Chapter Twelve
Conversations With Smith
The Grammar Agent
Hugo Weaving Biography
Deir-ty FAQ
Deir-ty Links
Contact Tanathir
Hugo Eye Candy

Playing Human


A/N: I am not obsessed with Agents at all. Whatever could have led you to that conclusion? ^__^ So, anyway. This. Is. The. Nooky. Chapter. Can also be known as The Leapfrog Chapter. (This is what happens when Mr. Muse gets too much sugar.)

Warning: This chapter has fully earned its R rating. Please use your discretion.



Gemini was dreaming about an old argument with Scorpio.

“How can you make me do this?” she demanded.

“Simple. You’ll do it because you want the transfer. You were good at watching the Resistance, and I hate to lose a good Watcher in that area because she couldn’t say no to them. If your loyalties are wavering, Gemini, I need to tighten the reins a bit.”

“A bit!”

“No need to shriek, Gem dear. You are a security risk. I’ll let you take on another watching job, but you’ll do exactly as I say for as long as it’s necessary. You’ll do it because, quite frankly, no one else volunteered. But I don’t need your willingness, now do I?” Scorpio sneered. “I can’t have people trading loyalties and information on a whim. We are the Watchers. We straddle the line between dream and reality. We have a unique perspective. The best of both worlds. The machines won’t destroy us because we provide insight they need, and the Resistance thinks we’re recording their escapades to further their cause. I think this assignment is a small price to pay for diplomatic immunity, Gemini. Don’t you?”

“This isn’t the original goal of the Watchers! You’ve warped it...made it some twisted agenda of your own.”

“Nothing wrong with protecting your own interests. And my interests are jeopardized by your compassion for the Resistance. Your need to change jobs doesn’t help either.”

“You’re sacrificing the safety of the entire group, Scorpio!”

Scorpio laughed. “You sound like a Vulcan. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’ Do you actually believe the bull my predecessor shoveled out?”

“At least tell me why you’re making me do this.”

Scorpio leaned toward her and grinned his trademark evil grin. “Think about it, Gemini. Throughout the history of espionage, how much vital information has been gathered from pillow talk?”

Gemini’s rage swelled. She woke herself up. Covered in cold sweat, she sat up, panting and thrashing at the first object she encountered. It was Smith, watching her sleep again.

Calmly he gripped her wrists to restrain her. “You were mumbling,” he said. “What did you dream?”

She told him. A much truncated version leaving most of her feelings out, but she told him. Blackmail was something an Agent could understand. She’d seen them use it. Afterward she sighed. She flopped back onto her pillow, sniffling in a manner quite unlike a woman who had spent a lot of time running with well-armed Resistants.

With a tiny warble of warning, the cat leapt onto the bed and nudged Gemini’s leg. Its purrs did little to help the human’s upset.

“Oh, Puddy,” Gemini sighed, scratching behind its ear.

“That’s not her name.”

“Oh?” She was interested to see where this went. “What is her name?”


“Closed Circuit...Circuit did you decide on a name like that?”

“You weren’t naming her...and she didn’t fall asleep on your lap.”

“She slept on your lap? Okay, now I’m jealous. Cats play favorites, you know.”

Smith idly stroked Circuit’s arched back. “I’ve said that I won’t harm you, Gemini. Your fears about your assignment are illogical.”

She looked at him. “I trust you, Smith. I’ve told you things I don’t tell other people. Yet...knowing what you are...I’m afraid of myself for trusting you.” She started sniffling again. With a disgusted look on her face, Circuit flicked her tail at the two on the bed and left the room.

Smith tilted his head and raised an eyebrow slightly. “Why does this Scorpio make such grandiose assumptions about my sexual orientation?” he asked. “He appears to be assuming that I am...straight.”


“Hmmmm, I’d like to meet Scorpio. Overbearing, insensitive, enamored of his own power games. I might...enjoy...his company.”

Gemini gaped at him. “Wh-what?” She saw his smirk. “You JERK!” She threw the pillow at his head. But she was already laughing. She felt better. How was he able to do that for her? She hugged him. “I like you, Smith.”

