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In Your Hands

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“How is everything? Have you and Sumo been eating what I put out?” Connor asked over his call, sitting in a deceptively stiff chair looking out the window. The early morning sun was just creeping over the peak of the room tops to brighten the manicured garden. Cool and fresh, the breeze rolled in through the cracked french doors. Connor shifted, trying to settle better into the cream white upholstery of the carver chair he occupied. “Jesus kid. I’m fucking 54. I can take care of myself.”  Hank’s gruff voice vibrated in his audio processor, slightly shaking his cranial components.

 

“Your health records from the last decade would say otherwise.” Connor snarked back. His eyes traced the lines of vine patterned wallpaper.  A brilliant teal backdrop with vibrant leaves, twisting vines, pink roses and detailed birds in flight. A restored detail that their tour guide earlier had made a point to emphasize. Such simple wallpaper that needed so much maintenance, seen by so few, became a clear symbol to all the history, money and therefore power, held by the owner. “Let’s call it a cheat day or something.” Came Hank’s grumbled response, Connor heard a loud boof from across the phone. 8:12 in Michigan, Sumo wanted to go on his walk. “For Eleven years?” “Fucking hell Connor, leave an old man to his pleasures.”

 

“I thought you got mad when I called you old” A set of sirens were going off in the distance, emergency vehicles driving by. “of course I get annoyed. It’s your fucking baby face calling me old!” His normal cursing was slightly muffled as the juggling he needed to do to get Sumo ready for a walk. His chastising at Connor was muddled, cell phone most likely shoved between his mouth and shoulder. “CyberLife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans.,” Connor monotonously replied with a pre-programmed speech. My appearance was specifically designed--” “yes I know I know!” Connor simply smiled at the irate tone. “You’re a real smart ass you know that.”

 

“Learned it from the best, Hank.” He laughed loudly, bouncing off the walls of the vacant room. Just past the door to the living room were the muffled voices of his companions. “Yeah, well knock it off if you want to be welcomed back home.” He heard the lock on the door across the line and the rustle of grass as Sumo marked his territory. Deep in his belly, he felt an ache to be there. The desire to be in he comfortable sweaters and jeans, walking sumo around the neighborhood. Making stops to watch kids in the park or for Hank to run into the store for some errands. He was starting to miss the quiet comfort of the ranch home. “Love you too, Dad.” He said quietly trying to strike a sarcastic tone, barely loud enough for himself to hear. The silence was the only response for fifteen seconds. The silence wasn’t heavy but it still put Connor on edge. Did he say too much?

 

 “... Be safe, Son.” Came Hank’s response, in a voice that was soft and a little unsure. Connor felt the split of his lips as he smiled. “Of course Hank. Take good care of Sumo.” The door across from him clicked open. The voices becoming louder as they entered. “You know this is bullshit, Markus.” Came North’s irritated voice as she stormed in, the weight of multiple files barely containing her normal exaggerated movements. The sound felt like it was coming through the water as Connor had all his audio focused on his call. “That maybe North, but we have to play by their rules.” Came a tired reply as Markus followed her. He was standing tall but a worrying hunch in his neck had Connor on alert. He took a quick scan;

           

Stress 34%

 

Not ideal.

 

“I have to go Hank. Have a good day off.” he said, standing up, ready at attention “Yeah, yeah, have fun playing fucking politics, Son. We will see you on Saturday?” Josh closed the door after Simon, both looking frayed around the edges. “Yes, I hope so.” With that, the line clicked dead and he turned his full audio to the room. “You can not tell me that this behavior is okay.” North threw the files onto the coffee table between her and Connor. She was in a defensive stance, her braid swinging at the force of her angry gestures.

 

Connor kept quiet as he watched the four, the congregated in a semicircle like they normally did when discussing issues. Quietly Connor went to close the french doors, performing a scan to see if anyone was in visual of the doors. With a quick calculation, he positioned himself before the windows in the statistically best way to provide a barrier between Markus and any possible adversary. “First they make us come all the way here,” North ticked off on a finger. “Than they make our stay in this place that has inadequate accommodations for androids. They give you no protective detail even though they claim to value you as important. And now, they pushed back your meeting with the President again!” Now North was screaming, the volume of her voice bouncing off the wall, though no one flinched at the elevated decibels.

 

Markus, stalked over to the fireplace, picking up the porcelain Chinese figures one by one and examining them. His brow was pinched and rough as he ran gentle fingers over the delicate material, tracing the features of a young maiden. “What would you want us to do?” Josh said, also frustrated, he collapsed down into a chair, rubbing his eyes. “We can’t fight them on this North, we have to wait until they receive us.” He said, clearly upset with the whole situation as well. Simon took a much more graceful seat across from Josh. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “She has a point though,” He said down into the carpet. “We were supposed to be done with all this yesterday and we still haven’t even been formally introduced yet.”

 

“I’m not sure how much longer we can be away from Jericho,” Josh admitted, leaning back into the chair, pulling his head against the back and stretching out his legs. Markus refused to look away from the porcelain figurine. Connor watched as he kept re-running his fingers over the delicate folds of the robes. “We still have to clean up that mess with the housing around the church. Lucy called to say that the Mayor is threatening to send DPD and charge our people with squatting.” Connor perked up at that, he had heard no such thing, Hank surely would have mentioned it in his calls if he knew.

 

“This is all a game to them.” North seethed “They are just trying to play with us at the risk of our people.” She was right, they all knew she was. All three sat in silence, peaking glances at Markus as he still refused to add an opinion. Connor shifted, ready to offer up something. Maybe he could head back to Jericho, call Hank, bide some time with the Mayor. Maybe he could head to the white house, speak with someone there. Try and figure out why they were stuck in this limbo. Maybe he could march out and make a public display of himself, get media attention to call out the hypocrisy. He was ready to offer up anything.

