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Hank doesn’t hear the first knock on the door. He’s too engrossed in the basketball game, watching to see if UMich can make the final shot on Northwestern and finally break their tie just before the clock runs out.

Another knock, louder this time. Hank hears this one, and scrambles for the television remote. He finds it between two seat cushions and hits the pause button.

The sudden silence echoes around the little house. Had he just imagined the knock at the door? Was it wishful thinking that it would arrive so early?

After a moment of tense anticipation, he relaxes, settling back down into the couch cushions and sipping his Diet Coke. Must have been the wind.

He’s just about to turn the basketball game back on when he hears the third knock. It’s loud. Insistent. Like the knocker has been kept waiting.

Hank jumps up to his feet faster than he has in years, making sure to place his soda can on the table beside the sofa. He gives his reflection a cursory once-over in the mirror by the door - he’s looking better than he had in the past, his eyes brighter and his beard well-trimmed. He tucks a strand of loose gray hair back into the bun he’s begun keeping it in and smoothes down his shirt. A thought strikes him, and he lifts up his arm just to double-check that he put on deodorant this morning-

Another knock on the door. It’s more like a pounding now.

Hank sighs. “I’m coming, hold on!” He glances at his reflection once more, decides it’s good enough, takes one last deep breath, and opens the door.

And there, right on his front step, is exactly what Hank’s been waiting for.

He’s young, much younger than Hank, with pale skin and big brown eyes and dark, artfully tousled curls. One particular lock falls down over his left eye, and, Hank thinks, the sight of that alone was enough to melt anyone’s composure.

That is, it would be. If the man wasn’t already practically naked, wearing nothing but a pair of tiny boxers and a sleek, black collar around his neck.

Hank stares for a moment, taking in the sight of the young man before him. “Holy fuck.”

Then they meet eyes, and the young man smiles. “Good evening. I am the customized HR400 android you ordered from CyberLife. May I come in?”

Hank gives a curt nod and steps back, holding the door open so the android can enter the house. The android steps in, and Hank lets the door close behind both of them. He regards the other with arms folded across his chest. “So what’s the setup protocol?”

The android smiles again, tilting his head slightly to one side. “First, you must register my name with CyberLife. I am colloquially known as a Traci model, but you may name me anything you’d like.”

“Connor,” says Hank automatically.

The android nods, his LED blinking yellow for a moment. “HR400 #313 248 317 - 51 registered to Cyberlife as ‘Connor’. I will respond to that name from now on.” The LED cycles back to a placid blue.

“Good,” Hank replies, and goes to pick up his Diet Coke again.

The android - Connor - follows him. “My databases say your legal name is Henry Anderson, nicknamed ‘Hank’. Would you like me to call you by that name? Or would you prefer for me to refer to you by another title?”

Hank turns back to Connor. “You can call me something else?”

“Yes,” replies Connor. “You may choose what you would like me to refer to you as.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of them. Then Hank steps forward, never breaking Connor’s gaze. “Call me Sir.”

Connor’s eyes widen slightly. “Nickname ‘Sir’ registered to...owner.”

Hank could almost swear he saw the android shiver. He takes another step toward him, a predatory glint in his eye. “So you’ll call me that from now on. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.” Connor’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Good.” Hank turns away for a moment, then turns back. “And you’re….fully equipped, like I ordered?”

“I doubt I’d make a very good intimacy model if I wasn't,” quips Connor.

Hank snorts. “Intimacy model. That’s what they’re calling you now, is it.”

“It is my official designation from Cyberlife, yes.”

“I guess they gotta be all politically correct now, don't they.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean.” Hank laughs, looking Connor up and down. “I guess they really didn't need to make you too bright. Wouldn't really suit your...primary function.”

Connor reddens. “Oh.”

“Speaking of that,” Hank says. “You come with the parts I requested?”

“I am equipped with the standard HR400 phallic model and anal port, yes.”

“Sounds real sexy when you put it like that,” says Hank, rolling his eyes. “And everything works?”

Connor straightens ever so slightly. “Well, as I’m sure you’re aware, I am a prototype for a new line of intimacy models that can actually experience sensation, instead of simply simulating a reaction to it. Once your setup is complete and my pleasure sensors are activated, when you touch me...I’ll be able to feel it.”

