Rich Kid (The SPARK Files #3)

Chapter 11

Volt

Mayday! Mayday! Volt sent to Angel.

Angel sent back a staticky burst of amusement.

No, I’m serious. Wallace wants me to dance for him.

Angel sent back a gif of a naked man dancing sensuously, a top hat held strategically in front of his dick. I’m not seeing the problem here.

No, he asked me to *dance*.

Like you do in your room?

Yeah.

Volt, this might be a dumb question, but how did he find out that you dance in your room?

Uh, he gave me a present. This really amazing sculpture. Volt glanced across the room, snapped a picture, and sent it. He said it reminded him of me, and of dancing, and I just kind of told him, and then he wanted to see.

Angel cut him off. You know he’s a client, right?

Volt sent back a flat tone of annoyance. I know .

So clients don’t go to the third floor.

I know. Volt truly did. The rules were there for a reason. He’d never taken Bobby up to the third floor. Or Sadie. Or Kurt.

Still, he had to ask. But what if he wants to be more?

There was a long pause, almost a full second, before Angel answered. Volt, love, I don’t want you to get hurt again. You have a big heart, but clients aren’t boyfriends. If you want to date, you need to do that outside of Prism.

You’re right. Should I just tell him no, then? I feel like he’s different, Angel.

Volt could almost imagine Angel blowing out a breath. Not that Angel would if he were downstairs talking to a client—he could be having a whole different conversation right now, with a smile on his face. Just like Volt was with Wallace.

I can’t tell you what to do, Angel finally said. All I can say is to be careful. If you want him as a boyfriend, tell him soon and keep it separate from your work.

But what if that’s not what he wants?

Angel sent a gif of a puppy running back and forth between two bowls of dog food, too excited to eat at either one. This is why relationships are hard. Just be careful.

Great. Now Volt had his own anxiety and Angel’s as well.

And he’d promised Wallace a dance. Wallace who was still looking up at him with those bedroom eyes. Who had asked so sweetly.

“If you want to see me dance, I’ll need more space,” Volt told him, still stalling for time. He wanted to share this, but he kind of wished he’d had more time to prepare. Seductive dances were built into his metaphorical DNA, but this was… not that.

Wallace backed away from their embrace quickly, causing Volt to chuckle. “No, I meant this room isn’t big enough. There’s another room I use on the third floor.” It was his personal room, in fact. The equivalent of a bedroom, though he’d chosen to remove the bed when Magnolia gave it to him.

“Oh!” Wallace’s eyes got big and round. “Okay.”

“The third floor isn’t for guests,” Volt told him, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. He gentled his tone. “So please don’t tell anyone.” Now it sounded like a secret between them. It kind of was.

“Of course not, Daddy.” Wallace dropped his voice to a whisper. “I wouldn’t break your confidence like that.”

Volt nodded. He’d have to take Wallace’s word at this.

He led Wallace up the elevator and down the hallway, the opposite direction from Magnolia’s empty suite. Fortunately, with all the doors closed, the third-floor hallway was just as impersonal as the second.

When they reached Volt’s room, Wallace stepped hesitantly inside, then slowly turned around. Volt surveyed the room as well, wondering what Wallace would think.

There wasn’t much there. He had a bookshelf with a few trinkets on it, a chair under the window, and a closed door that led to his neatly organized closet. The room had started with more furniture, but he’d slowly removed it all to give him more space to dance. There were a few pictures on the walls, interspersed with blocks of noise-canceling padded squares.

“It’s not much,” Volt told him. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He hadn’t told Wallace that this was his personal room, just that he danced here.

“It’s perfect. I love it! Where did you get the paintings?”

“Oh, uh, the park a few blocks away has a market on Saturdays. There are a few artists that come every week and others that just show up occasionally.” None of the pictures were the same style. A country landscape in the fall, glowing golden in the evening light. Three kids skipping rope on a city street, their ebony skin glowing in delight. An abstract spray of colors that made him happy. A woman’s face in profile, looking thoughtful and wise, washed in purples and blues. He knew they’d all cost far less than the statue Wallace had bought for him. He wasn’t sure if the technique was good on any of them. He’d just liked them.

“They’re amazing. Would you send me the address? I’d love to buy something like these.” He looked around again, eyes lingering on the paintings. “You have a good eye.”

“Sure,” Volt told him, mentally pulling up the park on a map and sending the link to Wallace’s phone. “Already sent.”

“Oh, wow. I’m so excited! Maybe you can tell me where to find some of your favorite artists?”

Wallace’s grin was going to give him a short circuit. Did that mean he wanted to spend more time together? “I can do that. Um, would you like to sit?” Volt gestured at the single chair. It was facing the window, but he quickly turned it around.

Wallace made his way to the chair and snuggled in, watching Volt attentively.

Was he supposed to just start? How did this work? “So, I’ve never shown this to anyone. It might not be any good.” Well, Angel and Magnolia had poked a head in here or there while he was dancing, but they’d never stayed to watch. It wasn’t a secret, just… private.

“Pretend I’m not here, Daddy.” Wallace told him. “Just do your thing.”

Volt’s gears felt too tight and too loose at the same time. Wallace was making him melt. Even when he was unbalanced and awkward, Wallace still wanted to call him Daddy .