 

“Simon,” Markus said suddenly, his voice low and heavy. “Call the President's point of contact. Tell them we are leaving Saturday no matter what. Force their hand.” He ordered, placing the figurine down a little too hard, the sound of a small crack forming at the base making his eye twitch.

 

With a nod of his head, Simon’s eyes glazed over a little. “Yes, Hello Mr. Millers? This is Simon, Markus’ head of staff... Yes, good morning... I know it is early, however, I am calling to inform you that we will be heading back to Detroit this Saturday... Yes, we are needed back at Jericho for urgent matters... Yes but--- we have important--- I know that this is an incoveni--- yes it is an emergency... I’m sure the president is busy... with all due respect sir we have been here since Sunday, we will be here till Saturday that gives you 3 days so— I am not implying you don’t know the calendar... well sir we have our own people to care for. We will be leaving Saturday, do with the information as you will.”

 

“They do not even talk to us like people.” North bit out, she had migrated to the window next to Connor, glowering out at the greenery. Connor looked back out doing a secondary scan; all clear. “It’s because to them we aren't,” Markus said with a reserved fury that had everyone on alert. The furrow between his brows grew deeper. He was still refusing to look at anyone, opting instead to focus his attention on his reflection in the mirror. His hand had migrated to the edge of the fireplace, latched on the mantel. The finely painted wood gave a groan as he gripped it tighter. It would splinter any minute. Silently Connor took a step forward, placing his hand on Markus’ arm. Markus’ shoulders went up instantly to his ears, only relaxing when he noticed it was Connor touching him.

 

“Then we make them,”  Connor said with a determined tone, slowly uncurling Markus’ fingers one at a time. Lacing their hands together, he looked into Markus’ eyes refusing to look away. Heterochromatic eyes twitched side to side as he seemed to be searching for something in Connor’s. “How?” Josh asked, breaking the tense silence. Uncomfortable, his voice held a forced reservation. “Well forcing their hand is a good start,” Simon said “Still it’s all the power in their hands” North snapped glaring out the window, arms crossed and back turned to her companions. “And as president, that’s where it will always be,” Markus said never breaking eye contact with Connor. “We have given them their timetable. All we can do now is wait and see what happens.”

 

With a great groan of a middle-aged human, rather than an ageless android, “I will check in with Lucy let her know we will be back soon,” Josh said. Hand in his pocket, he exited the room with a laidback gate that was too exaggerated to be real. “I have some opinion articles to finish writing and send out,” North said in a terse tone, turning quickly to collect all the files. With a flip of her braid, she semi stormed out after patting Markus’ on the back in support. Simon sat there for a moment longer just analyzing Markus’ stance and posture. “You want me to help you with your discussion notes?” he asked coming to stand beside the pair. Letting go of Connor’s hand, Markus turned to lean his back against the mantle, knocking his head back to look at the ceiling. Connor looked to his side at Simon, seeing the shared concern in the blonde's eyes.

 

“No, could you prepare a couple of press statements. We will need both for if we meet and if we don’t.” Markus said through a great sigh, closing his eyes as his shoulders sagged. He looked as if he had aged 10 years within the last 10 minutes. “Something diplomatic and calm but highlighting the undertones of dehumanization we are being shown by this administration.” Simon nodded “Of course Markus, I’ll be in the dining room if you need me.” With that, he left, closing the door quietly behind him. Markus didn’t move, His eyelids weren’t even moving, a sign his eyes were completely still as well. Connor just stood there silent, he wasn’t going to leave till Markus was ready to move.

 

An obnoxious grandfather clock set a beat of ticking from its corner. It was relentlessly loud to all the deviants, North already threaten to take a hammer to it after only a single night in the Blair House. A destruction that would cost them large amounts of money if not some political points if their current treatment was anything to go by. Connor bent forward, cupping Markus’ face using his thumb massaging his temple. Makus turned his tired eyes to him, drooped low, but a small smile lifted at the corners of his mouth.

 

“I am going to run a perimeter,” Connor said all business in his voice, a subtle offering of space to Markus that he most likely needed. As much as he wanted to be of service, he knew his presence would not be a comfort when Markus’ needed space. Even as a leader he was still a greatly introverted and private man. Unfortunately, he could not bring his paints with him for a much-needed outlet. “Then I will post myself outside your study.”

 

North hadn’t misplaced her anger. Their first hours in DC had been well enough, being created by special security who delivered them to the Blair House. However, within the hour of arrival, the security team had left and a group of paparazzi and anti-droid protests had taken their place. The first two days, had Connor strictly forbidding the other four from entering the frontmost rooms of the house and running solo perimeters every 30 minutes. DCPD had finally shown up halfway through the first day of protests but it seemed clear they were more worried about property destruction rather than the residents inside. All of it left the group supremely uneasy and while things had calmed down, openly at least, Connor still ran a check every hour on the hour and limited the groups time in rooms with too many windows for him to monitor.

 

“You might as well just come in when you’re done,” Markus said, pushing up from the mantle, his head was hanging lower than it ever should. “No point having you wait outside alone.” A weak smile graced as he bent forward, pressing a kiss to Connor’s forehead. It was warm and soft, his breath tickling the little hairs that fell out of his coiffed hairstyle.

 

“Please be safe,” Markus whispered, clasping his hand onto Connor’s wrist, rubbing circles in return for the message. “Am I not always?” Connor replied hoping to illicit sarcasm. He received a snort for his troubles. A small win in his book. “I’ll walk you to the study, c’mon.” Connor waited for Markus’ to turn heading for the door. Taking his opportunity he drew his hand back, bringing it forward fast to slap Markus’ ass. The resounding slap was wholly satisfying along with the little jump and yelp his victim gave. Just as an extra measure he palmed the abused cheek squeezing it. Markus just turned and shoved him on the chest in retaliation, his attempts to look annoyed doing little to hide his smile.

