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Connor is a horny little bastard.
Sure. When someone first starts having sex, they tend to be excitable. Hair-Trigger teenagers are a stereotype for. reason. But Hank isn’t a teenager. He’s pretty much the farthest thing from it. And Connor’s newfound libido is going to fucking kill him.
Hank has started bringing home sex toys defensively—sneaking off to buy them on his lunch break. Because the second they get home, Connor is on him. Kissing him. Grinding against his leg like a bitch in heat.
It was bad enough before when he just had one hyperactive puppy jumping all over him as soon as he walked through the front door. Now with both Connor and Sumo trying to lick his face at the same time… well… it’s a lot to cope with?
“Get off,” Hank grunts. Not sure if he’s talking to the dog or the android. Only one of them listens. Sumo sits back on his heels, tail wagging, because he has some degree of discipline. Connor just whines, mouth pressed against Hank’s jaw.
“I waited all day!”
Hank can hear he pout even if he can’t see it.
“Listen, telling you we can’t fuck in the bathroom at the goddamn police station isn’t me being an asshole. It’s me trying to keep our jobs.”
“We wouldn’t have gotten caught,” Connor breathes. “We had exactly ten minutes before any probability of being interrupted.”
“Humans don’t operate on strict schedules, Connor.”
“No, but they have habits. Steady routines. That's not the point. Please touch me.”
“Give me a minute. I need to feed the damn dog. Just—go wait in the bedroom.”
Connor finally pulls back. Visibly crestfallen. God. Those big brown doe eyes. They’re entirely too expressive. Entirely too good at making Hank feel guilty when he hasn’t done anything wrong.
“I got you something.” Hank tries to keep his voice gruff, but he can feel himself softening already. “If you wait patiently, I’ll give it to you.”
Connor’s face snaps back into a smile. He gives Hank a quick kiss on the cheek before bounding off to the bedroom.
Hank slumps back against the wall and takes a moment to collect himself. There are still a pair of puppy eyes staring at him. Demanding things. Sumo gives him a little time before letting out a low boof.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on.” Hank trudges towards the kitchen. Sumo follows, cold nose bumping into the palm of Hank’s hand.
It’s easy to go through the motions. Refill the water dish. Dump a cup of dry food into the bowl. Sumo sticks his nose in the bowl and starts eating before Hank even gets it to the floor. Like he’s starving or something, instead of thirty pounds overweight. Vets keep saying the big lug needs to go on a diet. Hank can’t bring himself to do it when he’s been ignoring doctors who’ve told him to watch what he eats for years. You need to lose weight. Get your cholesterol in check. Stop drinking. Stop smoking. Stop eating red meat. On and on and Hank doesn’t really give a fuck about what kills him in the end.
Though maybe he’s been making a little more of an effort lately. Eating vegetables. Going on jogs. Not because some stiff in a white coat ordered him to. It’s… well it’s Connor’s damn pouting and the way he gently, but insistently prods Hank towards healthier habits.
‘I know I’m likely to outlive you regardless, but I want to maximize our time together. I will miss you terribly when you die.’
Fuckin androids.
Hank pats Sumo on the head a few times before washing his hands and making his way back to the bedroom. He can already hear the slick sounds. The hitching gasps. Little fucker started without him.
He opens the door and palms it shut behind him. Connor is sprawled naked across the bed. All smooth, pale skin. Just a light dusting of hair on his arms and legs. He has freckles. All down his chest and back. Planned imperfections that make him unique.
His feet are flat in the bed, knees bent, hand between his thighs, two fingers in his ass. His cheeks and chest have a blue tinge to them, as blood rushes to the surface of his skin. Hank still can’t believe the kid blushes.
“So much for patience,” Hank snorts.
“I’m sorry…” Connor all but sobs. Already overwhelmed and desperate. “I—I just started replaying the memory of this morning in the shower and I—I couldn’t help it…”
The words send an undeniable lurch of arousal through Hank as well. How could they not? It’d been really damn hot. Pinning Connor against the cold tile while the warm water sprayed over them. Fucking into him slow and deep while he moaned, yes, yes, yes, Daddy, please.
Christ. The things it does to him when that word falls from Connor’s lips. It’s an intoxicating mix of shame and arousal. Too close for comfort. A little too real to be all pretend. Hank has taught Connor most of what he knows about sex. Humanity. How to exist as a sovereign entity, free of pre-determined directives. He’s not Connor’s father. They’re not even the same species. But it still feels a little dirty every time he sinks into the tight warmth of Connor’s body. Hank is man enough to admit he gets off on the wrongness of it.
Besides. He’s not the one asking for sex five times a day. Given the evidence, nobody could argue Connor doesn’t want him. Desperately. God knows why. But he does.
