Neo didn't really know how he'd gotten himself in this position. One minute he was fighting, fists and feet flying with deadly speed and accuracy, and the next moment flat on his back. Hands holding him down, clothes and pretense stripped away much less methodically than he'd expected, pale skin and fear exposed inch by inch. He struggled, railed against this new violation, waiting for the hand to plunge into his chest and try once again to take him over.

Instead, the hands caressed, too many to keep track of, each one ghosting or scraping or crawling over his flesh, and yet still keeping him down, holding him still, preventing him from flying away. Something flared inside him as one rough nail scraped over a nipple, and he could only hope that Link wasn't watching, wouldn't see. That he and Morpheus and, oh no, oh please, not Trinity, that they would never, ever know that he was hard and needy so quickly under the onslaught.

Neo had been inside Smith once, read his secret code and turned him inside out, and now he felt his legs being spread by rough hands, gentle fingers touching him in places even Trinity didn't know he'd secretly craved, fingers and now, oh god, tongues running roughshod over his self-respect. A hot mouth closed over the tip of his cock, suckling, as teeth bit at a nipple, as shockingly gentle hands ran through his hair.

The iron grip on wrists and ankles shifted, his shoulders pushed harder into the concrete, arms overhead like submission, feet in the air like wantonness. His hips were lifted, opened, and a hot tongue probed his most private thoughts. Reality and code crashed together as meaning whispered across his skin in a fall of green symbols, and something like desire took root in his mind, where before it had only lain on the surface.

Neo gasped as the heat coiled inside him, lighting up the cool greens and whites with flickers of red and deep, sensual violet. A kiss took his thoughts away for long minutes, tasting of rusty steel and bright copper blood, and a part of him wondered, as their tongues wrestled, if losing would mean the two Smiths would meet in the middle of him.

His ass was on fire, and god, he'd never allowed himself to think about these things, not once since he'd left the Matrix that first, gut-wrenching time. Never realized how much he'd missed it until a callused palm grasped his cock with that practiced stroke that only another man knows just how to deliver. Neo tried to arch, to writhe, but he wasn't truly a participant here, and even that was denied him.

His fingers were sucked into hot mouths by twos, teeth nibbling at a palm, a wrist, a chorus of erotic touches accompanied by the maddening brush of a sleeve here, a pantleg there, as if to underscore his own nudity in this mass of impeccably suited ex-Agents. Even his sunglasses were gone, the sun instead blocked out by the press of bodies, each one trying to get closer for a touch, a kiss, some contact with the One.

A voice, like an anchor in his ear, dripped with familiar contempt as it doled out the words, "Mr. Anderson, I'm going to have you now. And there is nothing you can do to stop me."

For one wild moment he thought, why would he want to? But then it came back to him in a flash, Zion and Trinity, the prophecy and the Matrix and all of the futures that were depending on him. The red pill that he'd never known would open up so many new doors, but close off so many other parts of himself. His thighs ached with the strain, his entire body poised and waiting for something, the power to free himself maybe, or the ring of a phone in the distance.

Instead, he heard the rasp of a zipper, one and then another, and the rustle of cloth. Some of the hands lifted, others shifted, and he felt something new, unexpected, a weight settling across his hips even as they were lifted off the ground, braced and held tight. Something slick and blunt pressed against his opening even as his own cock was grasped, held, positioned.

A hundred gasps filled the square as Smith lowered himself onto Neo's cock, as Smith thrust smoothly into Neo's ass, as Neo's lips parted, easily accepting whatever was thrust between them. The Smiths were hot, almost hotter than a human would have been, and any thoughts Neo might have had of escape or even protest melted away in the heat of it. The pre-come on his tongue tasted like mineral salts, vivid and metallic, and he was surprised to find that he liked it.

Someone moaned, the sound echoing, and there was a sudden rhythm to everything. Each swipe of a palm, each nip of teeth, each thrust, all in unison, building swiftly to something too big to contemplate. Neo wondered for a long moment if he'd been poisoned by the Smiths after all, or if this wanton thing had been fluttering, caged, inside him all along. Movement freed his eyes for a moment to the sight of one lone, naked Smith, straddling him, face transported by something Neo didn't dare name.

The coil tightened again and his balls drew up as his entire focus narrowed to the feel of that rough/smooth texture on his cock, of the heat buried in his ass and the bitter edge to the taste in his throat. He sucked, hard, put his tongue to work, let his body go limp. Another collective moan, this one nearly pained, as each Smith felt his surrender.

The rhythm took on a manic edge now, raw and broken, as they all moved in unison, hands and mouths and cocks and hips, everyone thrusting and for one shining moment Neo thought he could almost feel what they were feeling, many and one, pleasured and pleasuring. Something dark broke open inside Neo and spilled, gleaming, into his veins. He couldn't even cry out, mouth and throat full of alien life as the Smiths all spent into and onto him in glorious union.

Neo tensed, then, waiting for that shimmering seed to move, crawl, invade, destroy. To make him into one of them, destroy their hopes for the One. Instead, he felt himself moving outward, fragmenting, one ravaged Neo becoming a hundred, a thousand, feeling the wonder as each Smith gained back something that they'd never known they were craving. Looked out from a thousand eyes and saw a new beginning.

He reached the outer limit, the last lone Smith and saw the Matrix through those eyes, saw the order in the teeming chaos, the meaning in the minutiae. Smelled the stink of humanity creeping in the bright edge of his senses and even as he began to recede back into himself, left each one of them with his own love for the scent of their skin, the touch of their hands. Showed them their own joy at his closeness, opened up the door to their own much-denied attraction to the very thing they claimed to hate.

They didn't even bother to deny it, just moved away, clothes rustling, wandering into the city to see with their new eyes, touch with hands now craving human contact. He was left, gasping and nude, covered in come and one final, very naked Agent. They kissed, long and hard, and he tasted a new depth there, organic and real, Pinocchio finding his way to reality through the strangest paths.

"I have to go. They'll be wondering about me," said Neo, eyes speaking different words, dropping little bits of shining code into Smith's brain.

"I know, Neo," the Smith replied, one voice with a thousand echoes. He stood, moved away, found his clothes and began putting them on. "You know," he added, tossing Neo his coat, "I don't think I've ever been naked before."

Neo came up behind him, kissed his shoulder, wrapped an arm around his waist. "It's about time, then," he said softly.

They both dressed in silence, each item of clothing a barrier, shutting in the rawness, shutting out the world. Just as Neo was about to put his glasses on, Smith's hand on his wrist stopped him. "I won't be able to just let you win, you know," he said, smirking as he added, "Mr. Anderson."

Neo looked him over. His enemy, his lover. He'd known even then that they wouldn't be able to stay on the same side, but it still hurt to hear. He put his glasses on, faced the final Smith and said, "My name is Neo."