Robot Boyfriend: Heathcliff (complete)

The Children of the Night Carnival is like a small world all its own. There are places in it you’ve yet to see in your time working there. It’s grown so much from the time you were little. You spent the first five years of your life with Mr. Faire and all his children; your mom had been kicked out of her home for getting pregnant as a teen, and Mr. Faire took her in with open arms. Once your mom married your other mom, they decided to settle and left the carnival to raise you.

Now, you’ve come back and are working as an aerialist with Avo and his troupe. Avo is taking a break while his wife is pregnant and soon to give birth. You’ve filled in for him, happy to be back at the site of your childhood while also doing what you love. Your mom was an aerialist back in the day and taught you everything she knew, much to your mother’s chagrin. 

One day, you are sorting through the silks used in the aerial acts, trying to find the right color for the performance you’re planning. There are tons of reds, blues, greens, pinks, and purples, but there isn’t the sunshine yellow that you need. 

“Ruby,” you call down Mr. Faire’s partner, who has become a good friend to you. “I need to know who takes care of props and materials now. Is that still Muna?”

“What is it you’re needing?” Ruby asks. “Muna mostly takes care of costumes and design these days.”

“I need yellow silks for the act I’m planning with the Changelings,” you huff. “You have every color of the rainbow on hand except for yellow.”

“The big silks?” Ruby asks and points to the ceiling of the tent. 

You nod. “Yeah. Who do I talk to to order those?”

Ruby thinks for a moment. “I would talk to Heathcliff first, he’s in charge of the props department. Maybe he knows where there are some more, and if not, he’ll know how to go about ordering some.”

You’ve heard the name before, but mostly it was whispered backstage. Several people in the carnival have huffed and puffed about how hard Heathcliff is to deal with. 

“Anyone else?” You ask.

Ruby shakes her head. “That’s the best place to start, I’m afraid.”

You sigh and slouch. “Then tell me he isn’t as bad as everyone makes him out to be,” you grumble. “Tell me it’s just them and not him.”

“He’s protective,” Ruby chuckles. “I’m told the carnival used to waste a lot of funds on sets before he came around and started organizing things. I would go talk to him.”

You grunt and bow your head. “Okay, fine.”

You go off to the back of the carnival, where the storage house is. Almost all sets and props are stored here when not in use. It’s a pretty big building, almost as big as the center tent. It’s quiet around it too; usually kids are playing all around the carnival, but not here. It feels even creepier than Scarebrook did. You go to the door and open it, stepping inside. It’s dim inside. Barely any lights are on, and the ones that are flicker like horror movie props.

“Hello?” you call out. You voice gets lost in the labyrinth of sets, boxes, and supplies. You look around, listening for any sound of reply. “Hello?” you call out again. You stand there in the shadows, wondering where to even begin looking for the stored silks.

“Who goes there?” A booming voice shouts over an intercom system.

You nearly leap out of your skin and press yourself against the nearest wall. You cuss under your breath as your heart palpitates wildly.

“You!” The intercom crackles and hisses. “Yes, you! Over there! What do you want?”

You look up to see a room near the ceiling of the storage house. It has glass windows and a bright light shining inside, so you can see the silhouette of what you assume is Heathcliff. 

You stand up and frown up towards the box. “I’m looking for silks,” you tell the silhouette. “You know, for the aerial acts?”

“There are silks stored in the center tent,” he replies simply. “Good day.”

“No!” you huff. “I mean, there are some, but not the kind I need.”

The intercom squeaks as it turns back on. “What do you mean?” He sounds none too happy you’re still there.

“Yellow,” you blurt out. Your heart is still going fast, and your nerves are so frayed from your earlier scare that you can barely form a coherent sentence. “I need yellow silks for the performance I am planning.” You gulp down a breath to steady yourself. “Are there any yellow silks here in storage?”

A sigh comes over the loudspeaker. “I suppose there might be. Let me check.” There is a thud, and Heathcliff starts humming. Over the intercom you hear pages shuffling, books closing, and more pages being rifled through. 

“Aisle J, shelf C, box 32,” Heathcliff barks.

You look around sheepishly. “Excuse me?”