“Pleasure sensors,” Hank says, surprised. “How about that.”

The android nods with something almost like pride. “It’s a top-of-the-line feature.”

A sly expression spreads across Hank’s face. “So I’ll be able to make you feel good too.”

“Um. Something like that.”

Hank lifts an eyebrow and steps toward Connor. “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“I, um. I currently have no preferences,” Connor stutters.

Hank’s voice is deep and soft, smooth as honey and just as sweet. “Aw, come on, baby. That would be awfully cruel of them - to make an ‘intimacy model’ that can't even get turned on.”

“I cannot become aroused until my pleasure sensors are activated.”

“Well then. Why don't you do that for me?”

Connor blinks. “We aren't yet finished with the setup process, I am not supposed to-”

And then Hank’s tone drops to something deep and threatening. “That wasn't a fucking question.”

“I don’t-”

He bites each word out. “Turn. Them. On.”

A moment of hesitation. “...Yes, sir.”

Hank smiles. “There we go.”

Connor’s LED cycles yellow, then back to blue. He swallows. “My sensors are currently at twenty-five percent activation.”

“So...you can feel this now?” He traces a hand up Connor’s slender, flawless neck.

Connor gasps. “Oh. Yes.”

“And how about this?” asks Hank. He grabs a handful of Connor’s curls and tugs.

Connor moans in response, lashes fluttering. “Oh…”

“So you can feel pain too,” Hank says with satisfaction, his own cock hardening already.

“I - I believe so,” Connor stutters. “Pleasure and pain...often go hand in hand.”

Hank scoffs. “Maybe for you. Looks like they programmed a bit of masochism into you.”

“I haven't yet discovered all of my...configurations. So I’m not sure if masochism is part of my program.”

I’m sure it is. I asked them to include it in your code,” Hank chuckles, leering down at Connor and running his fingers through that beautiful hair. “You’re a custom order, remember?”

Connor starts, as if he’d completely forgotten. “Oh. Yes. I suppose I am.”

“I suppose you are,” Hank repeats, almost mocking.

“If you don't mind my asking...what are the rest of my custom configurations?” Connor asks, biting his lip.

“Well, your pretty face, for starters.”

Connor blushes and looks away. “Other than my appearance.”

“Aw, I’m not gonna ruin the surprise for you, baby. That would take all the fun out of it, don't you think?” Hank eyes Connor, lips curling up into an almost-smile. “But...maybe it would be a good idea for me to double-check that CyberLife satisfied all my requests.”

“What do you-”

“Open.”

Like a switch had been flipped, Connor’s jaw drops open mid-word and remains there, completely slack. Connor himself looks visibly surprised at his own automatic reaction, and Hank smirks. “You didn't know about any of the voice commands?” Connor shakes his head, mouth still open. His tongue lolls out slightly, and a bit of drool collects at the corner of his lips. He looks pathetic already.

Hank chuckles and, taking a fistful of Connor’s dark curls once again, probes into Connor’s mouth with a large, calloused finger. “Look at that. What a pretty pink mouth they gave you.” Connor whines as Hank’s finger grazes against his tongue. “Bet my cock’s gonna feel real nice in there, won't it?” He adds a second finger. “Suck.”

Connor’s lips close on Hank’s digits obediently. He pouts around Hank’s thick fingers, tongue lapping at the tips. Hank couldn't possibly get any harder at the sight. “God, you're being so fuckin’ good already. Doesn't that feel nice?”

Connor nods and gives a little whimper in response. Hank smirks. “Of course it does.” He pulls his fingers out of Connor’s mouth with an obscene pop . “Now take off your boxers.”

Connor flattens his back against the wall, gaze nervous and reproachful. He looks up at Hank through long, dark lashes. “You won’t do it for me?”

Hank chuckles and leans against the back of the couch. “I want to watch you, sweetheart.”

Connor blushes again at that. “Okay,” he says, LED blinking yellow and voice barely a whisper. He hooks his thumb under his waistband, and slowly pushes down the boxers. Hank watches in anticipation as they slide down -

And oh , if that isn't the most delicious little cock Hank’s seen in his entire life, delicate and flushed and curving upward attractively. It bounces as Connor shimmies out of his boxers, and Hank feels himself begin to salivate. He could easily fit the whole thing in his mouth if he wanted. Probably tastes like fucking candy.