Hank sits on the edge of the bed. Trying to keep an air of detached amusement, even though he knows Connor could scan him and calculate his blood pressure. Connor won’t. Not right now. It’s all part of the game.
“Do you think you still deserve your present?” Hank raises an eyebrow.
“No,” Conor whispers so softly. Biting his lip. He must know it drives Hank crazy.
“Good thing for you I’m feeling generous then, huh?”
This is probably just reinforcement of bad behavior. But Hank’s never been great at denying himself the little things, and he wants to see Connor all dazed and fucked out as much as Connor wants to feel it. So Hank reaches into his coat and pulls out the unlabeled thin white box that’s been sitting in his pocket, teasing him with beautiful possibilities for hours.
“What is it?” Connor withdraws his fingers and rolls onto his side. So he can rest his cheek against Hank’s leg. Like he needs the constant physical contact.
“Hmmm…” Hank smiles. “Close your eyes.”
Connor follows directions immediately and without question—the way he almost never does out in the field. Should have been Hank’s first hint the kid was headed for deviancy. He seemed to disobey direct orders at every given opportunity. Barging into crime scenes. Hopping fences. Never staying in the damn car.
Hank grabs Connor’s discarded tie off the floor. He drapes the silk across Connor’s closed eyes. Ties the makeshift blindfold tight enough that it will stay on, but still loose enough to be comfortable.
“Lie back,” Hank murmurs.
Conor stretches out across the bed, happily putting himself on display. His cock is rock hard. Dribbling a small puddle onto his stomach. He used to ask, are you sure it’s OK? I shouldn’t order a larger model? But Hank thinks it’s perfect. Cute and curved, decidedly on the short side of average. If it makes Hank feel huge by comparison, well, that’s just a bonus.
Hank wraps his hand around Connor’s cock and gives it a firm stroke. Connor moans. Hips bucking into the friction. He whines pitifully when Hank lets go.
“Daddy.”
“Shhh.” Hank runs his thumb across that adorable little mole on Connor’s hip. “Just relax.”
Hank opens the box carefully. After all, this shit wasn’t cheap. It looks unassuming enough. Just a thin metallic wand with a rounded tip. But the woman–android–female android? Hank still doesn’t know what the PC nomenclature is. The cashier at the sex shop had assured him this thing was compatible with the y’know… parts Connor has installed. Hell, she’d been able to look up the freaking serial numbers from whatever weird CyberLife database she had access to. Hank tried not to think very hard about how creepy that was. Androids have a different concept of privacy than humans, in that most of them just don’t seem to have one at all.
‘Just insert it and press the power button. It should be able to connect with your partner’s internal sensors and stimulate them directly. You can control the current’s intensity with the dial, here.’
The words had made him profoundly uncomfortable back at the store. But now, with Connor spread across his bed. Well.
Hank takes the sterile packaging off the wand. Connor perks up at the noise. Probably trying to figure out what’s going on. Guess at what’s about to happen to him. Hank can’t help but smile as he nudges the tip of the wand against Connor’s already slick hole. Say what you will about laziness, banging somebody that comes equipped with a seemingly endless supply of silicone lubricant that they can fill their body cavities with at will is damn convenient.
Connor’s mouth falls open in a soft gasp at that first moment of penetration. The toy isn’t that thick. Maybe the width of a couple fingers. But it’s long. Hank keeps feeding it in until the power button at the bottom glows green. That was another selling point of this contraption. No batteries. It’ll run off any android’s internal power source.
Hank hits the button.
The effect is immediate and intense. Connor’s whole body jerks. He lets out a broken cry.
“Hank–what–oh my god –”
And Connor is coming. Shaking. Splattering stickiness all the way up his abdomen. This is the lowest setting. Hank is nothing if not an inquisitive soul. He wants to know what level two of ten looks like. So he nudges the dial.
Connor actually screams. Still shuddering. Cock twitching and twitching, like it’s struggling to produce any more liquid. Connor rolls his hips with stuttering motions, like he can’t decide if he wants to pull away, or try to seek out more stimulation.
“Too much?” Hank chuckles. It’s kind of a rhetorical question. Connor doesn’t have a refractory period. Or rather, he’s supposed to, but he’s admitted to overriding it on a regular basis. He says he can just replace whatever circuits get fried from the flagrant misuse of his pleasure receptors. Hank can’t honestly say he wouldn’t do the same thing given the option. He almost finds Connor’s carnal hedonism endearing. It’s not like the kid allows himself a lot of other indulgences.
“Pleasedontstop.” The words come out slurred, barely intelligible. Connor is still writhing. Whimpering. Rocking against the toy like it’s both his torment and salvation.
Hank turns the dial to four.
Connor stops moving. Like his hardware has seized up. He’s still moaning. Knuckles white where he’s grabbing the sheets. He’s obviously still coming, even if the reservoirs are dry. His cock is shiny with jizz, and the tip of it is getting more purple with each passing second. Still quivering.
