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Hank could admit to leaning on some tendencies that could certainly be considered self-destructive. When things got tough, when the world became too much to handle, everyone who knew him knew where to find him: at the bottom of a bottle in the nearest bar. He’d fucked himself up with booze and vice and self-loathing, and when that failed to get him where he wanted, he’d go further.

Hank was not what one would call a healthy individual. And Connor, helpful little lap dog that he was, had noticed.

“Come on, Lieutenant!” Connor chirped half a block ahead of him. “Three more miles to go!”

Forget drinking himself into oblivion, Hank thought. For a torture this pronounced, throwing himself into traffic was the only option left.

He threw a hand towards his hair and shoved the sweaty, matted locks out of his face, forcing himself to jog a little faster. Sumo barked encouragingly from Connor’s side, far too happy to be out of the house to bother taking Hank’s side in this torture.

In hindsight, it hadn’t sounded that bad. Getting in shape again, running with a partner. Saying yes to Connor had felt the same as making a New Year’s resolution. Something you did to make yourself feel like you were going to get your life together, but never actually went through with doing. Hank was used to breaking promises to himself. What he wasn’t used to was being held accountable for them.

“Fucking Connor,” he grunted, though wheezed was probably more accurate.

“Did you say something, Lieutenant?”

Hank glowered. “Just that I’m going to have a heart attack and then you’ll be sorry you made me fucking jog ,” he spat. It was so fucking early too, and on a Saturday even. Fucking torture. That’s what this was, and Connor was the sadist responsible.

Connor raised a brow and fucking… Christ, fucking jogged backwards to look at him without slowing the pace. Sumo kept on trotting at his side happily, not even sparing a look at his owner to see the cruelty being dished out on him. “Now, Lieutenant,” Connor began chiding, “you know as well as I do that being healthy is important. I can see from your current vitals that you are in no danger of going into cardiac arrest. Your current heart rate is—”

Hank didn’t want to hear it, so he drowned out the number with a loud, ill-advised groan. It took up breath he didn’t have, but damn if it didn’t feel good to shut Connor up. “Keep running like that and you’ll hit a fuckin’ tree,” he gasped, the heat of his words lost in the effort of getting them out at all. “Trip him, Sumo. It’d serve him right.”

Sumo let out a low bark, tail wagging and tongue lolling, drool dripping from his jowls as he moved a little faster. Connor smiled at the dog and Hank just hung his head. Even his own damn dog had turned on him. Traitors. He was surrounded by traitors.

Connor gave him a look that was every ounce the pedantic, patronizing brat he was. Dark brown eyes rolled, an unnecessary sigh falling past Connor’s lips. His LED cycled yellow, then blue. “We can take a break here,” Connor relented, coming to a stop at the corner. He immediately went down on his knees to pet Sumo, scratching behind his floppy ears as a reward for keeping up. “Please try to regain your strength within the next ten minutes, Lieutenant, else we will fall behind schedule.”

Hank longed to tell him exactly what he thought of that, but there was no way to manage when his entire body screamed at him to sit the fuck down. He wobbled the last few steps and collapsed beside Connor on the cement, bringing a burning hand to his sweaty hair to push it out of his face. He sucked in deep lungfuls of air, and bit by bit his vision seemed to return to normal.

God, he was out of shape. Sumo was pushing forty in dog years and he still seemed to be doing better than him, and all he did all day was lay around the house and shed.

He flinched when something cold touched his cheek. Hank recoiled, nearly losing his balance and toppling backwards. He was spared an embarrassing accident when Connor grabbed him by the shoulder, righting him easily. A small water bottle was in his other hand. Hank frowned at it.

“What’s this?” he rasped, skin prickling uncomfortably as the sweat dried on him.

“Water, Lieutenant,” Connor reported, holding it out to him once more. “Hydration is very important during prolonged physical activity.”

“I know that,” Hank blustered, snatching the water from Connor. He wrestled with the cap and managed to get it off before Connor could offer to help, and then downed it all in one go. The cool water soothed his burning throat. He lowered his hand and gasped for breath, hanging his head while his body throbbed in pain.

“I’ll recycle this,” Connor murmured, kneeling down to take the empty bottle from Hank’s lax hand. “You’ve done remarkably well today, Lieutenant. I’m very proud of you.”

Groaning would be rude. Hank knotted his fingers in his fringe and resisted the urge to be rude.

“Thanks,” he muttered, lifting his head just enough to watch Connor walk Sumo over to the nearest recycling bin. God, Connor’s shorts were short. Where did he even get those? The get up could only be called peppy at best, and the neat white athletic top Connor wore with the shorts just added to the realization that Hank was reaching his threshold for the day.

To be honest, Hank was proud of himself for holding out this long too. Ever since the android revolution, life had become… different. Good different, bad different— the demarcation was too narrow to make out. All Hank knew was that Connor was now a permanent fixture in his life. A partner at the precinct, a partner on his runs. Hell, Connor practically lived with him now despite the fact that the android could make a life of his own if he so chose. Free will and all that.

But nah. Nah, Connor had decided to saddle himself with Hank, and for better or worse, Hank was growing used to it.

Worst of all, he thought as he watched Connor toss the bottle in the bin and lean down to pet Sumo, was that he was beginning to like it too.

He lowered his head when Connor stood back up. The company he liked. These runs, he absolutely hated. Fucking exercise. He should have known by those less than subtle burger comments that Connor wasn’t going to drop the topic of Hank’s abysmal eating habits. The change in diet was one thing, but these torture runs were so much worse. Letting someone care was… Well, it was fucking painful. But Connor was persistent. Persistent and sincere and entirely too good for someone as washed up as him.

Hank blinked as a dark spot formed on the cement. His brow furrowed. That better not be… Oh, fucking Christ. He grimaced as another appeared, and then another. Forcing himself up, Hank looked up at the sky and swore loudly at the black, swollen clouds gathering overhead. Rain began to speckle his face.

Fuck.

“Connor, it’s fucking raining,” he said, swearing louder when the rain just came down harder.

Connor paused at his side and looked up at the sky as well. “It certainly is, Lieutenant,” he reported, completely unbothered by the rapidly worsening weather. Sumo seemed fairly unbothered too. Hank frowned as his dog shook, flecking them both with more water. That was going to be wonderful to deal with once they got home. He resigned himself to the stench of wet dog invading his evening, and then he turned his attention back to Connor.

“So, you gonna call a cab for us or what?”

“A cab?”

Hank raised a brow and then startled a bit when a crack of thunder rumbled in the air. Sumo let out a pitiful whine. He reached out a hand to soothe his dog, sighing under his breath. “Yeah, Connor, a cab. I didn’t exactly bring my phone with me,” he muttered. No damn pockets on these decade old sweats of his. He was a bit surprised they even fit still, but that was neither here nor there.