“Aisle J.” A light turns on over a row of shelves. “Shelf C.” Another light shines down brighter over a tiny section. “And box 32.” You expect to see another light but nothing happens.

“They might be orange, but the extra silks are there,” Heathcliff scoffs. “Get what you want and go.”

You’re not quite sure what to think, so your eyes dart around for a moment. “Okay?” You look away from the box and head down Aisle J. The light dims behind you as you walk down it. You then come to the spotlight hovering over shelf C. 

“Thirty-two,” you mumble. “Thirty-two.” You climb up on a ladder by the shelf and start rummaging. You pull out a couple of boxes and finally find one labeled thirty-two. Then, as you grab it, all the lights in the warehouse turn off at once.

You let out a horrible shriek and cling to the ladder. You breathe heavily and keep your eyes shut tight. You’ve never done well in the dark, and you’ve never dealt with a darkness like this. “I’m still in here!” you cry out. “I’m still here!” The hot sting of tears rises in your eyes and you start to shake. “I’m here,” you sniffle. “I’m here.”

“Girl,” a voice calls out below. “Girl! There was a power outage, no need to get so upset.” 

You can’t open your eyes. You’re far too scared.

Heathcliff sighs and climbs up the ladder. “Girl, come on,” he coaxes. “I’ve got a light here, I’ll get you out.”

You slowly open your eyes, spotting the flashlight in his hand. 

“You okay?” He asks in a perplexed voice.

“I’m afraid of the dark,” you admit shakily. “I freeze up and I can’t-” You swallow down a sob and Heathcliff pats the top of your head.

“Cowering on a ladder won’t help anyone. As soon as you get down and I can check the fuse box and see what caused this. Until then you’re going to have to stick close to me! Understood?” His tone is sharp and a little harsh.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Excuse me? I didn’t hear that,” Heathcliff huffs.

“Yes!” you snap. “I understand!”

“Good.” Heathcliff climbs down the ladder and shines the light so you can see where you’re going. Once you descend the ladder, Heathfliff grabs your hand and shines the flashlight ahead. 

“Stick close,” he insists. “It’s a maze in here, and even with the lights on you’d get lost. I’m your only hope, so don’t let go.”

You squeeze his hand, shocked to discover how hard it feels. 

“Don’t looked so scared. It’s the exact same place you were before. Just… dark.” He laughs and starts walking.

“Can you see me?” Your voice cracks.

“Sure,” he scoffs. “Not as clear as with the lights on, but you know.”

You really don’t know. You have no idea who Heathcliff is aside from the grumpy hardhead who takes care of the props. 

“You’re still shaking,” he says after a while. You’ve been winding through what feels like a maze. For all you know there is going to be a minotaur waiting at the end. “Not still scared, are you?” Heathcliff chuckles.

You frown through the shadows towards him. “Don’t make fun of me!”

His hand squeezes yours a little tighter. “Trying to make light. Stop-” he says abruptly. “We’re here.” He shines the flashlight onto the fuse box. “Here. Hold this, will you?”

You take the flashlight from him and keep it held there while he works. His hands are covered by gloves, but what you can see of his arms in the space between the gloves and the sleeves has a metallic sheen.

“There!” Heathcliff chuckles triumphantly, and the lights flicker and sputter back on. Overhead, one light sparks, then shatters.

“Get down!” Heathcliff swoops in and protectively huddles over you, and the glass rains down on top of him.

“Are you ok?” you gasp.

Heathcliff scoffs. “Those lights are so fucking aggrivating to get changed. Maybe I can get one of the flying people here to fix it next time.” He stands erect and takes off his jacket, dusting the shards of glass from it.

As you finally see him in the light, you realize why his hand was so hard. Heathcliff stands very tall and his skin that is exposed isn’t skin at all, but shimmering metal. The back of his head is open, and tons of thick cables cascade from it. Some curl down around his neck, others cascade down his back, and still more fall loose and curl around his face and shoulders. His face is smooth, with slits for eyes, and a mouth that forms a sort of ‘W’ shape. The way he looks, Heathcliff almost has a lion-like appearance. 