 

Stress vv 19%

 

Starting in the Garden, the low lying hedges made it easy to identify nothing of concern. He still took his time to walk behind every pill shaped topiary that lined the walls of the courtyard garden. Green lush and beautiful it was a pity that they couldn’t enjoy the space. Markus would love to sit and sketch the light through the trees. Scanning the roof, he found only a 3% risk of something nefarious, though he would get a better opinion once he went up there. Headed back into the house, he tracked the halls. Keeping tabs on North, in the library writing and grumbling to herself, Josh, in the dining room, with Simon chatting quietly while tending to their own tasks.

 

The second floor was empty, though he took the time to check every window lock and scan any location that a person could hide away in. The roof was devoid of anything suspicious as well through the fact there was an entrance at all put his teeth on edge. It was clear by the supplied on the landing beside the door, that this was a point of high surveillance normally. North was right to be outraged, any low-level diplomat would have had at least two secret service men who knew the home inside and out. Locking and baring the entrance to the roof Connor headed for the alleyway.

 

The street outside their lodgings was quiet when he walked around the corner. Either too early in the morning or too many days into their visit to illicit the vehement protest they saw previously. The street was relatively barren, only those headed to work were out. Most didn’t bother to look up from their phones, shoulders tiredly sagged in the heat, cups of coffee gripped like their only lifeline. Everything was bright and new and gleaming in the morning sun. Scanning the area Connor found nothing had been moved or added to the landscape in the last hour. Still, he calculated the probability of a number of attack and preconstructed hundreds of crisis responses. Content he ended out into the Main Street and scanned the windows and doors, detecting no tampering from outside.

 

Crossing in front of the building, with its mismatched tri-styled facade, Connor noticed a series of posters hastily plastered against the trees. There was a multitude of posters designs; bold iconography of faceless androids, delineated by their red LEDs, with BAN ANDROIDS splashed across the background, a grotesque cartoon of a furious looking Markus ANTICHRIST spray-painted across his face, even some with CyberLife’s logo scratched out  MAN OVER MACHINE buffering the edges. Connor, took each one down as he passed, surprised the city let them stay up, tarnishing the peaceful all powerful colonial look that most tourists came to expect.

 

   Folding the posters, Connor tucked them into his jacket to pitch later. Deeming the risk level to only be 10% Connor headed back into the Blair house, setting his timer to run periphery again in an hour. The house was quiet, tense and silent, for the four other occupants. He walked as lightly as possible, making sure to avoid the bits of floor hat squealed underfoot, he headed for the study. The carved cherry wood door’s lock clicked as he opened it. Across the room at the antique desk, hunched over, Markus sat, a tense hand gripping the scalp at the top of his head. The fire red of the walls made everything feel pressured and ready to burst. The air around him crackled with his frustration and possibly a bicomponent overheating. Staying in the doorway Connor ran a quick scan;

           

Stress ^^^ 51%

 

With a quiet huff, closing the door, Connor crossed over the oriental rug. The wood was soft and worn under his fingertips as he brushed them along the darkly stained desk. Markus didn’t move a single digit, remaining a tight ball in his wingback chair. “You need to take a break.” Connor broke the silence with, his audio processor wobbled ever so slightly with static. “Your stress level is far too high.” Markus continued to just ignore everything. Connors' fingers twitched, wanting to head for the coin in his pocket.

Biting his lip Connor started to circle the desk.“I saw a chess board in the library.” He tried for a friendly upbeat tone. “Would you like to play a round of speed chess?” Markus was bent over a series of typed up notes, they were awash in red marks and annotations. Rewritten half to death in the free time that none of them expect or ask for. “Maybe a book.” Connor bent down ever so slightly, trying to come to Markus’ level. He set a hip on the desk, trying to fane easy casualness to invoke a sense of comfort. “A room that full of leather covers are bound to have something of interest to you.”

 

Stress ^ 56%

 

Nothing was moving Markus from his frozen state. Connor felt his own stress level rise. He scoured his negotiation programming trying to find a new technique. All of it felt sterile, too mechanical and separated, to really calm Markus’ nerves. Unsure of it he could even touch the man, Connor, folded his hands into his lap. “I could take you out to the gar--”

 

“I have to get this done.” Markus snapped, slamming his fists onto the desk. Connor jumped up at the sudden movement and stood at attention.

 

“I’m sorry. Sorry. I... I just...” he clenched his jaw and kept glaring at the pretty portrait of a semi-famous first-lady that graced the wall across from him. Connor looked down at his furrowed brow “stressed” Connor hazarded a guess. The air heated up, Markus’ deep breathes pumping out hot air away from his biocomponents. Slowly he placed a hand on Markus’ shoulder, rubbing small circles. “Overwhelmed... but none of those things feel like they will help.” Sitting back against the desk Connor leaned forward, placing his forehead beside his hand on Makus’ shoulder. His synthetic skin was hot, past the pointing sweating if they were capable of such functions. Markus tilted his head, laying his temple across Connor’s. They sat in silence, as they breathed together, the expansion of their chests making them sway slightly.

 

“I feel tense, like my muscles won’t relax.” Markus’ voice rumbled through his throat.  Raising his head Connor, pressed their foreheads together. He could count the subtle freckles across Markus’ cheeks. The shadows created by their position gave the man a deep set of bags that Connor knew could never truly be there. “When is the last time you recharged?” He asked quietly into the space between their mouths. “Last night but it didn’t help.” Connor cupped the jaw with his hands, thumb tingling as it gently caressed over his stubble. “You’re one to talk, though. I haven’t seen you recharge since we got here”  Connor simply smiled over the observation, Markus would forever follow his caregiver protocol. Even if it put him in trouble.

