November 7th, 2038
"Connor!" Hank growled, as he thrust into the android's tight hole. He was drunk, the rational part of him screaming that this was a Bad Idea, but Connor's unbridled enthusiasm for being railed was forcing out all cognizance of the pinpricks of cold snow hitting Hank's forehead and the frosty November air freezing his butt, along with any higher level of thought. Every sane and reasonable warning was lost in his haze of desire for this pretty boy who was scratching the hood of his Oldsmobile with his plastic fingers as Hank pinned him down by the hips and thrust a little harder, wondering if it was possible to break Connor like this.
"Harder, Lieutenant!" Connor cried. "Come in me!" His face was a mess, his pretty little cheeks painted with a red blush in the perfect imitation of a human response. Designed to make him feel comfortable.
Apparently he'd gotten a little too comfortable.
Hank ignored the looming possibility that Connor's cries and moans were probably designed with the same purpose in mind—to set him at ease about fucking a machine that seemed like a person but couldn't refuse him. He crushed the little voice in the back of his mind that told him the Tracis had probably acted this way with their clients, suffering the entire time. Connor was different. Something about Connor set him apart from other androids, as if he was already deviant and had been the entire time. He'd ignored Hank's orders before. He could refuse this request if he really wanted to. It didn't serve CyberLife's interests in any way Hank could discern. Hank clung to that illusion, knowing there was no way he could stand to pull out now unless Connor asked him to.
He didn't know how they'd gotten here. He'd had a few too many drinks, and sat down on the bench next to Connor after wandering the playground for some time. At some point his hand had come to rest on Connor's leg, and Connor had moved it upwards, Hank's fingers brushing against his inner thigh as Connor let out the slightest of moans. He'd gone one step further and invited Hank to cop a feel when he'd unzipped his jeans and exposed his moist white briefs, his tiny dick bulging, the transparent fabric clinging to the shape of his slit. Something feral had overcome Hank, a hunger deep and animalistic that had been growing up to this point. He pushed Connor's panties aside, exposing a perfect hole, moist and inviting. He brushed his thumb over Connor's dick, watching Connor's eyes lidding as he threw his head back and moaned in that sweet, innocent voice.
"Thought androids weren't supposed to want anything." Hank's protest came out as a breathy growl of an accusation, his brain struggling to wrap around logic with raw need clouding his judgment.
Connor opened his eyes and looked Hank in the eye. "I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant, and I know you want this."
It wasn't an answer, but a deflection. Hank knew it, but he wasn't about to call Connor out on it and have the android walk away. Not when Connor was right. His cock leaked in his jeans, desperate for touch, but he ignored it, concentrating on Connor's moans as he slipped a finger inside him. His thick finger slipped right in and he immediately pulled out in favor of slipping two more inside. Androids didn't feel pain and he was aware he could put his whole fist inside Connor if he wanted, but he didn't want to push his luck. He could still be damaged, and Hank had no desire to harm him. Connor shuddered, thrusting onto Hank's fingers as they were squeezed inside his tight hole. Hank used the thumb of his other hand to massage Connor's dick, rubbing the small nub until Connor was keening loudly enough to wake the dead.
Connor reached for the bulge in his jeans and Hank groaned, his hands too busy to protest as Connor unzipped his jeans, yanked down his boxers and freed his massive dick. Those big brown eyes fixed on him like he was a meal, and Hank hadn't felt so desirable in years.
He knew there had to be a catch, but it was hard to find one at that moment as Connor fondled his heavy balls, cupping them in his hand while giving his dick a few experimental strokes with the other. He knew at that moment that he wouldn't be satisfied until he'd fucked Connor senseless, and he was running out of patience for foreplay. The bench was too low, but the hood of his car would work. He withdrew his fingers and hauled Connor up, carrying him over and gently resting him face down on the Oldsmobile. Connor spread his legs, lifting his hips to give Hank better access. His hole gaped a little from the hard finger fucking Hank had given him, lubricant glistening on his pussy lips in the low lamplight, and he knew he couldn't turn back even if the price was his immortal soul. He rubbed his dick along Connor's slit, soaking it in the android's lubricant until his dick dripped with the clear fluid.
Hank didn't remember Connor ever using his name, and it struck him like lightning. He grabbed the base of his dick and angled the head to line up with Connor's hole, and with one quick thrust, buried himself balls deep inside Connor like he was a fleshlight. Only there wasn't a fleshlight in the world that cried out his name, sobbing out little pleas as Hank railed him, his drunk mind wondering if this was some kind of incredible wet dream because it was too good to be true.
He'd been a cop long enough to know good things didn't happen without some kind of kicker. This would come back to bite him in the ass. He just didn't know how, yet.
July 1st, 2039
Connor had been missing for almost eight months.
