Connor had been… uncharacteristically quiet. So quiet, in fact, that even Reed noticed, catching Hank’s eye behind his back and gesturing very obviously between them. Hank just glowered at him, but there was little heat behind it; he knew exactly why Connor had gone so mellow, why his little LED kept spinning, spinning, spinning. Aside from the LED, in fact, Connor barely showed anything – but to Hank, that was more than enough of a tell.
Connor was on edge. Horrifically, unbearably on edge.
His tactile sensors were active – concentrated, even – in what would be his erogenous zone, if he was a human, even in the absence of a genital component. He could feel both pain and pleasure there, thanks to CyberLife’s post-revolution patches, but he couldn’t engage any sexual functions unless something was installed. It was a bug, he supposed, and while it could sometimes be an annoyance, it wasn’t enough for him to do much about it. Usually he had some sort of component installed – most androids did, these days. The pleasure functions could be triggered manually, too, and there was something very sexy about having Hank’s hands deep in his wires.
The bug wasn’t an issue until Hank found out about it, and suddenly teasing Connor along that edge had become one of his favorite pastimes. One could almost call it a hobby.
Because Connor – severe, rigid, perfect Connor – was so beautiful when he did. Drawn along, lead on by little more than a promise, coming apart in all the ways he never allowed himself. Usually, Connor was focused and sharp in all things, but when Hank wound him up this tight, it all fell away, and Connor unfurled for him like a flower.
“Relax a little, would ya?” Hank groused from across his desk. “I’m getting a migraine just looking at you.”
Connor’s LED spun as he drew himself back to the moment again, away from thoughts of Hank’s hands. He didn’t reply; he offered little more than a grimace. The tightness in his face made Hank chuckle. Connor’s internal HUD told him it was still early in the afternoon. Time always seemed to pass far slower like this – Connor still wasn’t sure why some things made the passage of time, which he knew to be an invariable constant, change. Invariable constants shouldn’t change – AND Connor knew they didn’t, not really – but it felt that way.
Every time he moved, Hank’s spend would tug against his skin. It was dry, now, tight and almost uncomfortable, but Connor’s circuits buzzed whenever his mind was drawn to its presence – which was most of the time. His attention strayed, over and over, to the memory of Hank’s cock fucking wet and sloppy between his thighs, and the pressure in his abdomen would ignite again.
He wondered what Hank had pressed, and his hand ghosts along his own hip, over the centre of his pelvis, where his bladder might have been. He scans his own biocomponents – there’s a few clusters of cabling, a space reserved for genital additions, and a sachet of lubricant. Nothing that could – or should – elicit pleasure when pressed upon. Connor made a note to examine this further later on.
Thankfully, Connor was able to distract himself for the rest of the afternoon when he and Hank were called out to a scene. It was basic and required very little processing power on Connor’s part, which was disappointing. Hank seemed to feel differently, however, if the hand groping Connor’s thigh in the dark old building was anything to go by.
By the time they were finally able to punch out for the day, Connor was full of misdirected electrical signals that refused to diffuse. The android equivalent, he supposed, of being almost too horny to see straight. It was just Hank, Hank fucking between his thighs, Hank’s hands on his belly and his chest, Hank’s voice in his ear, Hank’s breath on his throat. Hank’s fingers pressing the soft flesh of his hips.
“You match the traffic light,” Hank joked as they rolled to a stop at a yellow light, and Connor made a surprised little noise. He must have been more affected than he thought. Hank, though – he didn’t have an LED that could clue Connor in, no, but his voice was low and dusky, and Connor noted all the typical signs of human arousal. The air was thick with it. “You haven’t said barely a word all goddamn day.”
Connor paused. Thought a little. There were many things he wanted to say. Eventually, he settled on not saying anything.
The pressure was unbearable. It was like – like he was broken. All his diagnostics came back clean, but it wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. The anticipation was much the same as waiting for an injured part to be swapped out, something broken to be fixed. The promise of relief. It wasn’t painful, but – Connor needed. He needed so badly. Glancing across through the half-dark of the evening, he saw a distinct bulge in the front of Hank’s jeans.
He swallowed down the flood of lubricant that welled under his tongue.
When they got home, Connor got out of the car as rigidly as he would if all his joints had rusted together. Hank seemed infuriatingly relaxed, but Connor knew he was putting it on. He could read him, after all, and he knew Hank was just as worked up. His suspicions were confirmed when they stepped into the darkness of Hank’s porch, when Hank’s hand found his arm and wrenched him into his side, fingers squeezing hard enough to send delighted feedback all over Connor’s body. His breath, his scratchy beard, the smell of his sweat. Connor let out a noise that would make Amanda turn in her grave.
