With a heavy sigh, Keaton swiped his thumb up the screen of the tablet a few more times, seeing a feed full of pictures of happy, smiling couples, of people he used to know, the carefully curated bits of life displayed online for the world to see.
The last one he could stand was a picture of many people, squeezing together, drinks in hand, grinning with the swirling lights of a bar stage behind them. In the middle was Todd, his muscled arm slung around the shoulders of an equally muscled, tattooed man.
A small flame of jealousy flared deep in his stomach, but he closed the app and tossed the tablet onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arm.
You chose this, remember? Keaton told himself, sighing again. This is your job.
He had been sent up to the NeoSpire, a huge research facility located on the planted Nix. Keaton was there to help negotiate with the native population, to make plans for terraforming, and to facilitate the arrivals of the first few waves of human colonists in the next five years.
While it was his job and an amazing one at that, he couldn't deny he was lonely.
Keaton, and the other ambassadors living in the NeoSpire, wanted for nothing. They had unlimited access to any amenity they could think of: gym, pool, cinema, fully stocked kitchen with ready-to-eat meals, computer lab, and...
Keaton shuttered, thinking of what had become his favorite amenity. The "Relaxation Suite." A polite word for a jack off room.
Just thinking about it, combined with the memories of his not-quite-boyfriend Todd, who had clearly moved on to a new piece of ass, made Keaton's cock twitch under his jumpsuit.
He glanced up at the large digital clock projected on the tan wall of his chambers. It was late, but not too late.
Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Keaton stood, slipped on his boots, and headed out into the hall.
Thankfully, he didn't cross paths with anyone on his way down into what was essentially the basement of the tall tower.
At the door, he glanced over his shoulder, made sure he was alone, then pressed his thumb on the biometric scanner beside one of the polished steel doors. A green light blinked overhead and the door opened with a soft whoosh.
Stepping inside, Keaton waited for the door to slide shut and click, indicating it was locked. He could picture the red letters on the scanner outside reading "OCCUPIED," and hoped nobody came looking for him.
Moving silently through the room, Keaton seated himself in a comfortable black leather chair and tapped on the screen in front of him. It lit up and a surprisingly human female voice said, "Good evening, Keaton."
"Hello, Proxima," he muttered to the AI, which was showing a menu on the screen.
"What would you like to see today?"
"Surprise me," he said, always curious to see what the system would cue up for him. It was always learning, his preferences becoming more and more specific the more often he visited the Relaxation Suite.
"Tell me if you would like something different," Proxima said as a video filled the screen.
"Will do," Keaton said, hitting PLAY on the console to his right.
A video filled the screen. It was a rather standard porn video, man on man, in a POV style. The smooth, firm ass of the bottom filled Keaton's field of view, his winking hole smooth and tan.
"Oh, yeah," a man's voice said, coming from the speakers mounted in the chair on either side of Keaton's head. His voice was raspy and deep, a tingle dancing over Keaton's cock.
"Please, put your fingers in me," the bottom begged, reaching back to spread himself wider.
Keaton watched, breath hitching, as a large hand appeared, thick, tattooed fingers on what had to be a huge bear of a man stroking over the bottom's asshole. His pointer and middle finger stroked the puckered skin in a circle, over and over, making the bottom moan. He pushed his ass back against the finger, trying to get the digits inside him.
Keaton's cock twitched and his hips shifted against the padded seat of his chair and he reached up, unzipping his jumpsuit and shrugging out of it, his solid length bobbing up toward his stomach. He wasn't a fan of the jumpsuit, finding it constricting and too warm, prompting him to forgo boxers most of the time.
"Mmm," the big man hummed, switching to his thumb and pressing the tip of his finger inside the smaller man. "That's right. Take it."
Keaton was breathing harder, pumping his hips a bit as the man's fingers sank in and out, making the bottom moan.
"Are you ready, Keaton?" Proxima asked, and Keaton nodded.
From between his legs, a robotic arm rose up, the cylinder attachment right at hip level. The end of the black rubber tube had a hole, a small hole, but Keaton knew from experience that it would stretch around his erection.