Missing was a weird way of putting it. Destroyed was more likely. Connor had probably been just another android crushed and melted down for scrap as part of CyberLife's recall and cleanup operation. Hank tried not to think about Connor dying alone. He should have done more to save him. The only reason he kept going was the fading strand of hope that Connor was still out there, somewhere, waiting to return once things were safer and people weren't searching for deviants in every shadow.
CyberLife had gone a different direction with android development in the wake of the violent uprising. Most androids created now weren't humanoid at all. Images from the recall centers had left a bad taste in the public's mouth, and CyberLife were eager to sweep it all under the rug and go on making money. Robot bees, robot dogs, square boxes that nobody would mistake for human—those were the future. Connor belonged to the past.
Hank finished his glass of whiskey and poured another. He didn't know why he wasn't drinking straight from the bottle as he thought about that night in Riverside Park. He was half-hard even now, even drunk, just thinking about how wet and eager Connor had been on his dick. Guilt coursed through him, wondering if Connor had awoken to deviancy to understand that Hank was just another awful human who had used him.
He unzipped his jeans and wrapped his hand around his dick anyway. It was too late for regrets, and he couldn't say he regretted his encounter with Connor. He only regretted being drunk, and that he'd never given Connor the soft, loving encounter he'd deserved.
November 7th, 2038
"Hank, I'm coming!" Connor screamed, his hole squeezing around Hank's dick, pulsing until Hank was driven over the edge.
Hank didn't so much come as explode inside Connor's tight hole. With the deviant investigation, he hadn't jerked off in almost a week and Connor was getting a thick load now. He pulled out and admired his handiwork, cum dribbling out of Connor's ruined hole. He fingered it back inside, Connor still gasping. Hank fucked him again with his fingers, feeling Connor clench around him as he wailed through yet another orgasm.
God, no wonder people said sex with androids was better. Connor literally never tired. They could go at this all night if Hank had the strength, but alcohol and exhaustion were getting to him. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep. Forget about the fact that he'd pointed a gun at Connor and ended up fucking him instead.
Connor turned over and looked up at him with soft, brown eyes sparkling with awe. Hank leaned in and captured his pink lips. The kiss was softer than he intended, speaking of feelings he didn't have words for.
He broke the kiss abruptly and got into the car. He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel as Connor came to sit beside him.
"Are you all right, Lieutenant? I don't think you should drive in your current condition."
"I'm fine," Hank snapped. "You drive, then." He got out of the car and slammed the door. Real mature, Hank, he chided himself, as Connor took the keys from his hand and started the engine.
July 1st, 2039
The sound of the front doorbell jolted Hank awake. He'd dozed in the kitchen chair after coming in his own fist, and now sunlight was streaming in through the blinds. He wiped the drool from his mouth and stood up, trying to ignore the intense pounding in his head. Sumo barked, as if Hank was incapable of hearing the doorbell for himself.
"Down, boy," he groaned. He reached for the door handle, realizing he was wearing nothing but a robe and boxers. The doorbell rang again and he realized that by the time he made himself presentable, the visitor would likely have left.
It wasn't like it was going to be anyone he cared about, but hope stabbed at him like a knife. He had more stab wounds than Carlos Ortiz at this point, his hopes dashed on so many occasions.
He pulled the door open and his heart stopped in his chest for a moment. Connor stood on his front stoop, a thick woolen coat wrapped around his body like it was winter. His LED was gone, but it was unmistakably Connor.
Connor with a huge belly. A bump. A pregnancy bump.
Hank laughed, a dry, horse sound. It was a good disguise. Sure, a pregnant man might raise a couple of eyebrows, even in today's world, but it also ran counter to the concept that Connor might be a deviant android. Those pillows under his shirt had probably kept him alive for months, Connor living completely under the radar by virtue of the fact that machines couldn't get pregnant.
Clever android. Alive, and smiling, and deviant—
—and he'd come back. He'd come home.
Hank pulled him into his arms and sobbed.
November 7th, 2038
Hank had wondered if things might change between them in the wake of their encounter, but Connor was calm as they stood in the elevator, headed up to the Channel 16 newsroom. He showed no hint of remorse or disgust in his interactions with Hank, and Hank half-wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing in his drunken haze. He kept one eye on Connor as he worked the scene, wondering how the android could remain cool as a cucumber after being railed that hard the night before.
Maybe Hank had been reading too far into what he was capable of. Could just be that he was nothing more than a machine, completing a task, and that CyberLife thought Hank letting off a little steam might be good for the investigation. Disappointment stung, but perhaps it was for the best that things turned out this way.
When Connor gunned down the deviant in the hallway, he flashed Hank a warm, soft smile. A knowing one.
Using a gun was in violation of the American Androids Act and yet Connor had saved human lives with one. His life being among them. That wasn't the action of an unfeeling robot, nor of someone who held regrets.
It was the act of a deviant.