“You going to stare all day?” he snaps. He pinches the tip of your nose and you reel back, cupping your hand over your face. “I literally save your skin from a glass shower and you just gawk?” He tosses his jacket over his shoulder. “Rude.”

You huff and glare back at him. “Thank you.”

“You don’t sound sincere. I don’t believe you.” He then looks you over and huffs. “You didn’t get box thirty-two? I thought you had grabbed box thirty-two!”

“The power went out! How was I supposed to grab it?” you snap back at him.

Heathcliff sighs. “Oh well, at least you’re lovely to look at. I guess something has to make up for what you lack.”

You gawk at him, not sure how to respond.

“Oh come on,” he playfully shoves your arm. “It was a joke.” He waves his hand. “Come along, lets see if those silks are what you need.” He walks ahead of you, and you still can’t help but stare after him.

Heathcliff takes down the box and opens it for you. Inside it are more red silks. 

“Bullshit,” Heathcliff snarls. “I had it labeled in my ledger. My ledger is never wrong!” He slams the box shut. “I guess we’ll have to order these yellow silks. What are they for again?”

You step aside as he comes off the ladder. “The aerial act with the Changelings. I’m Avo’s replacement and-”

“Oh, that,” Heathcliff hums. “I know what to get, then. Yellow, was it?”

“Bright yellow,” you reply. “I need at least five for-”

“Five?” Heathcliff balks. “Do you know how much those things cost?”

You nod. “Mr. Faire said-”

“He would have us in the red if he got his way.” Heathcliff grumbles. “But fine, fine!” He huffs. “I’ll see what I can do to get you your five exorbitant silks.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. “I really appreciate it.”

Heathcliff looks you over and tilts his head to the side. “Do you perform tonight?” He asks. “Perhaps I’ll get to see what all this aggravation is for.”

Your cheeks burn, but you’re not sure why. “We have dress rehearsal tonight, but anyone is welcome to attend.”

Heathcliff gives you a decisive nod. “Then I expect to be wowed. The more you impress me, the more certain I am to get you your silks.”

“But it’s just a dress rehearsal,” you argue as you follow him to the stairs that go up to his box. 

“Anyone worth their salt in this carnival understands that importance of a dress rehearsal. Color me excited, tiny dancer. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way here.” He climbs up the stairs.

“Okay,” you grumble. You quickly make your escape, leaving the storage shed and heading back to somewhere you’re more comfortable. 

That evening, you’re getting ready for the rehearsal. You’ve got the Changelings ready and a small crowd has gathered to watch. You go over notes and have a quick final group talk before you get into your places. As you take your spot, you see Heathcliff standing towards the back, watching. He’s leaned over a seat, and his dreadlock-like cables cascade down his chest. Your cheeks burn as you start the show.

The music begins, and you tumble down from the ceiling in silk. There are gasps and applause from the audience. For some reason, you glance towards Heathcliff, hoping for a reaction from him. You keep the show going, often glancing Heathcliff’s way throughout the entire act. Once it’s done, you head backstage to cool down. Everyone is excited and going off to get to bed early, but you like to linger backstage. 

“Not too bad,” Heathcliff says as he steps out from around the curtain. “I can see why some enjoy such a spectacle.”

You take the water bottle from your lips. “I take it you didn’t like it?” you scoff.

“You’re afraid of the dark,” he says, and lays his hand on his chest. “I’m afraid of heights.”

You sit up a bit more as he approaches. “Really?”

He nods and sits down near you on the sand bags. “I’ve never seen the aerialist act until tonight. It always makes me so nervous.” He glances out over the stage and the silks hanging from the ceiling. “How do you stand it?”

“Your office is up near the ceiling. That doesn’t freak you out?” Turning to face him, you properly realize how big he is. When he’s sitting down, the knees of his long legs come up close to his chest and his shoulders hunch forward, showing how large his chest is.

“That’s why I keep the lights dim. That way I can’t see down,” he chuckles.

You take another drink of water. “So what made you come tonight if you’re so scared of heights?”

Heathcliff tilts his head to the side. “I figured looking at something pretty would make me less nervous. Turns out, it made me even more nervous.”