No one had ever liked him. Smith didn’t know how to respond. He gently rubbed Gemini’s back in a method similar to the one that seemed to work best in calming the cat. He could not offer her emotional support, but he could give her physical comfort.

He genuinely did not want to hurt her. A unique phenomenon that he still didn’t want to analyze. Gemini wasn’t a virus. Although she was still, to use a Resistant term, a coppertop, because she was a Watcher and thus aware of the true nature of the Matrix, she was unique. Smith was accustomed to humans fearing and hating him. Gemini admitted that she was afraid of him, but she didn’t avoid confrontations with him. That could be either courage or lack of common sense.

“You don’t hate me?” he asked.

She pulled back and looked at him. Slowly she reached up and touched his face. “I never did,” she said.

She kissed him. Softly, deliberately, getting almost no response from him. When she stopped, she watched him, almost tempted to use her talent with the Matrix to extend this moment in time. The only light in the bedroom was supplied by a lamp Smith had left on in the hallway. Low light always made things more attractive. Not that Smith needed help looking more attractive. His eyes alone were enough to make her shiver slightly. For an absurd moment, Gemini wondered how many coppertops it took to supply an Agent’s power needs. This particular Agent must require a lot of power.

Her hand moved from his cheek and down his chest to settle over where his heart would have been if he were human. He had a heartbeat. Startled, she pressed her other hand over her own heart. Although it wasn’t necessary in the Matrix, she kept up the illusion because it was familiar and comforting. But the AI didn’t need the comfort.

“You...why do you...?” she began. “Your heart is beating. You shouldn’t even have a heart.”

“Symbolic manifestation of active subroutines.”

“And the...body heat?”

“Symbolic manifestation of higher logarithmic functions.”

“Your breathing...?”

“Necessary for speech.”

Well, now that all of those questions were answered...

Gemini wasn’t sure how this would play out, but she had to start it. At least by starting it at a time of her choosing she could have some control over the situation Scorpio had forced her into. The time was now. Of course now she needed some cooperation...

Gemini wasn’t used to taking the initiative like this. She wasn’t sure how other women felt, but she knew how she felt, and it gave her a thrill to submit to a masculine presence. Despite years of feminism, despite people singing the virtues of empowerment, Gemini wanted to be able to give herself over to someone. The problem was, when she gave her body, she couldn’t keep her emotions from also getting involved. In her experience, that led to trouble.

Dammit. Sex was never simple. Sex with an Agent would be vastly more complicated.

Smith might have known what she was contemplating. His hand covered hers over her heart. He watched her, his blue, blue eyes unblinking. Why had she ever protested taking this assignment? They sat facing each other on the bed. Her heartbeat sped up as she imagined the possibilities of makin’ it with a robot. Smith was more advanced than any robot thus far created in the programmed reality of the Matrix. The late Twentieth Century was a relative Dark Age when it came to technology. Smith was top-of-the-line technology.

Gemini was wearing her pale blue tank top and pajama pants. She felt naked under Smith’s gaze. She recalled his question about her underwear and nearly cringed outwardly at the memory.

“You’re overdressed,” she said, looking at Smith in his suit.

“A dilemma that can be easily solved.”

Now, that was as much of an invitation as she was bound to get from the Agent. Gemini loosened Smith’s tie and dropped it on the floor beside the bed. His jacket soon followed. Rising to her knees, she wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. Smith remained relatively passive again, as though unsure how to respond to her advances.

She stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Is this how you plan to teach me?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Your lack of concrete instruction is appalling.”

She sighed. “I’m trying to teach by example. It’s the best way to learn.”

“Not the most efficient way.”

Gemini rolled her eyes. “Stop thinking about efficiency, Smith. Use your instincts. Just let go. Improvise.” Reaching her fingers beneath the collar of his starched white shirt, she kissed him again.

“I don’t have instincts,” he said when she came up for air.

“Dammit, Smith!” Gemini flopped onto her back on the bed. “I give up. Maybe you’re unteachable.”

