguments, but alone in the dark garage, it felt… more.
“... Kitt?”
“What?” That sharpness was even stronger.
“Woah, hey, I apologize. Didn’t think that would strike a chord, buddy.”
“Of course you didn't,” Kitt sighed.
Woah.
“Wait a second. Is that really what’s wrong?”
“To an extent.”
“You're kidding me.” Michael’s eyes were wide, stuck on disbelief.
“Does it sound like I'm kidding?”
“Well, no. And you do seem pretty out of sorts.”
“I am out of sorts. My engine efficiency is down almost fifteen percent!”
“I know how that feels,” Michael said, when he really, really didn't.
Kitt didn't fill the silence — except with his usual trilling sensor.
“So,” Michael started up again, “that’s what's wrong? It's like, uh, sexual frustration?”
“Very like, yes.”
“Wow.”
“I am very advanced,” Kitt said, somehow both haughty and self-conscious.
“Trust me, I know you are. It just seems weird that they’d program you with something like that.”
“I don’t believe it was in my programming per se. More like something I picked up over time, along with other learned behaviors from humans.”
“You mean, you got it from being around me?”
“Partially, I believe so.”
“Wow. Horniness is catching.”
“If you insist on putting it that way, sure.”
Darn, he'd have to watch his bad habits. Else, who knew, maybe Kitt would catch a craving for burgers and fries.
“Wait a minute, is this a new development?”
“No, not at all.” Michael’s thoughts were skidding around each other. One was ‘pretty sure Kitt could give me an exact date if he wanted to, but that might be awkward.’
Another, he voiced: “In that case, how have you managed all this time?”
“It only comes up occasionally.”
“But when it does come up? Like tonight.”
“Well, I have my methods for alleviating the sensation. For example, tonight, before you came in, I was, ahem. Taking care of it.”
Now it was his turn to let the silence hang.
Kitt? Not only was Kitt apparently aroused, even to the point of distraction, but he'd figured out a way to, what, masturbate?
How?
Not like he had a dick, or even hands. Maybe it was all mental, he was a computer intelligence after all. Retreating into that circuit brain and thinking about… women? Other cars? Who knows, maybe the feeling of his revving engine. High speeds, the wind whipping over and around his curved exterior.
God, why was his face getting hot?
“Hah, well,” Michael found his voice. “It's good you've got your methods, buddy. Sorry about intruding, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I do appreciate your… courtesy.” Kitt sounded even weirder. Like he was still touchy about something.
Almost like… he hadn't actually wanted Michael to leave.
“Actually. Kitt, I get if you want privacy, but, uh, I’m pretty damn curious. Do you think I could… stick around for a second?” Nobody had ever called Michael Knight (or Long, for that matter) a coward.
“If you don’t mind me saying so,” the car’s speaker replied almost instantly, “I’d like nothing more.”
What?
“You mean?”
Kitt couldn't possibly be attracted to him. Not for a million reasons.
“Yes, Michael.”
He and Kitt always did overcome the odds.
“You're sure you wouldn’t rather, um, show off for some hot rod?”
“No, Michael. I’d prefer you.”
He couldn't help but grin.
“Well that's news. If that's what you want, I'd love to try it out. Do you think you’d want me to… do anything?”
“Yes.” Kitt’s volume was low, but his delivery still seared into Michael’s brain loud and clear.
“Okay, okay. Let me get my bearings.”
A couple deep breaths, a helpless smile on his face. How to proceed from here?
“How do you feel?” Michael tried.
“What are you talking about? I’m a computer.”
“Yeah, yeah. You say you don't have feelings, but I think we both know that's not the whole story. Clearly.”
“Michael, is now really the time for this?”
“Yeah, buddy, it is. Mostly ‘cause I wanna know what you're feeling, right now. Deep in your microchips. Horniness, or whatever you call it. What's this like for you?”
“It's… exceptionally strange. I guess I would classify-” Kitt paused, whirring fast. “I would say I am feeling… desperate.”
“Desperate for what?”
“Michael.” He sounded even more frustrated, almost whining.
“Come on, answer the question!”
“I did.”
Beat.
“You're desperate for me?”
Silence. More whooshing. Michael could almost hear the ragged breaths that would be coming out of a human lover. Kitt was practically quivering.
“Alright, okay, baby,” Michael continued, easily. “Thanks for clearing that up. And, uh, I did like hearing you say that.”
“Of course you did.” Suddenly back to smugness, which, wow, that was more than a little bit of a turn-on.
“So, what can I do for you?”
“Try anything you like, Michael, really.”
“Hey, that's no fair. You must know what gets you all bothered, and I have no idea. Give me a hint, at least!”