 

“I have the most advanced battery Cyberlife ever made. I can go 3 weeks without needing to recharge.” Connor simple pointed out, closing the slight distance to leave a kiss across the lid of each eye. “You calling me old, Connor?” Markus snarked leaning back into the chair. He had to roll his eyes at that accusation. “Hardly, though you are more than welcome to complain with Hank once we return home.” Markus rolled his chair back, batting Connor’s legs as a means to direct him. Once fully seated in the center of the desk, Markus resumed his place, now snuggly placed between Connor’s legs. His arms wrapped around Connor’s middle, pressing his face deep into his stomach. Connor placed his head atop Markus’, placing his hand against the back of his head, brushing his ear softly. The folds of his button up shook as Markus exhaled into his torso.

 

Connor scanned him one more time;

 

Stress vv 48%

 

Lowering but not nearly enough. Rechecking his programming, he frustratingly couldn’t find a method that he liked to handle the situation. In his frustration, he expelled his energy by placing a dozen or so kisses to the top of Markus buried head. A grumble moan was what he got in return, along with the sudden compression of his biocomponents as he was lightly headbutted.

 

He looked around the red-walled room looking for something to ease the tension. Nothing but fancy paintings, delicate china, and dated furniture were of no help. The house reeked of propriety and pomp, like a stale stench that clung only to antiques. The decor was rich, if not overly delicate, and ornate. It provided ample material for Markus’ to sketch, unfortunately only for their first day here. By now everything of interest had been marked down and watercolor in detail on the course paper of his leather bound sketchbook. Only space yet to be analyzed by his artistic eye was the garden. Hopefully, soon he could have the joy of watching Markus’ work, perhaps through the iridescent rainbows fo the fountain’s waters. That would be a moment to back up in triplicate.

 

   Markus was groaning and grumbling like a child being forced to leave the park. Childish noises staving off a truly monumental ache of misery, so deep, that sparked quite contemplations by wise men for generations. Markus was at that rare and terrible special edge of a breaking point, tittering between every day upset and complete burial. That terribly special edge needed a special response, one that helped pull him back from the precipice.  Something special. To relax.

 

“I might know of a way to help relax you,” Connor whispered into Markus’ ear, scratching his nails against the skin behind his ear. Markus gave a small shiver as Connor teased the sensitive skin. His arms squeezed tighter, a hand sneaking under Connor’s suit jacket to palm at this lower back. “Do you remember that suggestion you made about a month ago?” Markus shook his head in the negative. Without prompt Connor peeled back his synthetic skin, revealing the bright white of his plastic hand. With two gentle prods, he egged Markus into revealing the plastic at the base of his neck. Closing his eyes he focused on sending the memory recording to the man in his lap.

 

   The powerful memory Markus’  handsome face framed by Connor’s pale mole covered thighs. The pleasurable tightening of his gut at foul words from talented lips, ‘Would you want that love? To be my cockwarmer?’ The tightness in his Thirium pump at the elaborate visions of himself on his knees, naked, happily deep throating Markus’ glorious cock. The electric jolt that rocked him to his core, hanging on a fraying string to Markus’ words, about to be plunged into a pool of ecstasy. ‘But maybe on a special occasion, I can sneak you under my desk for the day.’

 

   “Today seems like such a special occasion,” Connor whispered directly into his ear. Markus’ synthetic breathing halted. “I would very much like to spend my day on my knees,” He dropped his voice lower. “in service,” he blowing a teasing puff of air across the shell the ear. “to you.”

 

The shifting around his stomach made Connor sit back, looking down at Markus’ wide eyes. Mouth still buried in the soft stomach, he looked almost comical with blown pupils and tilted brows. Keeping the connection open he pushed his feelings through the line. Warmth. Happiness. Concern. Desire. Conviction. Care. Love. Like a circuit,  they cycled back through to him, running a gauntlet loop of warmth. His fingers tingle and he felt the buzzing electricity-heat his biocomponents.

 

“You have perimeters to run,” Markus said, muffled by the fabric of his shirt, barely sounding convinced by his own reasoning. Letting go of his neck, Connor recovered his hand with synthetic skin, before cupping Markus’ face. He planned a kiss, almost smashing their noses together in his haste. “Not for another 45 minutes,” he said between pecks. Markus returned the affection, tilting his head from side to side, running his hands up and down Connor’s thighs. “I have work to do.” He said, sounding depressed by his own admittance. His brows dipped down making him appear to be angry with himself.

 

“And you can do it,” Came Connor’s diplomatic response. “I won’t be too much of a distraction, promise.” Markus’ Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his mouth fell open slightly. Pink and soft, Connor watched as his tongue wetted his lips. The ticking of the clock on the mantle filled the room, an obnoxious metronomic beat that Connor was ready to destroy. He would at least earn brownie points from North for doing so. Still, with wide eyes, all Connor got, and needed, was a single nod. His cheeks ached with the sudden force of his smile.

 

Giving an obnoxiously salacious wink, he placed the toes of his shoe on the seat of the chair. The shine on his black patent leather stood out in the shadows of the valley between Markus’ thighs. Even though the worn black leather, he could feel the heat radiating in that space. He meant to push the chair back, but not before Markus stopped him, grasping the back of his calf and leaving a loud series of kisses to his knee. His fingers crept up under the cuff of his pant leg, tickling the hairs there. Connor’s voice box crackled as a high pitched giggle slipped out. The morning sun streamed in, bathing the room in butter lemon yellow, the dust of the room gently danced through the air. It all created a heady feeling within Connor, dreamlike in the moments right before he gave into sleep mode. “Stop that, I'm supposed to be taking care of you.” Connor gasped out as his leg hairs were brushed and teased.