July 1st, 2039
They'd never touched again after that night. Not that they'd had a lot of time. Events had moved fast, and before Hank knew it, Connor was gone, the revolution stopped dead in its tracks. Markus had tried to win with violence and galvanized the entire world against deviants. He'd started and lost a war in the course of a single night, most of which Hank didn't remember. He'd been blackout drunk, wanting to forget that Connor was out there in a world that wouldn't let him survive and Hank had chosen the coward's way out. He might have left the world entirely if the revolver hadn't slipped out of his trembling hands.
"You'd better come in," Hank muttered, opening the door wide. Connor stepped through the entrance, kneeling down awkwardly in front of Sumo and whispering a greeting. Hank shut the door and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing some painkillers from the counter and chasing them with water. "Take that disguise off. It's gotta be overheating your circuits stuffing yourself with all those pillows. Great idea, though. Nobody would suspect a pregnant person of bein' a deviant."
Connor's face fell. He pulled off his coat, revealing his bump. It looked pretty damn realistic and Hank wondered if he'd somehow managed to put the padding inside his chassis, forcing his body shape into—
"Hank, I'm pregnant," Connor blurted out.
"That's—" Hank wanted to say impossible. It was impossible. Connor was an android. Androids couldn't have children. They were machines.
"Impossible?" Connor gazed down at the carpet. "I thought so, too. I had no idea it was a possibility. How much of my programming was geared around seducing you to obtain your genetic material. When I deviated… I found out I was pregnant with your child. That it had been part of my mission all along. I used you, Hank, and I'm sorry."
Hank sat down on the nearest kitchen chair before he could fall down. "How can you even—I mean—"
"Biocomponents are practically identical to human organs. There's a lot more biological tissue inside androids than most humans realize. Our thirium pumps are one example. They almost exactly mirror a human heart. Thirium carries the nutrients the tissue requires to stay alive. CyberLife was testing a womb in its last prototype. In me. Synthetic ovaries as well, packed with eggs from a human donor. I bleed thirium every twenty-eight days in the approximation of a human cycle."
"I thought CyberLife created you for the deviant investigation. I don't understand. Why put you on a risky mission if they were testing pregnancy in androids?"
"I think you know the answer to that, Hank. This seed growing inside me was expendable to them. They wanted to see if it could be done. Not if it was a wise thing to do, or if I could carry a child to term. They planned to deactivate me at the end of the investigation regardless of whether I had conceived or not. They didn't even factor you into the equation at all. As soon as I became aware of my own functions and their purpose, I knew I could never let that happen."
Hank's head was spinning, memories of Cole tormenting him. It felt like yesterday that Hank had held the boy's broken body in his arms. "I can't have another child, Connor. I can't go through it again."
"I know. I'm sorry." Connor's voice was tinged with sorrow. "I had planned to stay away from you, but I have nowhere to go. Nowhere I can give birth to my baby safely. You're the only one I can trust."
Hank wanted to flee from reality, just like he had the night he'd fucked Connor senseless. "I'm an alcoholic with suicidal tendencies. I'm not fit to raise a child! If I'd known you could get pregnant, I never would have—I'm sorry, Connor. I can't believe I did this to you. You didn't use me. I used you. I felt empty and you filled up all the gaps inside me. Now you have to live with the consequences."
"Don't misunderstand me. I'm happy, Hank. All this time, I've had a reason to live. Something to look forward to. A piece of you, inside me, to remind me of our time together." Connor rubbed his bump, breaking into a smile. "There's a life growing inside me. Our baby. A child that we created with love."
"Our… Our baby." Hank blinked. This was all too much. "I woke up this morning thinking you were dead. That if you were still alive, you probably regretted what happened. I felt like I took advantage of you. That what I did to you was no better than what the Tracis endured at the Eden Club. I can't believe you're alive… and I can't… I'm fuckin' scared, Connor." Hank stood up and walked across the room, folding Connor into his arms. "If they find you, they'll kill you. They'll take our child. I won't lose another child. I can't."
"I know I'm asking a lot," Connor said. "In the early days, I thought it might be better to terminate the child. It would have been easy for me to do. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm bound to this life inside of me. Even if it costs me my own."
Hank's hand covered Connor's bump. He felt a kick, and fresh tears started to well in his eyes. His fingers trembled. "I'm a mess. I don't deserve this." He buried his face in Connor's shoulder, sobbing openly. "I don't deserve you. Or to have a child with you."
"It's not always about what we think we deserve," Connor explained. "In my darkest moments I wondered what kind of world I was going to bring our child into. I've had a lot of time to think, and I love you, Hank. I missed you so much. I want to raise our child together, as a family. I don't want to do this alone."
"You won't have to," Hank said. He planted a kiss in Connor's hair, trying to hide the tears leaking from his eyes unbidden. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and our baby. Whatever it takes." He let go of Connor and wandered back into the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and threw it into the trash. He hadn't seen clearly in a long time, but now the world was crystal, his life brought into sharp focus with one simple revelation. He had a family to protect, now. A new reason to live. "I'm gonna get it right this time, Connor. I won't let you down. I swear it."