He looked up at the ceiling, where he’d rigged an electrical cord in an extendable coil. “I usually dance while I’m charging.” It gave him an extra burst of energy, and also a kind of excuse for taking the time for himself in his room. The ceiling cable let him dance without getting tangled up.

“Then do that,” Wallace told him, gently. “I… Listen, Volt. I’m bad with people. I don’t have any friends. I have no artistic skills whatsoever. I’m probably terrible at giving pep talks. God, I don’t even know why you would want to share something special like this with me.” He held up a finger when Volt was about to burst in and deny it all. “And I know what you’re going to say, but just listen. If you’re amazing, I’ll be impressed. And if you’re not very good, it’ll still be a thousand times better than anything I could do. And I want to see it anyway. Because it’s you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Um, did that help?”

Volt swept in and kissed those adorable lips. “It was perfect, baby.” It really was. “So, I guess I’m just gonna…” He waved vaguely at the cord on the ceiling.

Wallace nodded.

Volt reached up and pulled it down, the port on his shoulder opening without a second thought for him to plug it in.

Wallace made a face that he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Too weird for you?” He didn’t think that Wallace was some Humans First bigot who would protest spark rights or hurl slurs at sparks in the street. But there were still a lot of humans who were okay with androids until they saw them plug in an electric cable or pop off a piece of their skin to expose the circuits underneath.

“Nope,” Wallace told him. “This is what you do. Show me.”

Volt started the music he’d been working with for the past few weeks, letting the sound swell through the room. It was lush and full. Like dawn coming. It made him want to move.

He looked at Wallace, who was watching with anticipation. That was too much.

He turned around. It was easier that way. He could just pretend Wallace wasn’t here. Deny the hope that was bubbling through him and the anxiety that this could all come crashing down.

He stood and just breathed with the music. Letting it fill his body and seep into his programming.

He closed his eyes and started to move. A roll of his shoulders. A beat tapping through his wrist. Then something that started from his toes and moved up through him. He let the music take him, pouring through him like an ocean wave.

His feet lifted from the floor. His body spun. Rhythms swept through him, uniting his movements. He jumped. Kicked. Flipped and rolled. Pulled in short sequences that he’d borrowed from videos of ballet and jazz and tribal dances, moves that he emulated from acrobatics, breakdancing, and circus arts.

He’d never downloaded any mods for dancing or gymnastics. He could have bought some and become an expert in any style overnight, but this was all for him. So he watched videos on repeat, practiced, and let his body do what felt right.

Some of it, he knew, came back to his core programming. Salsa and flamenco, pole dancing and lap dances. Anything sensual and provocative.

But he made that part of the rising storm that was shaking through him. Mixing elegance with rough stomps, sultry with robotically stiff. This dance wasn’t for anyone’s enjoyment except his own.

Until he whirled again and saw Wallace watching him, mouth agape.

He almost stumbled, but caught himself.

That awestruck look gave him power, sent him through another series of tumbles and turns, transferring his weight from his feet to his hands as he spun, then rolling onto the floor to slither and stretch his way up again.

He could feel Wallace’s gaze on him like a spotlight, making him glow.

The music swelled in a final crescendo and he launched into a set of flips that he’d only started working on, grinning when he pulled it off.

As the music fell away, quieting in its final drips and drops, he glided back to the center of the room and stood in front of Wallace.

His boy clapped, then stood up to clap some more, offering a one-person standing ovation. “Volt, that was amazing! You’re so talented. You should be on stage.”

Volt shrugged, fans still whirring. If he were human, he was sure he would have been sweating. “It’s just a hobby. I do it for fun. I’m not sure I would want to perform.” He performed, often, as part of his job. Prism’s bots could be rented out for events, usually bachelor parties since many people considered sex with bots as only a step away from masturbation. And those events usually began with some form of dance performance, on a pole or strutting across the stage before weaving through the audience. He always joined in—he enjoyed the movement in whatever form—but what he did in his room wasn’t intended for him alone.

And apparently Wallace.

“Then I’m even more honored that you let me see. This was… this was really special. Maybe the best night of my life. Thank you, Daddy.” Wallace’s brown eyes gleamed.

That too-loose, too-tight feeling was back. Like his clock cycles weren’t timed to his programming.

It broke his heart that this was the best night of Wallace’s life, since he hated thinking of Wallace alone and friendless. Or more accurately, bullied and rejected.

But at the same time, it made what he had with Wallace feel close. Intimate. Somehow, he’d provided the best night in Wallace’s life, which made it one of the best nights in his own life as well.

This didn’t feel very professional anymore. Volt had to remind himself that Wallace was still a client as he pulled him to his feet and kissed him to within an inch of his life. “Do you want to go downstairs, baby boy? Let me show you my appreciation?” Volt would have taken him right here, but there was no bed, and the single chair would be cramped.

Not to mention that he was taking things slowly with his little creampuff. If he was lucky, maybe Wallace would let him get a peek at that soft, creamy belly again today. Maybe, just maybe, he could stroke a finger across the delicate whorl of his baby boy’s hole, waking him up to the possibility of other things they could do.

“I’m appreciating you ,” Wallace protested, until Volt cut him off with a kiss. That was soon followed by whimpers of “Please, Daddy!” as he looked up at Volt, pliant and willing, like he’d hung the moon.

“Then let’s go.”