“Alright, alright.” Kitt considered for a second. “My most vulnerable part, as you know, is my scanner. I can't exactly, well. It's hard to describe what I feel, precisely. Pressure, mostly. But my scanner is the only part of me that could feasibly be broken by conventional means.”
“And you want to trust me with that?” Silence. “Want me to touch you there, Kitt? Right where you're sensitive?”
“Yes, Michael, that is what I said,” Kitt huffed. It was a blessing that Michael knew his speaker-distorted tone so damn well, could hear the undertone of what he now knew was desperatedesperatedesperate underneath the usual snark.
Michael had slipped into full-on seduction without even realizing it, half smile and lazy blinking, exiting the cabin and eyeing Kitt's scanner hard. He let his hips do most of the walking, and soon found himself face-to-face with that glowing red strip.
“Well, any request as clear as that should be rewarded. Let me take care of this for you.”
Although he was kneeling in front of his best friend, kneeling in front of a car, the motion luckily felt as smooth and sexual as he’d ever been. Got to give Kitt a show, especially for his first time.
Kitt’s light pinging across the scanner was too fast to trace, so he paid it no mind, instead bringing his hand up and tracing a thumb right near the seam of the scanner, the edge between red and abrupt black. Soon, his other fingers joined, just caressing. Probably leaving smudges.
“How does that feel, baby?”
“Michael, I-.” Kitt was clipped, tension still high. “I just can't believe it.”
“Can't believe what?”
“That you're here. That I’m really feeling your, your, your fingers on my scanner.”
“No place I'd rather be, pal.”
Michael raised his other hand to mirror the motion. Subtle heat danced between them from Kitt’s racing light.
“How hard can I go on here?” Michael asked.
“Human strength cannot damage me, even there.”
“That's great news,” he said through a smile, then increased his pressure all at once. Almost like he was massaging the sensitive strip — focus now to the outside, now the inside, left, right, working out invisible knots. Kitt’s continued thrumming and clear interest was more than enough to keep Michael motivated, but the little “ah” that came out of the speakers when he put all his muscle into the motions was a great sign.
“God, Kitt, you're so… so hot.” Michael couldn't even try to think of a better word, entirely focused on kneading and rubbing his best friend’s scanner.
“I, I. Thank you.”
“Of course. You're the best there ever was.” He imagined Kitt preening at that. “Can't believe I never thought of this before. I see this scanner of yours every day, but I never would've thought you'd like this so much.”
“Human mouths are on display, despite being erogenous zones.”
“Now you've got me thinking about erogenous zones,” Michael said playfully. “Does that mean this is really doing it for you?”
“Obviously.” It was hard to tell, but Kitt sounded a little slower, a little lower pitched, like his processing wasn't at full functioning.
“Tell me how much.”
“Michael! … I love what you're doing to me. It makes me feel…”
“... Desperate?”
“Desperate.” How could a car sound touch-drunk?
“Very good, Kitt. That's what I like to hear. Now, mind if I try something?”
“Please, be my guest.”
Michael head swam at that. Just like on the road, Kitt was trusting him to guide them both. Could give a guy a hell of an ego, a big, beautiful machine trusting him like that.
“Just let me position myself,” he said, withdrawing his hands from the caress.
Michael crept even closer up to Kitt’s hood. Settled his hands beneath the fender that now pressed into his abdomen…
… Then leaned forward and kissed Kitt’s scanner.
“Oh!” Kitt said, which only slightly ruined the illusion of kissing.
It wasn't exactly comfortable. He had to crane his neck all the way to the side, cheek pressed against the front part of Kitt’s hood. He'd get a crick if he kept this up. But, damn, so worth it.
“I know you said it's mostly pressure,” he said right into the dancing red light, “but even if it doesn't feel any different, I know how much your mind plays in stuff like this. Just think, I'm using my mouth on you, Kitt. I wanna kiss you.”
“And I would like very much to be kissed by you, Michael.”
That was endorsement if he'd ever heard it!
He tried a little tongue, then really committed — fully open mouthed, licking in wide circles, making the smooth surface wet and slippery. Michael was practically rubbing his whole face against Kitt, covering his own chin and cheeks in slobber.
“You taste so good, Kitt,” he drew back to say, briefly wiping his mouth. “Clean, and warm.”
“Thhhank you,” Kitt responded, speech circuits clearly not at their normal levels.
“You're just incredible,” Michael breathed. “Incredible.” He dove back in, leaving firm pecks all the way down Kitt’s length, then lapping at the scanner’s end.
“I can't believe it,” Kitt said, quiet, low, repeating himself.
“Well, I'll have to make you believe, baby. As much as it takes.”