Instead of an affirmative, Connor’s LED flickered yellow. For some reason the sight sent a wave of dismay through Hank. Police instinct, he figured, and it was rarely wrong. The light flickered blue. Connor smiled.

“I think this is the perfect motivation to help you finish your run, Lieutenant,” Connor recited pleasantly as the rain soaked his carefully styled hair. “Consider this your cool down.”

Hank stared at him as the rain fell harder. “You… Connor, you can’t be fucking serious!” He looked around desperately for any sign of a bus or taxi. The street was empty though, and even if it wasn’t, he knew well enough they’d never let them on with a dog. Fuck.

Connor smiled widely. Hank hated how he looked great even soaking wet. “Let’s get going,” he said brightly, tugging on Sumo’s leash to coax the dog into standing. “First one home wins!”

“What… Wins what!?” Hank shouted as Connor took off without another look back. Hank swore lustily as he watched the damn android jog off in perfect form, Sumo keeping pace easily as they crossed the street. Hank took off after them, knees aching, lungs burning. “Fucking hell, at least pretend I might win, you asshole!”

If he’d thought the run there had been torture, the run home was absolute hell. Hank struggled to keep up with Connor’s inhuman stamina, and with every sheet of rain that came down, it brought with it another puddle to splash through, another lock of hair plastered in his eyes, and another mouthful of rainwater that didn’t taste nearly as nice as the bottle of water had. Eventually Connor noticed and slowed his pace. He even encouraged him every step of the way, but it didn’t hide the fact that Hank was running two and a half miles in the pouring rain, half blind and wholly exhausted.

By the time they reached Hank’s neighborhood, Hank was on his last legs. His legs trembled as he walked the final steps to the door, and he shoved his keys at Connor blindly, letting the android unlock the door so he could sag against the outer wall and wheeze for the breath he couldn’t seem to catch.

“I’m very proud of you, Lieutenant,” Connor said, opening the door with ease. God, it was dark inside, but fuck him if he cared. “We’ve exceeded our target mile goal for the day, and you’ll be pleased to know you burned over five hundred calories overall.”

He’d be pleased to get the fuck inside and collapse on the floor, actually, but Hank didn’t have the energy to say as much. He just pushed past Connor and used the wall for support until he made it to the living room. The curtains hid what little light the street might have offered the room, but muscle memory was one hell of a crutch, both while inebriated or blind. Errantly he heard the sound of Sumo being unleashed, and it was a testament to his own exhaustion that he didn’t have the wherewithal to warn Connor about the imminent mess Sumo was about to make.

“Sumo, no!” Connor yelped like clockwork. Hank managed a wry smile before face planting on the couch, body trembling and muscles aching.

“You better clean that up,” he mumbled, searching blindly for the bottle of beer he’d left half-drunk on the coffee table the night before.

The sound of glass on wood prompted Hank to lift his head. Connor was standing beside him now, the beer bottle in hand. “I’ll clean the living room, starting with this,” he said, lifting it out of reach. “Please hydrate with water, Lieutenant. You’ll find it works better than alcohol.”

Hank scowled, shoving himself upright. “I think you’ll find that I’ve had my fill of water for the day,” he said blandly, gesturing at his soaked sweats. He made a swipe for the beer bottle, but Connor was already moving towards the kitchen. Hank sagged into the couch and groaned. Not loud enough to drown out the sound of Connor pouring the rest of the beer down the sink, though.

Sumo, fresh from shaking the excess water from his coat, meandered through the living room and towards his dog bed. Hank watched him plop down in the cushions and pillow his head on his paws. Lucky bastard. A nap sounded ideal, but Hank had a feeling Connor wasn’t done with him yet. Already he could hear the android on his way back from the kitchen. Hank rolled his head on his shoulder, giving Connor a bitter look that Connor returned with a placid smile.

“I bet you’re proud of yourself,” Hank snipped.

Connor, still dripping water from his hair and clothes, furrowed his brow. “Proud? I suppose I am feeling some measure of contentment at the results we’ve achieved. You did well today. I had fun.”

Hank stared at him in disbelief. “You had fun?” he repeated. God, Connor really was a sadist. “Well, fuck then. Glad you enjoyed torturing me.”

Putting his hands on his hips, Connor… Fuck, he pouted . Hank balked at the sight. It was… Well, it was a cute look on him. Damn.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Hank relented when Connor’s stupid pout didn’t. He held up his hands and looked lower, hiding from Connor’s gaze. “It wasn’t torture. But God, Connor. I’m old. You can’t work me like a dog and expect me to like it.”

A bead of water rolled down Connor’s cheek, down his neck to disappear in the collar of his shirt. In the quiet darkness of the house, the storm outside seemed distant. Hank fidgeted a little and put a hand on the back of the couch, pushing himself onto his feet. He was going to get sick if he sat around in these clothes all night getting guilt tripped by a doe-eyed android.

“Do you have a change of clothes here?” Hank muttered, sighing when he heard Connor follow him towards the bathroom. Just like a poodle. The thick cotton of his sweatshirt stuck to his chest uncomfortably, the sweatpants sticking and sagging from the weight of the water it’d collected along the way. “Fuck, this is a mess,” he grunted, flicking on the light. “Can’t believe you made me run home in that monsoon.”

“It isn’t a monsoon, Lieutenant,” Connor corrected helpfully in the doorway. “And I didn’t consider the need for another outfit.”

Hank pulled a couple towels from the closet and threw one to Connor. The other he used to dry his matted hair. “I bet you didn’t,” he sighed, looking at Connor in the light. Which was a mistake, he realized a little too late to do him any good.

The white of Connor’s shirt hadn’t survived the deluge. It clung tightly to his body, see-through and sheer. The rough towel mussed his dark hair as he perfunctorily began to dry himself, but the lifting of his arms only made his shirt cling all the closer to his trim chest. Hank saw Connor’s mouth move, off-handedly heard his voice rattle off another bout of observations, suggestions, and nit-picky thoughts on the water, Hank’s health, and the carpet’s cleanliness. He knew Connor thought he was listening. But Hank wasn’t. He wasn’t listening at all.

All he could really focus on was the way the light showed the pale pink tease of Connor’s nipples hidden just beneath the thin layer of fabric.

It was a stupid thing to get caught on. Infinitely stupid. Of course Connor was anatomically correct. He was an advanced prototype, the best Cyberlife had to offer. No expense had been spared in making him the epitome of artificial life. From the way his damp hair curled as it dried to the humanistic reaction of cool air against biomechanically warmed skin, Connor was perfect. Hank wasn’t sure why he had expected any different.

He really wasn’t sure why it made his blood burn either.

“Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?”

Hank jerked his head up and looked Connor in the eye. Shit. Connor had that curious expression again, his eyes no doubt scanning Hank to figure out what had him out of sorts this time. Would he even be able to notice? Would the idea that maybe he was the distraction phase those pre-conceived program parameters of his?

“No, Connor,” Hank said with a sigh, forcing himself to hobble out of the bathroom. “I’m just peachy keen.”

Connor moved back a few steps, rainwater still trickling down his cheeks and shirt. He cocked his head to the side the same way Sumo did when he heard something strange in the distance. “Are you sure?” Connor probed, because of fucking course he would. “My readings tell me you are exhibiting symptoms atypical with with lethargy or inebriation. Was our run too long for you today? Should I reconfigure our future outings with this reaction in mind—”

“Would you just stop analyzing things for two seconds?” Hank cut in, holding up his hands in surrender. “Jesus Christ, it’s not your fault, okay?”

Connor blinked. He almost looked surprised. He folded his hands in front of him, his fingertips meeting to form a steeple against his sternum. An odd tick, Hank had noticed. Connor had a lot of them once you really started to look for them.

“I wasn’t implying it was my fault,” Connor said quietly. His warm brown eyes turned towards Hank, a sheepish look taking root on his young face. “But regardless, I am… concerned, I suppose, as to the cause.”

Hank gave in to the urge to bury his face in his hands. This was just… Fuck, he was too innocent looking. Those wide eyes, the soft looking lips. He stared at Hank like he hung the sun and stars, and here Hank was, projecting. Again.

Something brushed his shoulder and Hank couldn’t help but jump. He flinched away and moved his hands, but it was just Connor. It was always just Connor, standing a little too close, probing when Hank was at his worst. Standing at his side with worry in his eyes, staring up at him, and… Fuck.

He was too old for this. He was too old and broken and fucked up to deserve this, but Connor made it too easy to want it anyway.

“Lieutenant?”

Hank cleared his throat and averted his eyes. His face felt a bit warm. “It’s nothing, Connor,” he mumbled. “Just drop it.”

But Connor just cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. He assessed Hank as if he were a crime scene. Well, sort of like a crime scene. If Connor tried to fucking lick him, they’d have a bigger problem on their hands than just whatever it was happening right now. Hank took a step back and fiddled with the towel he held, wiping his already dry face for want of something to do. He was beginning to feel a big chilly now that the heat of the run had ebbed away. He’d need to get some new clothes for Connor too.

“Are you perhaps feeling desire, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, aplomb nothing.

Hank dropped the towel. He couldn’t quite find the words to answer that. Connor, of course, took that as invitation to go on.

“Your pupils dilated when you looked at me, and your core temperature increased slightly as well,” he rattled off, as cool as a cucumber. He even bent down to pick up the towel, folding it over his arm as he continued on. “Perspiration began despite the lack of physical exertion. Subconscious body language cues of your lips, hands, eye movements all point to a sense of sexual desire. Am I wrong?”

For some reason it felt like being on trial. If he got defensive, it’d just make him look even more guilty. Hank swallowed and avoided Connor’s gaze.

“How long have you wanted to have sex with me?”

Hank nearly choked. On his spit, on his shock, on something undefinable. He looked at Connor with wide eyes, hating how the damn android didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed asking a question like that. “Fucking hell, Connor,” Hank muttered, crossing his arms to glare at anything that wasn’t Connor. “Where do you get off saying shit like that?”

That damn yellow glow again. Connor frowned. “Am I…” He paused, bringing his hand to his chin in a startlingly human gesture. He looked down at his feet. “Am I misunderstanding something? You’re exhibiting signs of attraction, and since I am the only one here, it must be in regards to myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to- to fuckin’ say it out loud!” Hank shot. God, he sounded so defensive. Aw fuck, and now Connor was looking at him with that kicked puppy look of his. “Jesus, just… Goddamnit Connor. Just ignore me. I’m not gonna sit here and project on you—”

“Project?” Connor interjected. Now he was staring harder. He took a step closer. “Lieutenant, do you believe I don’t reciprocate? Is that the source of your discomfort with this subject?”

Hank tried not to look at Connor like he was stupid. He probably failed in that, but what else was new? “You’re a fuckin’ android, Connor,” he said, speaking slowly to make sure he understood. “I’m not the kind of sleazebag who’d go around humping the leg of something that doesn’t feel the same.”

Connor curled his hand into a loose fist, holding it to his chin as he analyzed Hank from head to toe. “And what evidence do you have that states I don’t feel the same?” he wondered, processing it the way he might a case.

It was getting increasingly harder to keep his incredulity in check. “Are you really going to stand there and tell me that you— you, what? Want to fuck me?” Hank’s head spun at the thought alone.

A blink. The smallest glimpse of a yellow light. “Yes,” Connor said, lowering his hand. “Yes, I would stand here and tell you that.”

Hank gaped.

Connor smiled. He walked a little closer. “Does that surprise you?” he asked.

Does that… “Yes, it fucking surprises me,” Hank shot, taking a step back until he was firmly in the living room once more. God, he needed a drink. What the hell was this day turning into? He rubbed at his temples and glanced at Connor’s eager little smile. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I think I’m saying that I’d like to have sex with you.”

Hank turned on his heel and made a beeline for the kitchen. Specifically, for the bottle of whiskey he kept hidden behind the cereal where Connor hadn’t quite noticed yet. “You need to run a diagnostic test,” he muttered. Some bug in the program, obviously. That’s all this was—

“Diagnostics ran. There is no flaw in my system,” Connor recited helpfully, following him into the kitchen. Hank opened up a cabinet and shoved the boxes of cereal out of the way, searching for that elusive bottle. He gritted his teeth and went up on his toes when he didn’t feel cool glass. “If you are looking for your whiskey, I disposed of it last week.”

Hank lowered himself woodenly, turning with a glare. He closed the cabinet door a little harder than was strictly necessary. “If you expect me to have this conversation while sober, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Really?” Connor asked. “Like what?”

Like what? “Like… Like… Don’t sass me right now, Connor,” Hank grimaced, giving up. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Because you’re in the mood to be intimate with me,” the android offered up. “I understand.”

Hank stared at the ceiling, begging for God—any God at all— to end him here and now. “This cannot be happening,” he said. “You work me within an inch of my life, make me run home in the goddamn rain, and now you tell me you want to have sex with me.”

Connor came a little bit closer. The glow of his LED casted a cool blue light on Hank’s chest. “In my defense,” he murmured, “you did express your interest first.”

“Why?” Hank scowled, only to grimace a second later when Connor put his hands on his chest. “Why on earth would you want me of all people?” A whiskey-soaked mess of a man whose closest friend was a dog because no one else would put up with him. Sure, it wasn’t as if Connor had other acquaintances. But still.