 

“And you are,” Markus replied, doubling down on his ministrations of the appendage. Between kisses he nipped at Connor’s knee, looking into his eyes with a devious little smile.  “Let an ‘old man’ have his pleasures.” Connor bit back the laugh, finally pushing on the chair. His foot slightly slipped, slotting under Markus’ crotch, but soon he made enough room between the desk and the chair.

 

Slipping to the floor, his knees thudding against the wood. With quick precision he shucked his jacket, folding it to prevent peeking in the shoulder, placing it beside the desk. Loosening his tie he settled onto his heels. With the desk at his back, Connor felt encompassed. Moved to adoration, he caressed every ounce of his devotion from the tips of his fingers into those muscled thighs. The angle made the streaming light look like a crown surround Markus. “So how am I supposed to work from back here?” Markus asked, placing his head on his fist, just looking down like the overindulged king Connor wanted him to be. Nonplussed he hooked the armrests of the chair, pulling it forward. He shifted backward, fitting into the leg compartment of the desk.

 

Dark and warm in his makeshift cage, he manipulated Markus’ legs to bracket either side of himself. A booted foot slightly knocked against his hip, only stopping when he pinched that calf. The chair squeaked as Markus’ leaned back, attempting to place in hands in a relaxed fashion. Feeling slightly dry, Connor licked his lips, his hands slightly shaking as he reached for Markus’ zipper. He cupped the bulge that lay against Markus’ left thigh. As his palm curved to mold against his bulge, it gave a twitch. Wrapping his fingers around the curve of the imprisoned shaft, he pulses his hands up and down, making a note to press his thumb at the glands under the head.

 

Markus just sat there, silently staring down without blinking, as if afraid it would all stop if he moved. “I Believe, You had work to do,” Connor tried to sound seductive, slowing down his words and drawing them out. Markus didn’t move a hair. With one last rub to the trapped tip, Connor moved to the button of Markus’ gray jeans. Batting his eyes as he looked back up, “Don’t mind me.”

 

Popping the button through, he gripped the metal zipper pull between his thumb and pointer finger. At a torturously slow pace, each metal tooth unlocked like the pearly gates. Unable to abstain any longer Connor dove a hand into the opening of his pants to pull out his prize. Warm was the first thing that popped up in his processors. Even at half-mast Connor could circle his fingers around Makus’ cock, but just barely. Pumping his hand he watched in rapted headiness as it grew in his hand. With his other hand, he lucked his fingers back into the jeans to pull out Markus’ hefty balls. They radiated a delicious heat as Connor pressed his lips to the tender skin of his scrotum connect to the shaft.

 

He had a unique smell, skin covered in the opulently priced fine soaps that the bathrooms were stocked with. Gardenia and aloe, that what was now perfuming the androids synthetic skin. Fresh and bright but foreign enough that Connor took his time to log the scent to his memory banks. Trailing his nose along the exposed skin of Markus’ stomach, peaking out under his rucked up shirt. Cupping one side of the shaft he pressed his lips to the other, making an obnoxious smacking noise. A single calloused rough hand raked through his hair, dislodging it from its perfect gelled styling.

 

Opening his mouth, Connor laid out his tongue flat, huffing two warm breaths against the head. With a grip at the base, he bounced the gland across his palette in an obscene show. The hefty weight against his waiting tongue making his own cock rise to attention. A choking noise came from Markus’ throat, his hands on his paperwork but all his attention on the display below him.

 

“Liking the view?” He asked, flicking out his tongue to lick the tip. “I do enjoy being down here. Your obedient pet.” a sharp intake of breath was all his go in response. The skin was velvety hot under his lips as he kissed the skin, following the path laid out my veins. “I thought you had work to do.” Connor hummed, tightening his grip on the base. “You’re a nasty tease” the man bit out, finally tearing his eyes away to look at his work. “You say that like you wouldn’t have it any other way.” Connor grinned up, his hand fisting the length of Markus’ cock.

 

Taking a deep breath, he cupped his prize with both hands and wrapped his lips around the head. He hummed his approval at the salt like taste that flooded his sensory processor.  Slowly, bobbing up and down in counts of three, he sank down onto Markus’ cock. The man above him let out a low happy groan. One that stuttered slightly on the end as Markus’ bit down onto his lower lip. Eager fingers came down to rake through Connors' hair. Connor smiled at the happy petting he was being given, taking time to revel in the touch.  Above his head, he could hear the dull sound of a pen scratching across paper.

 

Something about the lack of attention sparked jolt to his thirium pump. Tight and warm and the desire to track all attention back to him flooded his systems. Baring down, he relaxed his throat. Wide and warm, he felt full. Sinking to press the tip of his nose against Markus’ pelvis. The scent of gardenia and aloe was thickest among the soft thick hair. The legs beside him tensed, something he tried to soothe with warm insistent fingers along corded muscles.

 

Blessedly he didn’t need air, for he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to fit it alongside Markus. He revealed in that space, similar to the heady warmth of being cocooned in blankets with Sumo laying on top. Surrounded totally, inside and out. No longer needed his hands at the base, Connor put them to work, fondling Markus’ heavy balls and running his nails through his pubes, scratching at the sensitive skin under it. There was a hitch in the writing above, and the distinct sound of paper tearing.

 

Connor let out a muffled chuckle, one that, due to vibration, caused the hand in his hair to scratch its nails deep into his scalp. A burning forming from the irritated synthetic skin. He scratched at the pelvis before him in retaliation. Pulling a few hairs, he pulled his head back all the way to the tip. He marveled at the skin glistening with his saliva for a handful of seconds before thrusting back down to the base. He repeated the process, pulsing up and down the shaft with loose lips allowing them to drag.

 

The breathing above him took on that distinct loud huffing, that resulted from great breathes coming through the nose alone. The chairs rollers gave tiny squeaks as Markus’ hips started to fidget. Tiny pulses up and down, trying to match the beat of Connors bobs. Connor would find a pace and revel in it for several moments before switching to a new one. Leaving Markus to twitch his hips in desperation to keep pace. He rolled his fingers under Markus’ balls as he wrapped his tongue around the head before pulling off completely.