There was a pause. Then Smith covered her body with his. He kissed her until she forgot her own name. This was more like it. Gemini clutched at his head, her desire making her frantic. She sucked on his lower lip again. Smith’s resulting growl felt even better with his weight pressing her into the mattress. Tangling her legs with his, she pried his shoes off with her feet. What she wouldn’t give to know what Smith was thinking right now...

She was panting when he lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes were glittering. “Is that sufficient improvisation?”

“Touch me...” she whimpered.



He did. Starting at the nape of her neck, Smith traced a warm hand over her bare shoulder and down her left side. Stimulating nerve endings, indeed! Smith was a very fast learner. His fingertips crept beneath the hem of her top. Gemini moaned under his mouth as Smith slowly massaged up her ribcage. He found that sensitive spot on her ear again and grazed it with his teeth.

She yanked Smith’s earpiece and its accompanying battery pack out and flung it blindly aside. “Dammit,” she growled against his mouth, “let me touch *you*.” Sitting up, Gemini fumbled with Smith’s belt buckle. “Still too many clothes,” she muttered impatiently.

Smith wasn’t helping. Both of his arms were now beneath her tank top and tunneling into her unruly hair, anchoring her head for another searing kiss. When he committed to something, he committed all of his attention to it. Gemini wasn’t complaining. She was too busy taking apart Smith’s shirt so she could make contact with his skin.

None of the metaphysics of the Matrix mattered now. Scorpio’s ulterior motives didn’t matter now. What mattered was the both of them getting their clothes off as quickly as possible. Gemini tugged Smith’s shirt off his shoulders and ran her hands over the bare skin. Was that a tremble she felt, or just another subliminal growl?

Smith removed her top. He looked at her. “Touch you...everywhere?” he asked suggestively. He placed his hand beneath her left breast, over her thudding heart.

Gemini swallowed hard against sudden nervousness. How much of this experience would Smith report to the Mainframe? How much would she be able to report to the Watchers without total embarrassment?


She raised her eyes to his. Damn if he didn’t look like he was concerned for her.

Smith took her hand and deliberately brought it to rest in his lap, just below his belt, reaffirming his anatomical accuracy.

“Teach me,” he said.

She nearly fainted. Smith removed his belt for her. Boldly she cupped him. He made a small sound that she took for approval. Well, since he obviously could receive tactile sensations...Gemini moved her hand slightly. Smith clenched his jaw and struggled to sit still. Ahh, yes. He liked this, didn’t he? Not so impassive anymore...

She let herself grow frantic again. His shirt was on the floor in no time. His slacks soon followed.


Silk boxers.

That answered *that* question.

As for other speculations...

Smith’s hand tickled the sensitive bare skin at the small of her back. She took the time to guide his fingers beneath the waistband of her pajamas. His sharply exhaled breath traveled along her shoulder and neck. She shivered. The phrase “sex machine” took on a whole new meaning. They kissed again as they helped each other out of the last scant bits of cloth still covering them.

Dear Lord.

He was magnificent.

He was circumcised.

“It’s the human convention of the times,” he said, making no apologies.

For some reason, Gemini was incredibly embarrassed by the whole notion. Shit. She wasn’t a virgin...why the hell did this one detail suddenly mean so much?

Smith tried to comfort her. Massaging her shoulders, he said, “I also have no appendix.”

“That doesn’t help! You probably have no intestines, either.”

“I have all the components that matter.”

“Oh, God!” She covered her face with her hands. “That definitely doesn’t help.” She tugged the tangled sheet up to her chin. “Excuse me while I go *die*...”


She looked at him. That strange almost-sadness was back in his eyes. He sure as hell didn’t look like an Agent now. What the hell kind of field day did his programmer have when creating him? Damn. He couldn’t understand her hesitance, and if he had been human he would be fed up with the frustration by now. She was lucky. Because Smith was so naive about all this, he would probably be wonderfully uninhibited. And, theoretically, she could do no wrong here. Gemini felt faint again. Was she insane, letting this opportunity go to waste?