Yellow light. Processing. Then blue.

Dark brown eyes sought out Hank’s, and Hank was too weak to avoid them. With him this close, Hank could just about count each eyelash, each little artificial blemish speckling his skin like rain. “Because I like you, Lieutenant,” Connor said simply, earnestly. “Do I need more of a reason than that?”

Yes. Yes, he needed more of a reason than that. He needed a thousand reasons, but even if he had them, Hank was sure he’d have a rebuttal for each and every one of them. And when it came down to it… When it came down to it, Hank was tired. He was cold and tired and aching and weak, and Connor was so close. He was close enough to make it easy to give in.

So, Hank gave in.

Connor didn’t have time to process things. Or maybe he did. Hank wouldn’t pretend to understand how his mind worked. All he knew was Connor allowed the kiss to happen. Hank found Connor’s hips and held them tight, tugging him closer, lifting him just a little until he went onto his toes. Soft lips moved against his own awkwardly. Connor kept his eyes open. Hank closed his own for the sake of his own sanity.

This was probably Connor’s first kiss. No, it definitely was. Connor wasn’t good at this. His lips moved gracelessly, his jaw locked and his head slightly off angle. Their noses bumped and Hank broke the kiss with a bit of a laugh. Connor stared at him curiously but smiled back after a moment’s pause. Weird. It was a weird kiss with a weird android and Connor through and through.

“Does… Does this mean we’re going to have sex?” Connor asked carefully.

Hank swallowed. “Is that really what you want?”

There was no need to process anything. Connor simply nodded his head, his hands closing into fists against Hank’s chest.

“Go wait in the bedroom,” Hank breathed, sweating already. “I gotta… I gotta do something first. Okay?”

Connor lowered himself back onto the floor. Hank’s knees went a little weak when that pink slip of a tongue peeked out to wet soft lips. Lips he knew were far softer than they had any right to be. “Alright, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Hank,” he corrected, shaking his head. He cleared his throat a little. His voice sounded so low. “It’s… It’s Hank when we’re like this.”

That earned him a smile. “Alright, Hank,” Connor whispered, pulling away to head to the bedroom. Hank braced himself on the counter and watched him until he slipped through the door. Out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, reaching blindly for a glass beside the sink. No booze, so water would have to do. Fuck. He filled the glass and downed the water in one gulp, wiping his chin when it trickled into his beard. This was… This was insane, right? Fucking insane. But God, if this wasn’t a dream…

He wanted it. He wanted this so bad he could scream.

His hand shook as he set the glass on the counter. Connor was waiting for him. He… He needed to go in there.

Despite the water, Hank’s mouth felt so very dry. He closed his eyes and pushed away from the counter, combing his hair out of his face. It was now or never, he thought, looking towards the bedroom. Connor hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. What was he doing in there? His cheeks colored at what his imagination conjured up.

Now or never , he mouthed, forcing himself to take the first step. It was just Connor. Gorgeous, weird Connor. There was nothing there that could surprise him more than hearing the android say he wanted this. Everything from here on out would be a cakewalk compared to that.

When Hank moved finally entered the bedroom, he found…

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, staring at how Connor was sitting on the bed. Prim and proper and acting like they were at the office, Connor sat with his spine straight and his hands neatly resting on his thighs. The android blinked owlishly at him, cocking his head curiously. Hank dragged a hand down his face. It was like Connor was waiting to be evaluated.

“I am… I am waiting for you to join me, Lieu— Hank,” he said, only stumbling a little as he backtracked the title. Connor’s hands curled into fists against his thighs. The shorts he wore rode up a little, baring another inch or two of flawless pale skin. “Am I supposed to be doing something else right now?”

The LED flickered yellow, prompting Connor to stand up before Hank could say something. His hands immediately went to his waistband. In a quick, decisive move, he pulled down his shorts and stepped out of them, his long, lithe legs nearly glowing in the low light of the room. Tight black briefs covered his lower half, nondescript and unassuming. Hank’s brain stuttered at the sight. If he had his own LED, he had to wager it’d be stuck on yellow and spiralling for traction he couldn’t find.

It was when those pale hands moved to grip the bottom hem of Connor’s shirt that Hank finally found his voice. He crossed the room in a flash and grabbed Connor by the wrists. “Hey, wait a minute,” he ordered, biting his lip hard to keep from doing something stupid. “What are you doing now?”

Connor looked at his trapped hands and then up at Hank. “Undressing,” he said slowly. “I accessed records on human copulation, and that is what people do when preparing for intercourse, right?”

“Wh- That’s—”

“Perhaps undressing isn’t absolutely necessary,” Connor carried on, closely analyzing the grip Hank had on his wrists. “My knowledge on this topic is rather lacking, but basic logic would dictate that only partial nudity is required for successful copulation. But Hank, wouldn’t that increase the likelihood of making a mess?”

Fucking Connor half clothed was an idea that Hank had never entertained before, but damn if he wasn’t thinking about it now. Fuck. It’d be so dirty like that. Hank bit down on his lip even harder and forced himself to shake his head. “You need to cool it with the analysis,” he said, using his grip on Connor to push him down onto the bed. “Just… slow down, alright? There’s no rush. I…”

Hank felt his face burn hot. Connor stared up at him, content to let him hold him in place despite the fact that he could break the hold easily if he so chose.

“I want to undress you myself,” Hank mumbled, staring at Connor’s shirt to avoid seeing how the android took that. “This is your first time, right? I’m not going to rush it.”

Connor sat without a word. His hands stayed in Hank’s until he realized he needed to let go. “There’s no need to be so considerate,” Connor said quietly, looking at Hank with wide, curious eyes. “It’s impossible for you to hurt me by moving too fast.”

Hank sighed and gave in to the urge to rub the back of his neck. “Just… Just scoot up a bit more, alright? It’s not about hurting you. It’s about doing this properly.” Fuck, did he even have lube left? He rarely kept that around anymore. A quick jerk off in the shower was all he managed to get by with these days. He glanced at Connor as the android seated himself in the center of the bed. He rested his hands on his bare thighs, and that was somehow worse than before.

“I don’t mind either way,” Connor said matter-of-factly. “I just want to have sex with you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Hank groaned, “Goddammit, Connor.”

When it came down to it... that’s all Hank wanted too. He couldn’t begrudge Connor for being so blunt about it. Hank fisted his hair in a hand, sucked in a deep breath, and climbed onto the bed, blood too hot to fret about stupid shit anymore. Connor moved his hands and leaned back a little, parting his thighs as if he expected it to happen right away. It wouldn’t, though. They were going to take their damn time with this, Connor’s assertions be damned.