 

Starting at the base, Connor dragged his tongue all the way to the slit before running to the bottom and starting again. Markus’ hummed his approval, tucking his fingers under Connors jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheekbone. He continued like this until the hand in his hair refused to let him move his lips from the head of Markus’ cock.  The twitching erection demanded attention Connor just nipped at the sensitive skin. “Behave yourself or I’ll kick you out.” Markus chastised darkly, a harsh shove. The feet bracketing him coupled with that hand becoming more insistent. Confused on the social cues made Connor wonder if Markus would actually stop him from his ministrations.

 

He apologized with a kiss, wanting to not lose his prize to cheekiness. Pre-cum started to leak from the tip which he licked up feverishly. Drool started to collect along the sides of his mouth. Small dark stains from his spit spotted Markus’ pants and boxers. An overwhelming need to make that stain bigger renewed his endeavors. He began to bob his head in rapid motions, paying mind to run his tongue along the glands and slit at the head. The corner of his eyes started to water.

 

Markus started to groan louder, his thigh muscle starting to twitch. Connor felt the balls in his palm tighten. Excitedly he relaxed his throat, even more, sinking down till every possible inch was in his mouth and the head pressed against the back of his throat. The electricity in his biocomponents compounded in excitement, sending a pleasant tingle to cross his nerves. “Love, I’m... I’m close. Inside or on you?” Markus groaned out, hissing a breath through his teeth. In. absolutely in. Always in. Connor said none of this but just kept the cock buried in his mouth, swallowing repeatedly to vibrate around him. Markus’ hips started up pulse up off the chair into Connor’s waiting mouth.

 

“So good baby.” He praised petting Connor’s hair in between tight tugs. “Ahhh. I’m going to--”

 

A loud knock on the door made both men freeze.

 

“Yes?” Markus asked after a pregnant pause, his voice slightly muffled through the wood of the desk. “Markus?” Wide-eyed Connor heard the door click open as Simon’s voice came through. He sounded on edge, voice gruff and slow, a tone he used whenever he hoped to push back an inevitable conversation. “The President’s aid, Mr. Millers, is here too---” “Let me in.” a foreign booming voice washed out Simons in a great bluster. Connor heard the door banged off the wall with great force, rattling a 1988 portrait of Harry S. Truman hanging nearby.

 

Simon left out a small oomph. The hand in Connor’s hair gave a harsh tug as the thighs beside him tensed. Sensing a raising conflict Connor tried to pull back, but the hand in his hair refused to let him up even an inch. Still deepthroating Markus’ cock, Connor stopped his artificial breathing, reducing his risk of detection. Closing his eyes, he filtered all his energy into his audio processors, listening to the inevitable confrontation about to occur.

 

“The impertinence.” That voice continued, stinking full of that high and mighty tone of a man who never truly worked for acceptance. The sound of finely shined shoes gets louder as the man’s obnoxiously loud steps came closer. Every steps a mini announcement that the man emitting them thought he was oh so very important. The door clicked close, most likely with Simon stationed in front of it. The first line of defense if North deemed the situation something she needed to give her opinion on.

 

“You must be Mr. Millers, Aid to the President.” Markus' voice was cold and horse even though his words were nothing but polite. “Special Assistant to the President and Deputy Director of the Domestic Policy Council.” The man rattled off his title, as though anyone in the room truly cared. Connor heard the soft clicking of Markus’ jaw as he gritted his molars together. Connor let go of Markus’ tight balls, instead of wrapping a hand around Markus’ ankle, rubbing what he hoped was soothing circles around the bone. The foot gentle brushed along his hip, a petting motion that softened his own tense nerves.

 

   “Yes, well it is a pleasure to meet you, what do we owe this pleasure?” Markus diplomatically asked, his tone even and controlled, as if this was a normal meeting and not one with his boyfriend stuffed full of his cock. The thought, the threat, of being caught lit up Connor’s processors, making his nerves endings sensitive. Connor hummed in excited approval of this man’s amazing control. The hand under his jaw swatted lightly, urging him to stop. “Do not act unaware. Not even thirty minutes ago this tin man called me to make demands.” Mr. Millers insulting kept talking. The room began to crackle, the air full of flaring electricity from three annoyed androids.

 

   “I asked Simon,” Markus started to reply, placing all the emphasis on his friend's name. The hand in Connor’s hair tightening, soon he might be losing hair to that grip. “my assistant to call you. I am sorry if there was a misunderstanding. We are demanding nothing, we are simply informing you--” “You are in no position to be leveling such time constraints on the president. She and the rest of her staff are busy taking care of affairs much greater than your ragtag group.” Insufferable. A completely boarish personality for a man that Connor could only describe as, from overhearing conversations with Simon, ‘insight outrage’. Connor groans deep in frustration, forgetting temporarily the effect on Markus. Letting out a cough, Markus hunched farther over to disguise his minor thrust.

 

   “... I am sure she is. However, we were invited to discuss my peoples’ rights in this country. So I am assuming it is a meeting of import if we were asked to come to DC.” Markus’ heart rate escalated, Connor could feel the pulsing of his blood through the veins pressed along his tongue. His own heart rate escalated, heaving his chest and in turn making his head bob slightly along the shaft. The hand in his hair at first tried to stop him but soon it softened. Gaining his freedom of movement. Connor resumed the bobbing pace he was giving before this horrid man showed up.

