ENJOY THE UNKNOWN

Titular Song

I slid my hands under her blouse. She reflexively flinched away from the coldness of my steel nails. Ah, right. Removing my hands as suddenly as if I had touched a hot stove, I apologised, feeling the chill of embarrassment surge through me. She shook her head reassuringly. Taking my hand, she placed it back onto her waist.

Rose ran her thumb over my knuckles and relaxed into the touch. "It's alright, Jack. You won't hurt me." I smiled and lifted her clothing, exposing her midriff. My head lowered to press my lips to her bare skin. The cool metal brushed against her, causing her to chuckle and squirm from the tickling sensation. I kissed her a few times before grazing my bared lower teeth across her flesh, biting softly.

"I missed you," I confessed, without moving my mouth. The sound rumbled through speakers inplanted within my mandible. Which was always the case; I had barely functional vocal chords. Instinctive lip-syncing made that pretty inconspicuous.

She laughed. "I forgot you can do that. I missed you too — we always do." Her breath hitched as my metal digits pressed against her skin, along the pearlescent stretch marks that webbed across her abdomen. I felt the phantom sensation of my throat tightening as if to cry, though I produced no tears.

---

Rose and I were used to spending time apart. It didn’t make it any easier. I was sent halfway across the world for missions that could be over a period anywhere from a week to six months — sometimes we didn’t even know that. She spent her time between her work as a counsellor (she does both military and civilian work now, whichever is the steadiest at the time) and with our little boy, John.

---

I propped myself up to look her in the eyes again. After hearing the bed creak a little too perilously under my hand, I reconsidered this arrangement. "Shit, I forget how dense this thing is. I'm like a tank," I groaned. So much for the intimate moment.

"Hold on..." I heaved myself up and I flipped over onto my back, reversing our positions. I made sure to support Rose's body against me all the way. She yelped and giggled from the swift change in position, now finding herself sitting atop me with her knees either side of my waist.

That reassured her somewhat. She gave a quiet scoff in reply before she started to brush her fingertips gently against the carbon steel plates that protected my chest, the twisting strands of my synthetic muscles, and the metal supports. Familiarising herself with something she had never seen before.

---

It was brand new to her, mostly. I had always been fitted with my civilian body (a near-perfect recreation of a human body, save for extra upkeep and makeup) before I took any commercial flights back to New Zealand. It was far too much bother otherwise – not with security, surprisingly, my military clearance took care of that. Frankly, I was just frightening to the public.

Or, perhaps worse, absolutely fascinating. These reactions weren't exactly something you wanted to deal with when you're only trying to fly home. It took so much effort by a team to refit my combat body that Rose never got to see it in person. She knew what I looked like, of course, we video-called each other when we could, but otherwise?

---

---

A few weeks ago, I figured the public knowledge of cyborgs had reached a decent level: it was pretty commonplace to see at least a few of us out there now, mechanical forms visible instead of concealed under synthetic skin or clothing.

This custom-made skin cost a fortune per square inch due to the high-level craftsmanship required to essentially build a human being from scratch. Although it began to come down in price as the number of cyborgs in society increased, it was certainly a difficult thing to cover financially without the 'benefits' offered by military contracts. That's what kept people on the battlefield.

It was used for two reasons: our own comfort and that of civilians. Some cyborgs were made cyborgs against their will, just as I was, they missed their original bodies immensely and wished to 'pass' as human among others, retaining their old form via cybernetics that looked indistinguishable enough. Others simply wished to avoid the looks, questions, and discrimination that a clearly inhuman form attracted in public.

---

She leant forward from her position straddling my hips to plant a kiss on my collarbone, or whatever the equivalent was.

Rose swallowed in anticipation. Taking my clawed hand in hers, she lifted it up to her lips to kiss each joint softly, followed by trailing more up my forearm, thoroughly appreciating each individual texture of my exoskeleton. With a squeeze of my hand, she let go and lowered her head once more. This time electing to drag her teeth and tongue over the various bumps and grooves of my neck.