“I’m gonna let Sumo out, give him his dinner, and you’re gonna go put on something nice and wait for me in the bedroom.”
It wasn’t a question. Connor’s subroutines stuttered anyway, and something inside him grew very heavy. He nodded.
Connor had no problem stepping around Sumo, who lumbered to meet them at the door just as he always did. He heard Hank fussing around in the kitchen, the opening of the back door, and even as he headed into the bedroom Connor could feel the cold flush of air it let in. His thirium pump worked a little faster to try and keep up with the ever-raising load on his systems as he went to the box in which he kept his genital components – he had a nice little collection of them, now, all shapes and sizes. He considered them for a moment before choosing one and going into the bathroom to attach it. It was easier there, in case something spilled, and the light was better. Connor balanced a foot on the edge of the tub and sighed with relief as he fumbled with the port to release his pelvic plate.
The genital attachment was halfway to his groin when he paused, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror. Hair mussed just a little, cheeks bright with color, still wearing his shirt and his tie and his jacket – exhilarated. Excited. Hank had a strange way of doing that to him, he thought, and smiled to himself in the mirror. He placed the component, gently, on the edge of the bath.
It felt a bit… weird, really, looking at himself like this. He’d never given any great thought to the opening left by his pelvic plate; it wasn’t very big, maybe enough to fit a hand inside, and it was more slippery than other openings in his chassis.
The idea would have punched the air clean out of his lungs, if he’d had any. A warning pertaining to a rise in core temperature blinked in his vision. He glanced at himself in the mirror again, mesmerized by his own expression, equal parts horrified and wondrous.
“Connor?” Hank called. “You good in there?”
Connor’s throat clicked as he began to breathe again. The component on the bath remained there, forgotten.
Connor padded into the bedroom to find Hank already there, shirt unbuttoned, lazily fisting his cock. Connor could barely tear eyes from it, nor could he stop the way his hardware began to thrum with want. Want. Such a new, furious thing. Hank’s eyes dragged over him. His hand stopped moving. He looked almost… alarmed.
“I want –,”Connor’s voice punched out of him all at once, his intonation slightly off. Hank’s eyes darkened. “I want to try something.”
Hank’s cock gave a little twitch, and when he spoke, his voice was so low that it was barely audible. “All right.”
Connor made his way across the room to the bed, sinking down onto his hands and knees, eyes never once leaving Hank’s. All the tension from the day seemed to be concentrated low in his abdomen, a heat that felt physical, somehow, warm and wet and swollen. Hank, propped up against the headboard, chuckled as he worked Connor’s tie off with the hand not working his dick. “Too eager to get on my dick, huh? Didn’t even bother getting undressed?” His amusement was deep and warm and cascaded through Connor like honey. “Get this off, c’mon.”
Connor flushed a little. Hank was right – it had been all he could think about. Everything else fell to the wayside. He shucked off his jacket, fingers a little slick from the opening between his legs, and set about working the buttons of his shirt open. Before he could finish, however, Hank fisted one huge hand in Connor’s collar and pulled him in for a kiss. It was long and bone-meltingly deep, and Connor couldn’t help but moan hoarsely into it; Hank swallowed the sound with a laugh.
“I don’t know how I lasted so long,” Hank confessed against the soft, wet sigh of Connor’s lips. “Seein’ you so worked up all day. It made me wanna fuck you into the next goddamn dimension.”
Connor shivered at the thought, angling for another kiss. “Should have,” he murmured. “Wanted you to.”
Hank moaned desperately. “Christ, in a perfect world I would, kid. Fuck you deep and fill you up in front of everyone. Show ‘em who you belong to, huh?”
Keening, Connor reached blindly for Hank’s cock only to have his hand shoved away. Hank tutted at him.
“Show me this idea of yours first, baby,” he crooned. Connor loved when Hank crooned like that, all soft and loving yet so wholly dark at the same time. “You worried me, walking in all opened up like that.”
Connor’s systems skipped a little. He had to breathe a little harder, now, to try and stop from overheating. Reluctantly, he pulled back from Hank and settled onto his back, propped up on his elbows. His legs, splayed over Hank’s hips, gave him the most delicious view. His soft thighs, his taut belly, every single slope and curve. The hole was… well. Hank wasn’t sure what to think of it yet, but he couldn’t deny it interested him.