 

   “Do not think too highly of yourself.” Markus let out a low growl, whether it was from the man's hypocritical words or from a deliciously tight suction was left unanswered. “I am simply stating a fact.” Was his measured response. His hips gave a small frustrated thrust. “The President will not be free until Sunday evening.” Why must Mr. Miller insist being here? Markus had better things to do, more important issues to pay attention to. More important people to pay attention to. Connor to pay attention too. He pulled all the way back on the shaft kissing the head in praise, before sinking back down. The slight squealing of saliva teasing at the possibility of being heard

   

“... That is a shame. As Simon has... told you, we will be leaving Saturday morning.” Markus said with a minor hitch in his voice as Connor stabbed his tongue into his slit. A blob of precome escaped in response to the treatment. “Unacceptable--” “Mr. Millers please, we were meant to meet with President Warrens on Monday and already be back in Detroit yesterday. I know the Office of the President is always busy, however, my people need us to--” That hand, petting in his hair, fisted tight once more, pushing Connors head down to the base. Unprepared, a gargle came from his throat as he started to choke. He tightened his hold around Markus’ ankle as the tears fell from the corner of his eyes.

   

“Your people can’t take care of themselves? I thought they were no longer machines waiting for orders.” Insolent bastard, Connor heard the deep and shaky inhale and Markus’ muscle sudden flex to stand. Quick as a light, Connor pulled back his synthetic skin, opening a connection with Markus. Into that connection, he pushed every ounce of love. Love for life. Love for Freedom. For choices. For opinions. For mistakes and upsets and overwhelming emotions. Love for the simple chance to live with Hank and Sumo and see his people allowed all the complexities of life as the humans and dogs in his life. Love for this man who gave it all to him. His heart raced in a frantic nature as he bared all that he could of his soul to the man he was still wrapped around.

   

“I will remind you, Mr. Miller, that my people make up 1/3 of the US population. You would be mindful to not make such sweeping remarks on such a populous.” So smart. So wise. So cunning, eloquent, brave, kind, curious, impassioned. So loving. Like a mantra, Connor pushed those thoughts through his connection. Aggressively forcing nothing but his adoration to be heard. With each compliment, he thrust his head. He wanted to awash Markus in love and pleasure and nothing but the thoughts of his own wonderment.

 

“A ‘populous’ that was nothing more than tools not even a year ago.” Connor would have snarled if he wasn’t preoccupied. This pathetic man dared to speak such ways? He didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as the amazing leader of his people, let alone feel as if he has the upper ground to look down on them. Markus crawled to save his own life and from that, he saved the lives of so many of his people. This man couldn’t even imagine what hells Markus had seen. The red and wet landfill full of mutilated men and women, all clinging to life, scrabbling together body parts and climbing a Sisyphean hill. Connor rolled his tongue and hummed his passion for the man wrapped in his mouth. Praising him with the passion for this was a man who literally rebuilt himself and in the process built up his people.

 

“My people have been around for years,” Makus stated, voice becoming rough around the edges. “Simon here has been his own man for three years, far longer than even myself, and he is not the first--” Markus' voice dropped into a deep, a guttural bark that egged Connor on. Through the connection, he pushed any and every desirable thought that he could think of through. Memories of couch backs and prodding fingers. Of bed nests and ecstasy induced misfired circuitry. Of chaste first kisses in the warm shadows of backyard barbecues. Of the lost breath at seeing such an amazing man for the first time, 20 feet tall emblazoned on LED screens, Plastic bared, and eyes piercing with determination as he requested nothing more than common care. Of every software instability caused by those heterochromatic eyes and soft lips. Of every aching desire for nothing more than to be near.

 

A low moan came from Markus’ belly. Through the connection, Connor felt that tight ball of excitement growing inside Markus. He could feel how the man’s spine cramped from restraining thrusts. He could tell from their connection that Markus was finding it hard to focus, that his optical unites where shorting out. How his mind palace was overriding the current drama to replay all those same memories from his perspective. Connor could see flashing images of his own face in ecstasy. How his chest curled when nipples were teased. The light bouncing off his own eyes in the summer sun. The feeling of circuits misfiring when he sees himself in the dim light of the Jericho Bridge. The hours spent silently being watched as he worked, intercut the images of countless sketches of himself that he had never been shown before.

 

“The office of the president will not--” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Why wouldn’t this worthless man shut up and leave? Leave Connor to his benedictions. “And he will not. Be. The. Last.” Every single word was dripping in conviction and everyone was paired with a brutal thrust to the back of Connor’s throat. Sighing happy Connor accepted everyone and when Markus’ stopped he ecstatically took control. “We will be leaving Saturday. Whether the President can meet with me or not is no longer a concern of mine.” sentence ending in a slight gasp, Markus lost control. Balls tightening and cock twitching, the electric wave of orgasm exploded from the pit of his belly. Nerves tingle pleasingly as cum hit the back of Connor’s throat.

 

Silence, that’s all Connor could register as he dropped from his high. Face pressed along Markus’ inner thigh. He started to feel the ache in his legs and the viscous texture clinging to the back of this throat. He was hard in his pants yet everything else told him he was spent and content. With a slow drag of his hands, he retucked Markus back into his pants, painstakingly re-zipped his fly as quietly as possible. No one said anything for so long that Connor began to worry he would be stuck under the desk for the rest of the day. Slowly the hand in his hair begins to pet again, smoothing down his messed up hairstyle and tickling the edges of his ears and nape. Feelings of pride, praise and pleasure was filtered to him, something he happily accepted with a contented sigh

 

“Expect a call from me.” Was the curt and angry response. Thankfully with that Mr. Millers loudly stormed from the room, hitting the poor presidential portrait with the door again. Connor let out a happy sigh, snuggling in closer to that powerful thigh, ready to fall into sleep mode right there. “Looking forward to it Mr. Millers,” Simon said stiffly, closing the door and righting the picture on the wall. Markus was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

 

“Well, I guess if we had any questions of their opinions on us...” Simon mused, Markus hummed, running his thumb over Connor’s wet lips. Dragging the course pad through semen that managed to escape Connor’s waiting mouth. “Not a total surprise,” He said, calmly he stuck his wet thumb into Connor’s mouth, having him clean it off. “We all know from the president's speeches that her administration views us as a threat.” Connor kissed the palm, left open for him.