Fuck it’s a pretty sight. Hank wants to savor it. But he also is vaguely worried about having to take Connor in for repairs and being forced to explain what they did to melt his circuitry. The wand does go all the way up to ten. So it’s unlikely this is actually enough stimulation to break something. Still. The afternoon is young.
Hank presses the power button. Connor instantly relaxes. His limbs go slack. He’s got a stupid smile on his face. He looks like he just got run over by a goddamned train and loved every second of it.
Despite the fact that he’s so hard it hurts, Hank is halfway tempted to just leave Connor like this for a while. Quiet and blissed out. Hank could just sit on the couch and read a book. Maybe even drink a beer and watch a game without having a greedy little sex fiend crawling into his lap and trying to distract him. However, Hank isn’t exactly a paragon of impulse control. Especially where Connor is concerned.
So when Connor makes a little needy noise as Hank withdraws the toy and starts to blindly reach for him… Hank doesn’t even try to resist. He lets Connor pull him down and cling to him. The kid always seems happiest when he’s being crushed under Hank’s (significant) weight. It seems cruel to deny him.
“Did you like that?” Hank tugs at the blindfold until it loosens enough to slip off. Connor blinks a few times. Still dazed.
“That was… unexpected. But quite enjoyable.”
Hank always wants to laugh at the abrupt shift in Connor’s tone after an orgasm. Back to business. Mr. Detective Suit And Tie. Sometimes Hank wonders if people would believe the way Connor falls apart, the way whimpers, and begs for more. Not that Hank would tell anyone. But y’know.
“Do you want to fuck me, Lieutenant?” Connor asks oh so innocent. Like he didn’t just come his brains out.
“Oh, so it’s back to ‘Lieutenant’ already?” Hank rolls his eyes. “Damn. I shoulda turned that current up higher.”
Something in Connor’s expression shifts. If he still had that LED in the side of his head, no doubt it’d be flashing yellow. Thinking.
Then he pulls Hank in even closer. Lips brushing against the shell or his ear as he whispers. “Please fuck me, Daddy, I need it.”
Shit. Hank’s breath hitches. Next thing he knows, Connor is unbuckling his belt and pushing at the waistband in his jeans. It’s easy to help him along. To kick his pants off, line up and press into that wonderful, slick heat.
Hank isn’t proud of being so easily manipulated. But in his defense, Connor was designed to be good at manipulating people. He was created to gather information, find the weak spot, and go for the kill.
At least Hank doesn’t really have to worry about taking it slow right now. He probably couldn’t if he wanted to. He ruts into Connor hard and fast. Of course, Connor loves it. He wraps his legs around Hank’s waist, trying to urge him deeper. Bucks back against every thrust. Moans and gasps. More, harder, fuck, Daddy, fuck me, please .
He feels so silky on the inside. Warm and buttery smooth. So goddamn tight. No matter what they’ve been doing. And Connor is always responsive. Squirming, pushing for more, babbling about how good it feels. He’s still hard.
Hank isn’t sure what he did to deserve this. Objectively, he doesn’t deserve it. Connor is miles out of his league, even if Androids don’t seem to navigate by the same standards of attractiveness as humans.
‘You are interesting, Hank. That is the quality in humans I enjoy the most. You are unpredictable and inconsistent. I could be with another android who was physically perfect, but they would not be able to surprise me. I would be bored.’
Of course, Hank doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t trust anything that’s too good to be true. He’s ready for Connor to announce he’s moving out any day now. But it hasn’t happened yet. Hank will ride this wave out as long as he can.
Hank supports himself on one arm and wraps his hand around Connor’s cock, rubbing his thumb right under the head of it. Connor whines. Fingers digging into Hank’s shoulders.
“You gonna come again?”
In response, Connor does. He clenches around Hank’s cock, spasming oh so sweetly. His eyes fall shut. Mouth open. Please, Daddy.
It’s more than anyone can be expected to handle. Hank buries himself as deep in Connor as he can and just lets the pleasure crest. Connor kisses him dirty and wet, shivering with the aftershocks. They stay pressed against each other. Even as Hank starts to catch his breath and the blue flush fades from Connor’s cheeks.
“I had an idea.”
“Jesus. Can’t I get a minute’s peace?” Hank groans.
“Since the work bathroom is off limits, perhaps we could adjourn to your car tomorrow during lunch. The back windows are tinted. Both of us could fit comfortably if I were to sit in your lap.”
“You’re a monster.”
“Your heart rate just increased by seven beats per minute, which would seem to indicate you find my idea stimulating.”
Instead of arguing, Hank decides it’s best to distract Connor with a kiss. It works in the sense that Connor stops talking. It backfires in the sense that it makes Connor squirm underneath him, and yep. Connor is ready to go again.
Fuckin androids.