Shyly, Connor stroked the tips of his fingers around the edge of the opening. It glistened with… something. Hank guessed it was some sort of lubricant. The skin had receded a bit around the edges, just like it did whenever Connor went around opening himself up, which made it look a lot less creepy than it would have otherwise. Hank resumed stroking himself, long and slow. He’d been half-hard all day just thinking about fucking Connor.
The kid still had Hank’s spunk clinging to his thighs. Christ.
A delightful blush spread down over Connor’s face and neck, dusting his shoulders and daubing him with color. Connor didn’t blush often. If he did, it was usually more of a flush, from exertion or exhilaration or the like. Blushing, though – Connor didn’t do that. He was rarely embarrassed enough. Abashed, sure, that was common enough when trying to navigate a world you knew next to nothing about. But he had a slick kind of confidence Hank rarely saw in anybody, and Connor usually took most things in his stride.
This, though? No.
Connor was ashamed of wanting, even now. Hank figured it was a leftover from when he was still under CyberLife’s thumb, told over and over and over again that he should not want, that he couldn’t want, that wanting meant he was a deviant. And Connor had hunted deviants. It was his entire purpose of existence, before. Not now, though, not anymore, and Hank reminded him of that every chance he got.
“I want –,” Connor’s voice came out staticky. He was stressed. His LED flickered, blue, blue, yellow. Hank stroked a large, rough hand up Connor’s shin, over his knee, and the moment turned soft. Connor grimaced at him and Hank could see the effort on his face. Blushing, dusky pink, perfect as a sunset, and Hank couldn’t look away. He massaged his thumb into the sinew of Connor’s inner thigh.
“Tell me what you want, sweet boy.”
Something behind Connor’s expression loosened. Hank knew how to play this. He wasn’t a decorated police lieutenant for nothing, after all.
“I want you to be inside me, here –,” A single, pale finger tugged at the hole. Those doe eyes held Hank, begging where his voice failed. “Please, Hank.”
Hank rasped out his boy’s name and pitched up onto his knees, leaning his weight over Connor’s body. Hell, he’d seen more than his fair share of weird shit, and this honestly didn’t even make the list. He felt down blindly between them, following the path of Connor’s forearm to his wrist, then his hand, and his fingers, to the hole there. Hank wished there was something else he could call it – hole felt so impersonal. He kissed Connor’s parted lips.
“Want me to fuck you here?” he asked, gravelly against Connor’s mouth. He felt around the opening of the hole, the smooth, hard ridges of plastic, dipping his fingertips inside. Connor shivered. A good reaction. The port wasn’t big – big enough for Hank’s hand, maybe. His thoughts quickly devolved into what Connor might do if Hank put his whole hand in there, messed up his wiring a little bit – shit. His dick began to leak appreciatively at the idea.
“Yes,” Connor whispered, hands clinging to every part of Hank they could reach. “Inside – bare.”
Hank groaned and kissed him hard enough to push him back into the bed. Connor made a delighted little mmph sound and kissed him back with no less urgency.
“So long as you don’t electrocute me or somethin’,” Hank muttered, trying his best not to think about their complete disregard of Health & Safety protocol, which certainly wouldn’t recommend sticking your dick into an android’s open port – though Hank figures it’s probably be done before by someone.
“I w-won’t,” Connor assured him in his broken little way, breaths pulling sharp and small and shallow. “Everything is – lubricated, and the housing is –,” That was enough for Hank, who swallowed the rest of the words with a kiss, taking Connor’s tongue into his mouth and making Connor arch his spine in response. His hardware was heating up, by now running hotter than a human would. Hank reached his fingers deeper, probing, exploring, delighting in the way Connor twitched when he did.
It was tighter than he expected. He’d seen inside Connor’s chassis a few times, sure, but – this was different. The cables were housed in silicone and thick, thermoresistant mesh. Hank didn’t know why or how, but everything was slippery, like it was coated in some kind of lubricant. The stems were clustered together, filling the space of Connor’s pelvis surprisingly tightly. Hank pushed around with his fingers, his heartrate climbing by the second. Connor was shaking, his face angled down between their bodies, his face blooming with surprise.
“How’s it feel?” Hank murmured, and Connor let out a startled noise in response; he tried to push his hips down on Hank’s hand, which he took as a good sign, and pressed in with his fingers a little more. He touched something smooth and soft, and his fingers suddenly moved too easily. He withdrew them and found them drenched.
“Lubricant,” Connor choked. Hank could feel the buzz of his cooling regulators inside his chassis just from holding him. Poor kid was working overtime. “External intrusion identified, systems release more when – in case it is stuck –,” His words were all cobbled together, but Hank didn’t mind. He got the picture.