You choke on your water and nearly spew it out of your mouth. “What?” you cough.

Heathcliff chuckles and stands up. He extends his hand to you. “Let me take you out to dinner. I want to discuss your silks with you.”

As the days go by you and Heathcliff find excuses to meet with one another. He’ll call you to the storage shed to discuss your order with you, and tell you how the shipment is progressing. You’ll go to him looking for props that you may or may not ever use, just to be able to wander the aisles with him. He’s kind of a jerk, but he makes up for it with a hidden sweetness that you like digging to find.

One afternoon, you make your way to the storage shed to check on the silk order. The show you need them for is fast approaching and you’re eager to get them installed. You walk into the shed and look around. “Heathcliff?” you call out. “Hello?” There’s no answer, which is a shock because he’s usually so quick to answer.

“Heathcliff?” You call up the stairs to his office and still nothing. You start climbing the stairs, going up and up. You open the door and step inside. Once you do, you see Heathcliff is turned away from his desk and the back of his chair is facing you. 

“Don’t you knock?” he yells. 

You flinch. “Sorry, I was looking for you.” You tilt your head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t come any closer!” he yelps.

You peer over the back of his chair and see his hand covering his lap. His pants are down and around his ankles on the ground, and he won’t move from his spot.

“What are you doing?” You smirk knowingly.

“Get out of here!” Heathcliff snarls. “I mean it!”

You lower your arm, touching his chest and then moving his hand out of the way. Jutting from his lap is a slick and glossy shaft that’s pitch black. “What’s this?”

Heathcliff grasps your wrist. “This isn’t funny, tiny dancer!” He grunts as you grab hold of him. “Don’t-” a long, pleasured moan escapes his throat.

You stroke him, feeling a radiant heat pulse from him. A glossy liquid oozes from the tip and dribbles down your fingers. “Were you jerking off?” you moan into his ear. 

“Seriously, stop-” his argument is weak and his hand around your wrist is keeping you in place.

You press a kiss to his cheek and jaw. “You’re worse than I thought,” he purrs. 

“What were you thinking about to make you so hard?” Your fist pumps over him, and you’re growing more and more excited. 

Heathcliff’s jaw opens, and from inside a black tongue hangs out. “Don’t taunt me,” he groans.

“I think you like it,” you pant. “I think you knew I’d be coming. You wanted me to catch you.”

“No,” he hiccups. “No, I-I-” He shivers and throws his head back.

You kiss him and move around. His black tongue slithers into your mouth and you suck on it. He tastes faintly like cotton candy. You stand before him now, to sit in his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and grind yourself against him. The heat that radiates from him goes through your leggings and brushes against your own desire.

“Wait-” Heathcliff’s breath rattles. His hands grip your hips.

“I’ve been wanting to find a way to make you quiet,” you moan. “Now I think I know.” You kiss him again and giggle. “Were you thinking about me?”

“So what if I was?” he sputters. He rolls his hips, rutting his cock against your leggings. “I can think about you whenever I want.”

“But you think about me,” you grin triumphantly. 

Heathcliff growls. “You’re wet,” he pants. “Your leggings are damp.” He leans in close to you and tangles his fingers in your hair with one hand while the other gropes your rear. “You’re just as excited as I am.”

You lick his neck and he shudders. “How many times have you jerked off to me? Huh?” You continue to tease. “What did you make me do in these fantasies? Did you expect me to be all demure and docile while you pleasured yourself?”

Heathcliff’s fingers pull at your hair. “Don’t torment me,” he whines. 

You moan softly as your leggings begin to squish. They’re soaked through with your own need as well as his. “Help me get these things off, will ya?” you groan. “They’re starting to get in the way.”

Heathcliff snarls. “Yeah, I’ll help.” He reaches around with both hands and grips, ripping your leggings wide open with a single jerk.

“Hey!” you whine. “I liked these!” Heathcliff’s cock slips directly against your slit then. You bite your lip and rub against him. “You’re awful.”

“Says the girl not wearing panties,” Heathcliff moans. 