Kissing seemed like the best way to get things going. Hank hooked his hand around Connor’s head, tugging him forward until they were close enough to share breath. Connor stared into his eyes. His LED flashed. Processing. Processing. Hank closed the distance between them, kissing him before he could catch up. And this time, Connor did it right. His eyes slowly closed and he leaned into Hank’s touch. Soft lips, a warm tongue. Overwhelmingly human but for the taste. Connor tasted like nothing. Like a blank canvas waiting for a brush, and when he parted his lips, Hank deepened it, content to be that brush for as long as he could get away with it.

As they kissed, Hank let his other hand wander. Down Connor’s shoulder to his waist, and then lower still. He shifted a little and squeezed Connor’s impossibly smooth thigh. God, his body was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He stroked the patch of skin between Connor’s hip and groin, thumb catching on the edge of his briefs. Young and fit and still soft in a way he never thought an android could be. Hank opened his eyes and broke the kiss, catching his breath against Connor’s cheek. Fuck, he was hard already. It’d been too long since he’d last done something like this. He glanced down, eager to see Connor’s reaction.

Instead, Hank froze.

“Hank?” Connor breathed, his voice tickling Hank’s cheek. “Is something wrong?”

Is something wrong. Well, that really depended, didn’t it? “Is this… I mean, like…” Hank grimaced, staring at Connor’s blank expression. Fuck, this was awkward.

Connor just cocked his head. It looked far too innocent, clashing with his half debauched state in the worst way. “Is this what, Hank?” he wondered.

Fuck. Hank brought his hand to Connor’s cheek, warring with himself on the sleaziness of it all. “Is this like… doing anything for you?” he got out reluctantly. He tried not to stare at Connor’s crotch, but with the shorts gone and his tight black briefs the only thing left on his lower half, he felt like it was a more honest judge than Connor’s face.

“You’re asking if your touch makes me experience sexual desire,” Connor gathered evenly, leaning into Hank’s hand.

“Yes, Connor,” Hank sighed. He gave the android an unimpressed look. “I’m asking if this makes you feel good.”

Dark brown eyes met his own, the LED on Connor’s forehead flashing yellow for a few seconds. “It’s not one of my primary functions,” he said, no doubt only just checking for himself. “But I seem to possess the capability. I am not as equipped as models intended for sexual use. Would you like me to download new protocols for this? I can cycle through various personas until we find one that suits you.”

Hank was shaking his head before he really processed what Connor was offering. He let go of Connor’s cheek to hold his shoulder instead. “Absolutely not,” he muttered, feeling like a skeevy old man. Connor really was a virgin, more so in a sense since he didn’t even know how to act without additional software.

Connor blinked at him, pressing his hands together. His long, slender fingers were beautiful, really. Not at all like Hank’s rough ones. “Then… how would you like me to act, Hank?” the android asked.

“Shit, Connor, I want you to act like you,” he said exasperatedly. He looked at Connor and rubbed at his eyes, wondering if this had been a bad idea. “I want you to feel good. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Another whirl of yellow. It took a few seconds for it to turn blue. Connor blinked and then nodded. “I’ve turned on my pleasure sensors,” he reported with a chipper smile. “I have very limited experience to offer you, so please let me know if I’m lacking in any way.”

It was Hank’s turn to blink blankly. He may have even gaped a little. “You… You what?”

Connor reached for Hank’s fallen hand and brought it back to his cheek. This time, instead of just staring at him, he leaned into Hank’s touch, the ghost of a gasp issuing from his parted lips. When Hank stroked his cheekbone with an errant swipe of his thumb… Connor closed his eyes.

“I turned on my pleasure sensors,” he repeated, quieter now. “I’ll feel and experience your touch differently now.”

Hank swallowed the knee jerk urge to ask Differently how? Asking was a cop out. He leaned in a little closer and guided Connor down, cradling his head in his hand until it rested against a pillow. A bit of a blush teased Connor’s high cheekbones. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

“Connor?”

“Yes, Hank?” Connor whispered.

“Let me know if you don’t like something I do,” Hank said, bringing a hand to the hem of Connor’s damp shirt. He let the tips of his fingers trail along Connor’s hip, and he shivered when Connor fidgeted in response. “Alright?”

Connor closed his fingers around a handful of bedding, nodding his head. “Alright, Hank.”

It was a bit… unsettling? Yeah, unsettling, having to do this with Connor watching him so intently. His big, curious eyes never left Hank for an instant. Hank tried to ignore the way it made him sweat, and instead set himself to testing the waters. It’d been a very long time since he’d last fallen into bed with someone. Even longer still since he had to be the one to guide a virgin through the pitfalls and pleasures of sex. There was a lot of pressure to do it right. Doubly so given what Connor was, what he was offering when he looked at Hank and told him he wanted him. This had to be good. It had to be perfect.

Hank started slow. Connor was already laying down, and if he’d never had his pleasure sensors on before, it’d be best to see how he took a little fondling before they got to anything more intense. He reached out a hand and slipped it beneath Connor’s shirt. He pulled back a little when Connor flinched at the touch.

“Everything okay?” he asked, wondering if this was in fact the worst idea he’d ever had.

Connor, though, was quick to shake his head no. “I’m fine,” he whispered, relaxing again when Hank began tugging his shirt higher. “The change in sensitivity is something I am still becoming accustomed to. Please, pay me no mind.”

And sensitive he was. Hank watched Connor fidget against the sheets as his skin was bared to the open air. His flat stomach, his cute navel, higher and higher until the teasing slip of his chest peeked past the damp shirt. Hank’s eyes roved over all of it, drinking in the sight of a perfect body made real. Connor was quiet. Hank… He wanted to change that.

He started by lowering his head to kiss everything he saw.

Connor’s skin tasted like rain. Against Hank’s lips it felt just as soft and warm as any human’s might, perfect in every way. Hank laid himself out along Connor’s body, his hands roving beneath the damp shirt, his lips and tongue exploring the chest that had been teasing him since they got home. Connor wiggled and arched. The scrape of Hank’s beard against his skin earned him a low, broken keen.

“Pleasure sensors, huh?” Hank mused, kissing a nipple too cute to leave alone. “How much can you feel?”

The LED spiraled yellow. It took Connor a few seconds to find his voice. “My sensors correlate with a typical human’s erogenous zones,” he rattled off, closing his eyes to gasp when Hank rolled the pad of a thumb over a nipple. “Stimulation of a sexual nature sends impulses to my neural networks to simulate endorphin production.”

“In English, Connor.” Hank pushed the damp shirt higher, rucking it under Connor’s arms until his entire chest was on display. He glanced down. Something was tenting those tight little briefs of his now. He reached out with his fingertips to touch. Connor whimpered pitifully.