“You’re wet for me, Con,” Hank mused, bringing his wet hand to Connor’s mouth and pressing his forefinger between his lips. Connor sucked in his fingers greedily. “Some things really don’t change, huh?”
Connor shook his head. “Always for you, Lieutenant,” he gasped when Hank pulled his fingers free. “Please, fuck me, my system warnings have become critical –,”
Hank groaned and rose onto his knees again, pulling Connor’s hips into his lap. His dick, fat and slick, slid along the opening of the hole, and Connor squirmed. He was burning up, arching into each touch, slick and dripping and begging Hank to fuck him to pieces. Hank fisted his cock and stroked once, twice, slapping the head of it down over the opening.
“Sure you want this, sweet boy?” he teased, and rage very briefly colored Connor’s features. Connor snapped out his name in a voice drawn high with tension, though he knew Hank could barely hold it together.
Hank angled his cock down and pushed. He slid in between the cables, all slick silicone, and it felt – weird. But a good weird, like fucking something you’re probably not supposed to fuck, which happened to be exactly what Hank was doing. Connor’s insides pressed strangely around him, almost clumsy in the way they shifted to allow for his girth. Hank wasn’t small by any stretch, and Connor began to pant high and tense, like someone about to vomit.
“You okay?” Hank rumbled, hair sticking to his sweat-slick forehead. Connor’s eyes rolled in their sockets and his entire body seized when Hank sank into him to the hilt.
“Don’t – can’t stop –,”
Fuck, Hank thought.
Hank’s fists sank into the mattress on either side of Connor’s head as he angled his weight forwards, letting it sink down and bend Connor’s knees back until they touched his ears. Connor sounded alarmingly human, then, choking on his breath and nearly crying with pleasure. The angle was unlike anything either of them had felt before: tight and slick and strange. Everything felt far more sensitive like this – Hank was inside him, truly inside him, and Connor felt him more intimately than he could ever have imagined. He choked on it, overwhelmed.
Later, when Hank was in his right mind again, he would realize that this was the point he should have warned Connor. As things were, however, he didn’t, and thank God for that.
If he had warned Connor about how hard he was going to fuck him, he’d never had gotten the chance to see Connor cry from pleasure, and that would’ve been a missed opportunity of a lifetime.
“Hank, Hank - !” Connor wheezed, desperate, as Hank pounded into him. Again and again and again. Hank’s thick cock spread open his insides, carving out a space just for him, contaminating everything his systems worked so hard to keep clean. He was Hank’s, now, inside and out, in all aspects, and the knowledge of it drowned him. Hank mouthed hot kisses against his face and his ears, and Connor began to cry, saline tears beading and sliding only for Hank to lick them from his cheeks. And, oh, the sounds – they were far worse than the sound of flesh on flesh. It was wet and slick and obscene, but fuck if it wasn’t hot. Hank grinned and laughed, voice wavering with the force of his fucking.
And then Hank reared back onto his knees, gripping Connor’s ankles above the poor boy’s head, gave a few last powerful thrusts, and came.
He came so deep inside Connor that if Connor had the capability of thinking about anything at that moment (which he didn’t), he might be concerned about ever getting it out again (which he wasn’t). All he could think about was Hank. Hank, Hank, Hank. Hank’s fingers. Hank’s cock. Hank’s come sluicing around inside him.
Connor dipped in and out of standby as his systems struggled to recover. Hank, after pulling out and catching his breath, refrained from fingering his come even deeper (like he wanted to) and instead flopped down beside Connor (which he also wanted to do). There was a crick in his back he knows will give him grief, but that was a problem for later.
“You okay?” Hank asked again when Connor finally broke the surface, eyes blinking open and LED fading to stillness. The first time Connor tried to speak, the only thing that came out was residual static. It took him a minute or two to recalibrate.
“I’m very good, Hank,” Connor eventually replied. The smile he gave Hank was easy and entirely sated. “I needed to recalibrate. Having such pressure on my processes for so long was –,”
“You don’t gotta explain,” Hank interrupted fondly, kissing him and smoothing the hair back from Connor’s face. Handsome, so handsome. “Sure you’re gonna be okay with my, uh – y’know.”
“Yes,” Connor said, his smile turning wry. “Although it is technically a contaminant, your ejaculate poses no risk to my internal integrity, and as such, I have elected to leave it there.”
Hank paused as he processed that.
“You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” he muttered, though not unhappily, and Connor’s laugh rang bell-like above them.