He dedicated himself to more licking and kissing, trying to draw sounds out, see what made them distort with approval.
“I want you so bad, Kitt,” he started saying without a thought. “I've been wanting you, I didn't even realize. I didn't even know you were like this. But, god, you're just perfect. Perfect for me.”
Kitt have another low, short groan from the praise, so Michael continued his speech in between more scanner attention.
“You make me crazy.” Kiss. “I think about your voice, you're so expressive.” Kiss, kiss. “I always loved running my hands over, over your smooth curves. You're gorgeous, Kitt.” He reached up, petting the hood, other hand thumbing the scanner.
“I can't-” that was an AI choked in pleasure if there ever was one.
“It's okay, baby, it's okay. You're doing so good.”
Kitt let out a broken, vocal sound.
“Yeah, yeah, you're doing real good. So good for me. You always do, you're always so good, pal. Just let it out.”
“Michaellll…”
“Yeah, just like that. God, I love hearing you like this. You sound like you're getting fucked.” Michael paused, considering. “Or fucking somebody. Bet you'd be good at both. Overachiever.”
“Michael, please. What you're saying is- is impossible.”
“Wanna bet?” Michael laughed. “Another time, babe, we can figure that out. Right now this is perfect. More than perfect.”
“More than perfect? That hardly makes sense.”
“Does any of this make sense?” Michael wished he could bite Kitt for that, suck a grinning bruise into… somewhere. It felt wrong to picture a neck, but, man, cut him some slack. He had a lot of different visuals to draw on for sex, but up to now, it had always involved people with necks.
He took a gamble and expressed the thought, hand creeping sideways to swirl his own spit around: “I really wish I could suck a mark onto you. Leave you some proof.”
“Is the license plate with your name not enough?”
“Ooh, that's a damn good point. I guess everybody already knows you're mine.” Michael poured sex into his voice, as much as he could. Low and gravelly. It wasn’t hard, given his throat seemed caught halfway to a moan.
“Legally speaking, of course you are. And my programming is tied to you.”
“I mean mine like this. Where I get to feel up your scanner, and grind against your headlights.”
“You haven't ground against my headli-”
“Oh, that's what I was forgetting!”
Michael bumped a hand against his forehead, like he couldn’t believe his oversight. Sure, he was winging this whole thing, but it sounded like a good idea as he said it. He jumped up and found a new grip, left hand on Kitt’s hood and right wrapped around the arm of his left mirror.
“Michael!” The cry sounded like it was trying to be scandalized, and failing. Especially since Kitt flipped his headlights open willingly.
“Sorry, Kitt. But you've got me real worked up. I know how you hate mess, so I'll keep my jeans on.” The shallow, circular motions he started were more pressure than Michael's dick had gotten this whole time, and he couldn't help a sigh of relief. Or maybe more of a groan.
“... I never said that.”
“What, you want my jeans off?”
“If you're offering, that is.”
“Kitt, you're full of surprises. Every time I think I know you, you turn out to be more and more of a slut. And I mean that as a compliment.”
Pants and boots and underwear dumped on the garage floor, that's fine. They've seen worse.
Kitt's body leaned up to meet Michael’s bare dick, pressing against it messily. Michael chased the pleasure of it for a minute or more, grinding as promised, precome smeared on Kitt's headlight among the hottest sensations he could remember. But he'd had plenty of hot sensations — this was Kitt’s first time.
“This doing anything for you, pal?”
“Yes Michael, how could it not. Look at you.”
“Heh, aw shucks.”
No, they were getting distracted from the point: Kitt's tension. No way was Michael going to come first.
“Wait,” he said, stepping back, though he kept a possessive hand on his car’s hood. “I want this to be about you, Kitt. I want to, to pin you down and make you come, however that translates. I want to help you let go, right now.”
“Eager, are we?” Smug again.
“Hey, you are too, Kitt. Need I remind you how this all started? How long had you been, uh, working yourself?”
“Not too long. But I understand the haste.”
“I bet you do. Tell me, how were you gonna make yourself come, without me? I assume there's some physical aspect.”
Kitt rolled back a few inches with his wheels, then back forward. Like pacing.
“There is, yes.”
“Well? What can I do for you?”
“I don’t think you can help with this. It's too dangerous.”
“Come on, Kitt, you can't hurt me. It's in your code.”
“But if I lose control-”
“You won't. You're good, remember?”
“Michael…” Kitt was tender all at once, above the layers of hesitation, of lust. “I want to be, at least.”
“You are. And you deserve whatever it is you want.”
Kitt sat for a moment, microprocessors probably on fire with calculations. But Michael knew he’d come around and listen eventually. He always did.