“I feel what you are doing to me,” he rushed, voice anything but unaffected. His thighs twitched as Hank traced the shape of his cock through the fabric of his briefs. What did it look like? How lifelike was it? “I… Hank, please. Is this teasing?”

“Is this teasing,” Hank huffed, smiling despite himself. He gave Connor a humored look and hooked his fingers in the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down his thighs. Connor lifted his hips helpfully, almost eager to be rid of them, and that left the android naked but for his the shirt under his arms and the artificial blush tinging his cheeks red. Hank let out a low whistle.

Cyberlife had outdone themselves with Connor. Hank had limited experience with androids, sure, and even that job at the Eden Club failed to really give him much indication as to how realistic android anatomy normally was, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Connor was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Models couldn’t boast of this kind of perfection. Hank drew his hand down Connor’s hip, ghosting his knuckles along a slender thigh. Connor’s cock was already erect. Flushed slightly at the tip, it looked as picture perfect as the rest of him.

A modest five or so inches long and slender like the rest of him. His balls were tight and so completely unnecessary given what Connor was, but accuracy was important in these things, Hank had to think.

When he took Connor in hand and got a choked little yelp in return, it hit Hank that they were really about to do this. This. Sex. With Connor. He never thought he’d see the day where he wished he’d paid more attention to the break room talk that always rose up after long weekends. The beat cops weren’t strangers to the clubs. As nauseating as it had been, it might have proven education at a time like this. Trailing his fingers along the length, Hank let out a huff. “Can you… come?” he asked, glancing up at Connor’s dazed face. God, he looked so good like this.

“Y-Yes,” the android said, voice shaking slightly as his hips sought more from his hand in little abortive thrusts. “I’m able to ejaculate once optimal stimulation is achieved.”

Hank gripped Connor fully in his palm and gave him a few pointed strokes. “If you can still manage to say the word “ejaculate,” I’m obviously not touching you enough.” He shook his head in disbelief, his expression softening when Connor let out a broken moan. The flushed tip of his cock was beginning to bead with something that looked an awful lot like precum. “What is this stuff?”

Connor forced his eyes to open so he could look down at what Hank meant. He didn’t manage to look for long; his eyes shut tightly a second later, his head rolling back on the pillow to face the ceiling instead. “A composite mixture of biodegradable lubricant and non-toxic binder to achieve a c-consistency synon- ngh , synonymous with human e-e-ejac-” He stammered on the word, letting out a gasp that sounded like something from a porno. “H-Hank, I c-can’t focus like this.”

Hank, who had been speeding up the movements of his hand the longer Connor made his explanation, just grinned. “That’s the point, Connor,” he said, leaning down to chase Connor’s lips with his own. He found them easily enough, kissing Connor until he was sure the android was nearing the point of no return. He could feel how tight his body was wound. The LED cycled through a burst of yellow to blue to yellow again. He pulled away and slowed his hand when it settled on yellow fully.

It took a few moments for Connor to open his eyes. A smattering of heartbeats in the darkness. His fingers clutched the sheets beneath him, and when he finally looked at Hank, it was with awe in his dark, dark eyes. His cock twitched against his thigh, flushed like the real thing.

“That felt… That felt nice,” he breathed, his voice just a whisper. Wide eyed and innocent, he looked to Hank for more.

“It’ll get better,” Hank promised him, leaning back to rest on his haunches. “Take off your shirt. It’ll just get in the way.”

Sitting up, Connor shucked his shirt and held it a little awkwardly in his hand. “Are you going to undress, too?” he asked, setting his shirt aside when he realized it might get ruined if he kept it near. Naked and flushed, his gaze sent Hank’s heart pounding harder than the run had.

The question didn’t help things in the slightest. Hank stiffened a little and glanced down at the damp sweats he still wore. His dick was about as hard as sheetrock, and with all the excitement going on, he was sweating beneath the thick layers. He rested a hand on his stomach and winced. He hadn’t been jogging nearly enough to make him want to be on display with someone like Connor in the room.

“Nah,” he said, looking up. “You don’t want to see all this.”

Connor cocked his head a little, leaning back on his hands with his legs spread just enough to be salacious. “What makes you think that?” he wondered quietly, LED light casting his body in a pale blue glow. All it accomplished was showcasing just how beautiful he was. Hank felt like glancing down would be enough to answer the question for him. But, knowing Connor, he wouldn’t grasp the obvious quite so easily.

Hank shifted on the bed, his fingers worrying at the ratty hem of his sweater. Some old police academy thing, worn out in places and only good for getting stained or ripped or sweated on. He tried to ignore the obvious parallels. “Shit, Connor, because why would you?” He let go of his shirt to rub at his eyes. If there was one way to kill a hard on, this might be it. “I’m not exactly a spring chicken.”

“No,” Connor said, still staring, still hard, still unbearably attractive. “You’re Hank.”

“Yeah, and Hank is a… a… What are you doing?” The question nearly didn’t make it out. Hank swallowed on nothing, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as Connor laid back on the bed and spread his legs. A graceful hand moved between them, brushing past his hard cock to probe at his entrance carefully.

“I want to have sex with you,” Connor said with a determined air. His brow was even furrowed in concentration. “I’d like it if you took your clothes off. Either way, I’m going to have sex with you. Because I want you.”

“...Goddammit, Connor,” Hank muttered, closing his eyes before he lost control entirely. With a deep breath and another muffled swear, Hank yanked off his shirt and tossed it off the bed. The cool air of the bedroom prickled his skin uncomfortably, but the look Connor gave him warmed him back up immediately. It was a struggle to meet Connor’s gaze head on. He managed somehow, but only because he had to. “At least let me do that.”

Connor moved his hand away immediately. A ruse. His smile was bright enough to soothe away Hank’s frustration, though. “Of course, Hank,” he murmured, lifting a hand to Hank’s chest. His fingers were warm when they touched, gentle as they assessed his soft flesh and the hair thick along his sternum. They paused on a scar here or there. Bullet wounds and surgeries over the years had left their mark. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to ask about them. But only for a moment.

Dark eyes met Hank’s. “Please remove your pants, Hank,” Connor requested, letting his hand fall to his side. “Then we can begin.”

This was fucking unreal. All of it. Every last bit. Hank swallowed roughly, letting out a hiss of a sigh as he yanked the sweats off his hips and down his legs. It was graceless and rough; they tangled around his ankles a bit and Hank grunted as he kicked at them until they fell to the floor. The cool air raised the hair on his thighs and arms, but the precise, focused look in Connor’s watchful eyes warmed him back up again before it could do more than make Hank shiver.

“Happy now?” Hank asked.

Connor nodded. “Very. Now,” he said, looking between Hank’s legs and then his own. “How do we proceed?”