You chuckle and still your hips. “You like it. Don’t try to distract me from the fact that you were jerking off before I got here. You were already thinking about me without panties.” You move back just a bit so his cock is in front of you. “Go on,” you moan. “Ask me for anything. Maybe you’ll get it.”

Heathcliff’s breath rattles again and his hands tremble. “What are you gassing on about?” he wheezes.

“Ask for anything,” you purr. “Ask me to make your fantasy reality. Ask if you can enter me. Ask me if you can cum.” You bite your lip as you smirk. “You just gotta ask for permission.”

Heathcliff grunts and he lays his head back against the chair. “You’re so fucking mean!” he snarls. 

You kiss his neck and lick up to his jaw. “I didn’t know robots could be so sensitive.”

Heathcliff mutters something under his breath.

“Hmm?” You giggle. “What was that? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“Will you let me inside?” he grumbles.

You hold back your excitement. “Depends,” you murmur. “Where do you want to be inside? The bathroom? The mess hall? Backstage of the center tent?”

“You know where!” Heathcliff roars. 

“Then say it.” You press your finger over his mouth. “Tell me exactly what you want or I’m not going to understand the question.”

“Your slit,” he snarls. “I want inside you! I want to fuck!”

You giggle. “That’s a good boy,” you tease. You lift up just enough and ease yourself down upon him. You moan out loud as you take him slowly.

Heathcliff’s back arches and his hands dig into your hips. “Oh fuck-” His voice crackles.

“Mmm, big boy too,” you sit in his lap again and grab hold of the back of the chair. “Now what?”

“Don’t ask me!” He whines.

You slowly move and squeeze around him with your inner walls. He feels so thick and hard inside. The bumps along his shaft rub you in ways that make you grow more excited.

“Can I turn on now?” he snarls.

“Turn on?” you ask curiously. “What do you mean by-” you voice and your entire train of thought desert you as his cock starts to vibrate and move inside you. It twists and rotates inside you, pulsing all the while. You let out a wild cry and throw your head back.

Your thighs are already shaking and you press yourself against him. You rut your hips, feeling him deeper and more intensely. 

“Not fair!” you moan. You sit back up and look down, watching the base of his cock swirl as he moves inside you. Your ripped leggings hug around your thighs, creating quite the lurid sight. His lap is smeared and glistening with your combined wetness. 

“Sort of wished we filmed this,” you moan. “Oh fuck-” You bow your head onto his shoulder. Heathcliff’s hands dig into your ass, kneading and groping you.

“Can I cum?” he moans. “Oh, god - please let me cum.”

You kiss him and wrap your hands around his neck. “I’m close too-” you mewl. You bounce in his lap, finding the sweet spot inside where his cock’s vibrations send you over the edge. You squeal as electric currents shoot from the tips of your hair and down through your toes. The arches of your feet ache, and you slam yourself against him as the urge overtakes you. 

Heathcliff rattles and pants and inside you his heat pulses deeper and deeper, flowing into you until the viscous goo dribbles down your thighs. He goes limp in the chair and you lay against him. The chair then topples over from too much weight, falling backwards and sending the two of you splaying across the floor.

You lay on top of him still, giggling while he cusses out loud. He picks you up and carries you over to the sofa at the back of his office. You lay down together, cuddling up as you relax.

“I didn’t know you could be so mean,” he huffs. 

“It was fun,” you tease. You kiss his cheek. “Were you really thinking about me?”

Heathcliff grumbles. “Ever since I saw you dance,” he scoffs. “I keep imagining you naked on the silks and-” He breaks off and grunts. “Okay, you get to shut up now! Now I get to be the mean one again.” You kiss him and he whimpers.

“Nah,” you smirk. “I know your weakness now. I’m not afraid of you.”

Heathcliff pouts and runs his fingers through your hair. “Don’t tell anyone, please? I like having the authority I do.”

You kiss him. “Don’t worry, this Heathcliff is for me and only me. I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

“So… this wasn’t an accident?” Heathcliff murmurs.

“I like you too,” you confess. “Why else do you think I willingly come here?”

Heathcliff sighs and lays your head back on his chest. “I like you. I almost love you.”

You close your eyes and smile. “I almost love you too.”