“... It's my undercarriage," he confessed. "I like to, well. To lower my suspension and adjust my tire angles so it drags on the ground. I drive back and forth until the friction gets to be overwhelming.”
Oh.
Michael took a deep breath. “I never knew I'd think this, but Kitt, that's hot.”
“Thank you, Michael.”
“So where do I fit in?”
“Stimulating my scanner is out of the question, since it would move in and out of your range. So, you could sit in the cabin and speak to me.”
“While that sounds incredible, I'm sensing an ‘or’ coming up.”
“Or, you could be underneath me.”
Absurdly, Michael's hands went cold from the force of his blood rushing south.
“Kitt.”
“I know, I know, it's too risky-”
“I want that so bad.”
Kitt seemed too stunned to reply. Instead, after a few moments, he quietly stretched his suspension up as far as he could. Michael dropped down and scooted underneath him, bare ass on the cold concrete barely registering. Thoughts roaring about this incredible answer. About what they were about to do.
Kitt's low-rider system, his advanced hydraulics, of course his tire angling was flexible enough to get that low, to grind all the way downward. Picturing it, maybe it was normally just the back edge of his chassis, tipped down against the concrete, or the- the asphalt, the dirt- where had Kitt been doing this? How much did it take him to tip over the edge? Maybe he kept on scraping himself on the ground to the point of near-damage to his flawless frame.
With a soft “speak up if I hurt you,” Kitt slowly lowered his body onto Michael’s.
The weight of him just barely settled on Michael's chest, light but totally overwhelming. So often Kitt felt like mostly a voice, an enclosure, a way to get places, but he was also a massive hunk of metal. He was a machine, dozens of times Michael’s weight. That thought made his head spin like they were pulling a U-turn.
Up close like this, he was surrounded by the scent of an exerting Kitt. Not gasoline — gasoline is for ordinary cars — but oil, and hot metal, and something stinging he couldn't identify. Maybe related to his fuel, or exhaust? Kitt was supposedly clean energy, but that didn't stop him from giving off some kind of byproduct. Whatever his emissions were made of, they smelled addictive.
“I'm ready when you are,” Michael said, aiming at sultry.
Kitt started his rhythmic driving.
It was just rubbing up against him back and forth, back and forth, slower than he expected. The weight was just enough for him to feel it in his ribs, for the lowest pieces of Kitt to catch on his nipples and flick them up and down.
He pressed his pelvis up and it was so strange but so right.
“Michael,” Kitt half-growled, half-mewled.
“I'm right here, I've got you.”
“Michael, you're really here. All mine.”
“All yours,” Michael carried on easily. “Kitt, I'm yours, you feel so good on top of me.”
“I'm so close already.”
“Good, just keep going, please, Kitt.”
The metal surrounded him, the downstrokes letting his head pop out into the open air but eyes staying helplessly closed.
“You asked how I did this on my own,” Kitt was back to dangerously low and slow, hazy with pleasure yet intent on saying his piece. “But I never did it fully on my own. I never climaxed until the night I put on a video of you.”
“Kitt!”
“Just of you driving me, of us talking. You, you are sex to me, Michael. This is, ahhhh, I can't describe…”
“I think I know how you feel, baby,” Michael breathed, truthfully this time, barely audible over the engine right above him. “It's so much, Kitt, you're everything. Keep going,” he pleaded.
Kitt was past words. He only sped up a little, groaned when Michael started using his hands to stroke his undercarriage. His motions grinding down were so fluid, so needy; in a way, it felt exactly like any other kind of making love.
Michael couldn't do anything more except moan “you're so… good…” and Kitt let out an answering cry, abruptly shuddering all over before coming to a stop.
Unfortunately, his pride at that barely had a chance to sink in before his ribs started yelling.
“Kitt! You're drooping!” His voice sounded strained, both from arousal and sudden lack of air.
“Oh, god!” Kitt, horrified, jumped his suspension all the way up — so much so that he pretty much Turbo Boosted. Michael watched, frozen, as Kitt twisted his axles, sailing several yards forward but somehow landing only on the edge of his right wheels, tipping dramatically onto his side.
Michael couldn't help his adrenaline-filled laughter.
“It's not very nice to laugh, I'm in a sensitive state,” Kitt complained with no real heart, stuck sideways in his afterglow.
“Sorry, hah, I was just surprised!”
Michael caught his breath. Returned to Kitt, leaning and fretting over his entirely undamaged side. Then, they made the best of the situation.
He gripped Kitt’s exposed undercarriage, listened to his car purr at him as he rutted against the special-coated metal, coming on it to thoughts of personalized license plates.