Proceed? That was an awfully polite way to put it. Hank raised a brow and leaned a little closer, shuffling until he was situated between Connor’s parted legs. He ran a hand down the length of a thigh, squeezing when Connor’s eyelids fluttered from the touch. He kept a careful eye on Connor’s expression as he moved his hand higher, and then higher, and then higher still. He gave Connor’s cock a pump before moving his fingers lower to prod at the silken skin of his entrance.

“I don’t think I can fuck you,” Hank said reluctantly, surprising himself a little at how husky his voice had become.

“And… And why is that, Hank?” Connor’s cheeks were flushed a dark pink, his hips making little twitches as if seeking out Hank’s fingers. “I believe I’ve been adamant about my desire. Are you having doubts?”

Hank rolled his eyes, punishing Connor a little with a hard swipe of his thumb along the underpart of his balls. Connor let out a startled huff, his body locking up tight. “No, you fucking brat,” he muttered, apologizing with a gentle stroke of his thumb that had Connor shivering. “I don’t have any lube. I’m not about to fuck you dry, so…”

Connor’s LED went yellow. It should have been the clue Hank needed to know something was up, but he was probably a shittier detective than he thought since he couldn’t anticipate feeling something wet brush his fingers in the next instant.

“What the fuck!” he rushed, jerking back his hand. Hank looked from Connor face to between his legs, then to his hand. His fingers were damp with something shiny. Connor’s entrance was likewise slick. “What the fuck is this, Connor?”

“You said we required lubricant,” the android said as innocently as anything. “I’ve merely provided it myself since you were lacking your own.”

“You… you what?” Hank slowly brought his hand back down to touch what had only just seconds before been warm, dry skin. It was still plenty warm, but a cursory probe told him that Connor had coated his insides with whatever this gel stuff was. Hank bit his lip when a rush of warmth passed over him. Fuck. Fuck, that was… That was really fucking hot, wasn’t it?

Shit, Connor was talking again.

“-and it’s merely a collection of lubricants used to better my movements internally,” he said, knee deep in an explanation of what he must have thought Hank meant by his exclamation. “It’s non-toxic and readily available. Though not its intended purpose, it should suit us for the moment until you can procure lubricant of a better quality for next time.”

“N-Next time?” Hank laughed, propping himself over Connor with a hand while his other one gave in to the urge to see how tight an android was. “Haven’t even had me once and you already think you’re gonna want to go again.” The first finger went inside easily, Connor’s walls silky smooth and slicked perfectly as if he’d already been fingered for an hour before this moment. God, if that wasn’t hot. Fuck.

“I like you, Hank.” Connor shivered and spread his thighs a little wider, glancing at Hank through his lashes. “There’s no need for you to worry about preparation. You can’t hurt me.”

Hank pressed another finger in alongside the first, knowing it was true. Connor opened up beautifully for him, his head falling back as he gasped and shifted impatiently. Every inch of him was on display like this, every insufferably perfect inch. He twitched and arched and sought out the slow, probing fingers. “If you think I’m going to take a shortcut and miss this show, you’ve got another thing coming, Connor.”

Connor’s cock twitched at the words. A bead of his precum teased the head of it when Hank tried scissoring his fingers, and he had to clap a hand down on Connor’s hip to keep him flat against the bed. Hank leaned closer, kissing Connor’s stomach, then his ribs, then up his chest and neck until he reached his soft lips. A third finger was accepted just as eagerly as the two before it. Hank kissed Connor through his shuddering gasp, savoring everything about this moment.

He kept up the torment for another few minutes. Every time Connor tried to move things along or rush him, Hank would hold him down and kiss him until he settled. A heady thing, really. Connor was stronger than him. Hank could feel it in the moments when he lost a little control and bucked too hard or gripped too tight to his shoulders. He was so strong but he still let Hank hold him down, let him hold him still for another kiss that didn’t seem to satisfy him like it had before.

Hank pulled his fingers free and coated his own cock with the slick covering his hand. Connor stared at him with dark, glassy eyes. “You sure you want this?” Hank asked, because he had to fucking ask a thousand times more before he even came close to believing it was true. “We can still stop if you don’t.”

“Shut up, Hank,” Connor gasped, lifting his hips for the stimulation he wasn’t getting. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

“Oh, so now you’re gonna call it fucking?” Hank gripped himself at the base to hold his dick steady, hooking one of Connor’s thighs over his hip to give himself a little more room to work. The head of his cock teased the soft, wet pink of Connor’s entrance. God, was he really going to do this? Connor looked at him with his dark eyes, so young and gorgeous. He could have anyone he wanted but… but he wanted Hank. This was such a fucking clusterfuck, but Hank knew his hesitation wouldn’t be put up with for long.

“Hank, please—”

“Fuck, Connor, I’m going,” he grunted, his cheeks burning a little as he leaned himself over Connor and sought out his hand to hold. Sentimental of him, but he couldn’t help it. He glanced at Connor’s face and forced himself not to look away. He moved his hips forward. He pressed inside without another backwards glance.

Connor’s hand fit perfectly with his own. Sappy of him to notice, but he couldn’t quite help it either. Their fingers interlocked as their bodies came together, the warm, soft tightness so good that Hank had to think he was dreaming. Everything about this moment was perfect; from Connor’s body to the tight little expression he wore on his face, it all felt like something not meant for him. Dark brown eyes stared at him like he were God. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, Connor let out a shiver and a broken moan, his body opening like a flower in the morning light to embrace Hank entirely.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Hank wheezed, tightening his grip on Connor’s slender hands. If Connor had been a human, he might worry about hurting him. But Connor wasn’t human, and Hank’s grip wasn’t strong enough to bruise artificial flesh. “Jesus Christ, Connor. You’re so fucking tight.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor breathed, biting down on his lip in an overwhelmingly human gesture. His cock nearly weeped between their bodies. “I can… I can loosen the—”

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” Hank snarled, pinning Connor to the bed as if that would be enough to keep him from changing anything about this moment. “I don’t want you doing anything but enjoying yourself, you hear me?”

A whimper. Connor closed his eyes and turned his face towards the pillows, nodding his head to show he heard. Hank buried his face in Connor’s neck, licking and biting and sucking marks that wouldn’t take. Fuck, he was so tight. Virgin tight even though he showed no sign of the pain that sort of thing usually brought with it. Connor squeezed Hank’s hands, moaning softly from the kissing. Hank rolled his hips forward, coaxing that moan a little louder.

“How’s it feel?” Hank asked, trailing kisses along Connor’s neck, his cheek. God, it was so hard to take things slow when it felt this fucking good. Connor’s cock was trapped between their stomachs. Hank pressed them closer together, rocking into him with long, smooth thrusts. “You feel good? You like it?”