I had tactile sensation throughout this body, but it was dulled compared to a more human-like form when it came to subtle touches like this. I could feel the varying pressures and tingling that followed her exploration, though, coupled with arousal from the intimate scenario. An unsteady exhale escaped me. "Oh, Rose..."

Humming quietly in acknowledgement, she moved to brush her lips across my metal jaw. Then down once more to my throat, where she began to lick and suck firmly as if attempting to create a hickey. I heard the faint sound of my internal cooling system kicking in.

She cupped my exposed jaw, running her thumb across the steel skeleton that composed it. Her thumb ventured higher, tracing the lines where my flesh yielded to machinery. She brought another hand to my face and pressed gently between my real and synthetic teeth, coaxing me to open my mouth. I did, gingerly, and she ran the tip of her finger over my lower teeth.

It was a strange experience. A little like being at the world's best dentist appointment, but oddly romantic. She looked intensely focused as she advanced, now dancing her fingers across the grooves and hinges in my lower jaw. She opened my mouth a little wider and touched my tongue.

It wasn't real anymore, a fabrication of a tongue manufactured in a similar way to the parts of my other body. I could still taste somewhat – I could certainly taste the sharp flavour of hand sanitiser soaked into her skin – but an interesting difference was that I produced considerably less saliva than a normal human being. Certainly helped in this scenario, so I wouldn't be drooling all over her fingers.

The situation was odd, undeniably, but it made me feel much closer to her. I felt safe with her, and I knew she felt safe with me. I was showing vulnerability and trust, and she the same: I trusted her enough to lay still and bare myself for this exploration, while she trusted me not to panic or bite down on her fingers like a bear trap. An image of the plover and the crocodile crossed my mind.

---

I received the go-ahead to catch a flight home in my combat body, and after an uneventful trip, I greeted Rose that way. I remember how she, to my delight, played out a swoon in the doorway, how she wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me close, greeting me with an almost-whispered, "Hello, handsome."

---

My eyes glanced up at her face. I observed her dark hair falling over her eyes: recently made untidy. A style that was endearing, the slight imperfection that makes something more real. She was smiling, almost imperceptibly. I thought back to when Rose and I met twelve years ago — we were different people back then. Now, she looked incredibly beautiful in her own way this time.

Her fingers left my jaws. She gave a look of satisfaction, prompting me to close my mouth again. She moved to meet my eyes momentarily before her gaze dropped to my lips.

She moved her face closer. I noted the sensation of her breath against me and felt the warm condensation on my skin.

Then, she pressed her lips against mine, somewhat hesitantly. We paused for a moment, eyes closed, before she moved her hand from my jaw to the back of my head to thread into my greyed hair. I'd never kissed someone like this before. I'd always done it with two lips, all my skin – synthetic or not – and all of my sensory nerves connected. I wasn't sure what it was like on her side, but feeling her lips pressed against such opposite materials, her tongue pressed up against my teeth and entering my mouth. Her teeth knocking against my lower set with a click before she settled on latching tenderly onto my upper lip...

It was perfect, intoxicating. Alas, we separated, foreheads touching and breath hurried through giddy chuckles.

---

My kit bag had barely hit the ground before her hands were on me. I returned the favour, squeezing her against my body in an embrace. I burrowed my nose into her neck. Smelt like home. She always did. I swayed against her gently; I closed my eyes.

---

When I became a cyborg, my blood was replaced with a specialised substance that was white in colour. I could still blush where my real (above my mandible) or false skin was; since the blood below the surface wasn't red, instead of pink, I went a deathly white.

She turned to look at the clock at our bedside. It was just reaching midday. John wouldn't need picking up from his after-school club until early evening, and I needed all the sleep I could get before he realised I was home and jumped all over me. "Sure. You get some rest... I'll set an alarm." Rose moved closer to my side, nestling her head against my clavicle, letting me wrap an arm around her shoulder. I pulled the top blanket off the bottom half of the bed and threw it over us.

Napping like this didn't bother me, but I worried about Rose. Like this, I wasn't exactly the most cuddly. I imagined the experience would be like trying to snuggle up with your car's combustion engine. I needed to call in to order a prosthetic body installation for tomorrow. For now...