“Smith.” Turning to him, she wrapped her arms over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. You can’t understand my reluctance, can you?”

“Are you still attracted to me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Touch me again, Smith. This time with feeling.”

“I don’t...”

“Just shut up and do it, Smith.”

He did. He kissed her. She let him experiment with all the ways that two mouths could come together. Nibbling on his lips, she discovered that he seemed to like it when her teeth skated over the full bottom one. She sighed and pressed against him when his hands traveled down her torso to explore the curves of waist and hips that were the trademarks of her gender. Wordlessly she urged him over her once more. Someday she might be able to explain why a man’s weight on top of her was such a turn-on. Someday she might regain conscious control over her vocal cords. She was moaning like a woman possessed.

Part of her marveled at it all. She didn’t know if Smith felt so warm and wonderful because of his programming, or because that’s what she wanted and the Matrix supplied those sensations to her. Either way, she was very pleased right now. As for why Smith’s programmers had decided that body hair was a necessity...she wasn’t going to think about it. She liked it. She liked him. That was enough.

Masculine skin against feminine skin, they touched each other. She forgot about her earlier inhibitions. Smith’s mouth found a wonderful spot on the side of her neck. His attentions there made her squirm. As long as she didn’t protest, Smith took time to explore each new spot with focused attention. Gemini began to retaliate. She licked a tiny trail up his jawline, then nuzzled the place where his shoulder joined his neck. He rumbled again in that peculiar way of his. She all but purred in response. This was good. Just as she’d said it should ideally be, it was the intimate physical sharing of two people. Very good...

Her knee pressed into his lower back, urging him closer. “Smith, please...” she moaned.

Disjointedly, she murmured something about the fact that males and females were designed by nature to fit together.

Thank God he understood. Supporting most of his weight on his elbows, Smith held her face in gentle hands as he brought them together.

She gasped, then voiced her pleasure in a ragged moan that was almost a whimper. Instinctively her body arched beneath his until they were united in the final intimacy. As physically close as two people could possibly get in this reality. She wanted to freeze time forever. Forget the reasons that had brought her to this moment. She just wanted to feel.

She gulped for air so she could tell him how wonderful this was, but the words wouldn’t come. “Smith,” was all she could whisper. Gemini tried to convey her feelings to him through her eyes. Her throat could not seem to form any of the three words she was so desperately trying to send to him.




Then he moved. That’s when her screams began. She wasn’t usually a screamer, but for him she made an exception. She clutched at him, moved with him until her brain gave up and she became a creature of pure sensation. Vaguely she recognized Smith murmuring in her ear. Something about neural input. Then he stopped talking and she could only assume he was overwhelmed as well.

Her mouth feasted on his, her tongue clashing and retreating with his as they shared breath and body. Against all logic, she hoped that Smith was capable of feeling just a small portion of the pleasure she felt. Could he transcend the limits of his programming? Would he find pleasure in this?

Gemini felt her body tighten. She tried to hold back, to give Smith time if he was able to feel his own body peak. If his programming would allow it. ‘Please let him be able to...’

“Smith...” she groaned. “Please...I can’t... Help me...” She was panting. Her body was betraying her. “Oh, Smith, I’m falling...”

He clutched her shoulders. “I have you.” He kissed a patch of perspiration at her temple. She felt a new tension in him. Almost too subtly to notice, his voice shook as he murmured into her ear, “I can feel you, Gemini. Just let go. I have you...”

She let go. One long, high wail punctuated her release. Her world was reduced to stars within a vast blackness. She was nothing and everything and she understood why some poets called it “the little death.” She fell...

Smith was there to catch her.

Floating her way down from the endorphin high, she felt Smith go tense. His body curved over hers and he gave a peculiar sigh/growl unlike any she had yet heard from the Agent. Then he was still. His forehead rested on her shoulder, his breath huffing softly over her skin. She held him, worrying that he might have fried a transistor. Marveling at the whole experience. Wondering how Smith would perceive it.

“Magnificent,” she whispered.


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Viva el Hugo! Viva las Deir-ty Girls!