Connor furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, wiggling this way and that and going ramrod straight when Hank fucked into him hard enough to scoot him an inch up the bed. “H-Hank,” he stammered, shivering from head to toe. “It’s… It’s a lot. I can’t- I’m not- I like it,” he choked, meeting Hank’s gaze with a wanton look on his face. “I like it. Feels good. I can’t think. More.”

What sort of pleasure was he feeling? Did it feel anything like how Hank felt? His blood on fire and his hands sweating, that punch-you-in-the-gut kind of light-headedness that only came from wanting more of another’s body? Hank shifted his knees on the sheets and rolled his hips forward, harder and faster, smooth but still forceful, chasing that broken little keen of Connor’s with a kiss too deep too keep up for long. Hank struggled to catch his breath when Connor didn’t need to breathe. The bed squeaked and creaked, thudding against the wall.

“Hank,” Connor wheezed. “Ha-Hank, I’m—”

Connor’s entire body seized up. His hands tightened on Hank’s and his spine arched like a bow. The LED on his temple flared yellow, yellow, red for a split second— He’s coming , Hank realized. The thought was all it took to do him in as well.

It was too soon. Embarrassingly soon, really, but Hank comforted himself with the thought that Connor still came first. Despite wanting to watch, to see what Connor’s orgasm looked like up close, Hank could only groan and close his eyes. Stupid of him to miss it, but keeping cool right now was too much to expect after an evening like this. Hank squeezed Connor’s hands and fucked into him like his life depended on it, thrusting as the white overtook his vision and the pleasure wiped out everything else. His body ached and his face hid itself in Connor’s hair.

Too good. It all felt too good.

A less enlightened man might say an orgasm was an orgasm no matter where it came from. Hank, on the other hand, felt this one hit him right between the eyes. It was Connor , he thought, the only thought in fact that managed to permeate the din of his sluggish mind. Connor in his bed, Connor he was inside, Connor who was coming in thick bursts against his stomach, the mess smearing them both.

Hank groaned at the warmth of it, the stickiness. Connor would be an utter mess once this was done; Hank hadn’t had the foresight to pull out before coming inside him. But somehow he managed the foresight to pull out and roll off of Connor before he collapsed on top of him completely. Somehow. Hank collapsed onto the bed beside Connor’s body in a limp pile of too-hot flesh and sweaty bliss. Connor followed him as he went, clinging to his hand as if he didn’t want to be apart from him just yet. Hank hid behind his free hand, fisting his fingers in his sweaty hair.

God. God-fucking-damn.

It took Hank an embarrassingly long time to catch his breath. Fuck, he really was out of shape. He let his arm slide off his face and flop on the bed beside him, the cool air slowly drying the sweat on his brow as his body winded back down. It’d been way too long since he’d last gotten off like that. Every nerve in his body felt like it was singing, that bone-deep weariness a long forgotten friend in the wake of all the nights he’d spent alone. Hank turned his head and looked to see how Connor was faring. It made him a little nervous when the android got too quiet.

He shouldn’t have worried. Connor was laying on his side, pink-cheeked and smiling that weird little smile of his. Despite being covered in cum and that… that artificial lube and stuff, he seemed infinitely happy. Happy and preoccupied, Hank noticed, frowning a little when he caught sight of the yellow glow bathing Connor’s face. The hell could he be processing at a time like this?

“What’s up?” Hank asked hoarsely, tapping at Connor’s spinning LED. “Thought I fucked you hard enough to shut off your processor for a few minutes.”

Connor smiled and batted away his hand. He rested his head on the pillow, his processing light turning from yellow to a calming blue. “I was just calculating the estimated number of calories you just burned,” he reported helpfully. “The number is one hundred and seventeen, a bit higher than the projected average.”

Hank’s mouth fell open in a gape. Connor cocked his head but kept talking. Because of course he did.

“The average caloric loss during the average four mile run for a human of your body type is somewhere around four hundred and fifty calories,” Connor said, “so, if this sort of activity is preferable to you over running, perhaps we should consider substituting it as your daily exercise of choice.”

“Connor, what the—”

“Of course,” the android charged on, “we would need to do it at least four times a day to equate the same caloric loss as a run, so—”

That was it. That was… That was so far beyond anything Hank could handle right now, and he made it known by grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving it over Connor’s face. “Jesus fuck, Connor,” he wheezed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

The pillow was pulled away. Connor looked at him with wide, sweet eyes, his lips curled upwards into a smile. “I think that’s the exact opposite of what my words imply,” he murmured, inching a little closer to Hank. With him this close, it was hard to be annoyed. Hank fought to frown. When Connor nuzzled his shoulder with his cheek, he lost the battle entirely.

Hank let out a low sigh and sagged into the bedding. He wrapped his arm around Connor, staring up at the ceiling with utter resignation. “You really like doing it with me that much, huh?” he mused, only half joking. An old man like him. Fuck.

“I like doing most things with you, Hank.” He turned his head at that. Connor smiled at him. “This was very enjoyable. Naturally, I don’t have much grounds for comparison, but you were able to skillfully bring me to clim—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough outta you,” Hank said, drowning out Connor as he rolled onto his side. His face felt decidedly hot and he didn’t need Connor pointing that out too. “It’s bedtime now. No more talking, you got that? Power down or whatever it is you do at night.”

Connor went stiff in his arms. “You want me to stay here?” he wondered, voice quiet. Hank had his eyes closed. He could imagine the expression Connor wore and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to see it. “You want me to… to sleep with you?”

“You like doing things with me, right?” Hank still cracked open an eye, his heart giving a funny little squeeze when he saw how Connor smiled. He closed his eyes once more, a wry smile quirking his own lips. “Might as well do this too.”

“Hank…”

“Shh.” Hank threw an arm over Connor’s waist and shoved the other beneath the pillow. It’d been ages since he’d last slept with someone else. He’d nearly forgotten how to do it. Lucky for him that Connor didn’t really need to sleep. It wouldn’t matter if he held him wrong. He still tried harder to do it right, though. Connor… Connor deserved the effort.

“Goodnight, Connor,” he muttered.

His face burned when he felt a kiss fall on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Hank. Sleep well.” Hank grunted and held him a little tighter.

It wasn’t perfect. Hank was sticky and aching, and Connor wasn’t as soft as a human might be in a similar position. The LED on his forehead was bright in the dark room, and even when Hank closed his eyes, he could still see the calm blue glow through his eyelids, teasing him like an obnoxious bit of sunlight peeking through the blinds. But Connor was warm. He was warm and there, and when Hank shifted a little, his lips grazed a soft temple. Connor leaned into him, seeking more. More of Hank.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it could be.