 

“Well, for all that bluster we are back at where we were.” Simons' voice grew louder as he walked closer. Markus rolled his chair in closer. Pressing Connor's back into the desk, forcing his face into Markus’ warm stomach. His knees bent higher, thighs closing, bracketing Connor up to his ears in his presence. The air around him started to smell of heat and sex and gardenia and sweat. Keeping his eyes closed, Connor just lays there, face pressed into warmth, letting his body go limp. “It is still something,” Markus commented, back to business already. “The fact he felt the need to come and confront us speaks to some level of the importance of this meeting. Why else would a senior staff come and try to keep us here.”

 

“I don’t know Markus. Maybe Noth was right, maybe this was some ploy to separate us from Jericho. To hurt our people.” There was a light thud as Simon propped his hip on the desk. “Did Lucy make any mention of trouble?” “None yet, but Josh and I are planning to fly home at a moments notice if something does arise.”

 

   “Sounds good,” Markus agreed, picking up his pen to finish making notes. “For now we will just stick to the plan. If it’s all a farce well at least it will end Saturday.” There was a note of finality to Markus’ tone. A note that Simon, as second and friend, could easily ignore. “Markus... what if this is a trap?” Connor tensed, even his systems calculated a 15% chance and with the last conversation it was steadily rising. Biting his lip he pressed his forehead deeper, snuggling into Markus’ belly. Wanting nothing more than to stay in this happy heady space for the rest of the day.

 

“There is always a possibility,” Markus confirmed, cupping Connor’s cheek. “But we’ve known that since the moment we stopped hiding.” “But Markus--” Simon started. “If things take that turn though, the movement will live on. It’s more than us now.” Markus continued with that voice that dripped in deep convection. A sound and subject so deep Connor worried ice would grow in his heart for sure. Simon sat in silence, the only sound being the light tapping of his nervous foot against the floor. “You’re right.” Was the quiet response he gave after several moments.

 

“Is that Connor’s jacket?” Simon asked, leaning down to pick it up where it had been left beside the desk. “Oh, yes, he took it off before doing his perimeter. Apparently, it is to hot out.” Markus said so calmly that Connor couldn't have known his heart raised if his face wasn't buried along an electrical vein. He Just barely bit his lip, but an audible light fluttery chuckle, bubbled up in joy, escaped. Everything froze again, for 5 seconds. “If you don’t mind Simon. I have to get these notes done especially now if there will be a meeting.”

 

“Okay... Yeah... sure. Right, I’ll uh... I’ll go finish those press speeches.” Simon sounded flustered and quickly he hopped up. Four wide strides later, the door unlocked as he headed out. “Please make sure you and Connor get some rest.” Was his last words before slipping out of the study. In his wake was the sound of nothing but the clock ticking. Slowly, light flooded the desk underside as Markus rolled his chair back. Warm hands egged Connor out. pressing on his neck, shoulders, hands and arms. Coaxing him out like a scared animal of prey trapped in the corner.

 

The sun was bright as he crawled out. the rising sun bouncing off every surface creating a dreamy haze of light. Markus stared down at him with the most pleasant of smiles. “You love, were amazing.” He said, bending down planting a warm loving kiss to Connor’s forehead, brushing his messy bangs out of the way. “So well behaved. Such a good pet.”

 

   “Do you think they noticed?” Connor asked, accepting the hand to stand up “Simon, Probably. That moron, absolutely not,” Markus said with zero shame to be seen. He watched with a pleased smile as Connor, stood on wobbling legs. They tingled from being folded for so long, needed a good shake or two to calm the feeling. Markus cupped the back of his thighs, urging him to sit on his lap. “Even if they did, so what.” Markus queered, smiling even broader. Connor readjusted his collar, returning the smile very much proud of himself. Markus pressed hard kisses against his mouth. His tongue shoving into Connor’s mouth, dancing around his own. Markus let out a great moan as he tasted himself in Connor. Connor wrapped his arms around the man, pressing in as close as possible.

 

“I will have to return to a perimeter per half hour.” Connor pulled away, running his fingers through his hair, trying to seem somewhat put together. “Avoid all windows and the front rooms.” Markus’ eyes sparkled as he stared up at him, a soft smile gracing those wickedly brilliant lips. Strong callus fingers straightened his tie. His components vibrated as those amazing hands patting his chest. He planted a harsh kiss, nipping in a way that guaranteed a bruise, to his neck just above his collar.

 

“Your sweet talking always warms my heart,” His voice was muffled as he spoke into Connor’s neck, forehead buried, Connor felt the tickle of air as Markus breathed in the scent of his synthetic skin. Broad hands pressed long his back and hips, egging him off the desk and not ceasing till he was resituated on Markus’ lap. “I am going to call Hank, tell him about the DPD and the housing. Maybe he and Fowler could pull some strings if need be.”

 

“Thank you for helping our people,” Markus said, pressing a kiss right where his jaw met his ear. Connor snorted at the implication. “Nothing compared to what you do every day.” “Still every little bit helps.” “You’re too good to me.” Connor mildly chastised standing up, bending over to grab his jacket. “Nothing compared to what you just did for me now.” Markus quipped. As Connor turned to leave, Markus lashed out a hand to swat of his ass. Connor squawked ar the sudden sting, throwing on his coat. “I believe you said you had work.” He gripped back heading for the door. With a great sigh, Markus slumped forward. Picking up his pen, he had a childish pout across his lips.

 

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes for round two.” Connor laughed out, quickly closing the door behind him.

 

And if he stored the happily surprised look Markus send him away in his deepest memory banks well that was for him to know alone.