He can’t help but let out a low whistle of approval, eyes raking over every inch of that smooth, perfect body. “Look at you, kid. Fuck.”

Connor bites his lip, preening under Hank’s gaze. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Not as much as I will be,” Hank responds. He reaches down and gropes Connor’s perky ass. “But...I guess I’ll have to be patient.”

Connor’s eyes are wide and dark. “Why?”

Hank chuckles. “I’m not done testing all your settings, baby. Now get on your knees.”

Immediately, Connor drops to a kneel, gazing up at Hank with half-lidded eyes.

“Open,” Hank says, and Connor’s jaw goes slack once again. Hank hums and strokes Connor’s cheek with one hand, using the other to unbutton his pants. “You look so good like that, baby.” He finally manages to get the top of his pants open and, wasting no time, pulls out his cock and pumps it a few times.

Hank’s never been a terribly prideful man. But God, if the look in the android’s eyes - enticed, intimidated, aroused - doesn't make him puff out his chest a little. He’s far larger than average, and he can tell that Connor knows. His sweet, innocent brown eyes are bigger than they’ve been all night long.

Hank laughs darkly at that. “Look good to you, sweetheart?”

Mouth still lolling open, Connor nods. Hank smirks in response. “You poor little thing - getting so worked up just looking at your owner’s cock.” He leans down slightly, voice dripping with condescension. “You wanna taste it, honey?”

Connor nods again, even more desperately. Hank runs his hand through Connor’s hair. “Then turn up your sensitivity levels. I want them at fifty percent.”

Apprehension flashes in Connor’s eyes, and he hesitates for a moment as his LED cycles yellow. But then it’s back to blue again, and Connor’s letting out a needy whimper, looking expectantly up at Hank and his thick cock.

Hank hums in approval. “Good. And don't take your eyes off me, baby. Now suck.”

And then he pushes in, and god is this android’s mouth perfect - warm and wet and impossibly soft. Connor’s lips stretch obscenely around the girth of Hank’s cock, and it’s all Hank can do to hold himself back from coming right then and there, spilling hot down Connor’s throat.

But Hank’s not a young man. He knows he’ll only get one good orgasm out of the night before he’s utterly spent. Now isn't the time to waste that opportunity.

Hank’s hands come to rest atop Connor’s head as the android begins to bob up and down on his dick, still gazing up at Hank with a gentle, pleading expression. Just watching him suckle on Hank’s cock so obediently makes Hank feel like a dirty old man, the shame and taboo of fucking such a pretty, helpless thing heating the back of his neck.

But Hank has always been turned on by taboo. And that isn't about to stop tonight.

Hank tugs Connor off his cock by the hair. Connor gives a little whine - from disappointment, or arousal, or maybe both. His lips are a deep pink now, shiny with spit and Hank’s precum. Gorgeous.

“Such a good little robot,” Hank murmurs, patting the side of Connor’s face. “But I’m not done with you yet. Gotta check that CyberLife didn't miss anything.” He straightens up and tucks his cock back into his pants. “Stand up.”

Connor freezes. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” says Hank. “Like I said, I’m not done with you yet.”

Connor’s eyes flick to the outline of Hank’s cock, still hard in his jeans. “But-”

Hank cuts Connor off, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him up roughly. “What did I tell you?”

“To stand up,” answers Connor in a meek whisper.

“And you didn’t. Now, remind me.” Hank grasps Connor’s jaw, drawing him in so their faces are inches apart. “What is it that you are?”

Connor whimpers. “I’m an android.”

Hank tugs harder on Connor’s hair, and Connor gasps. “You’re an android, what ?”

“I’m an android, sir!”

He’s frightened. It makes Hank’s cock twitch. “Damn right you are. You're an android .” He spits the word out as he gropes Connor’s ass again, rougher this time. “And what kind of android are you?”

“I’m…” Connor falters, flushing.

“Come on,” Hank cajoles, tone dropping to something sweet and condescending. “You know the answer.”

“I’m an...intimacy model,” Connor answers hesitantly.

Hank barks out a laugh that's almost cruel. “‘Intimacy model’. That’s a load of fucking bullshit

and you know it.” He drags a thumb across Connor’s plump lower lip, swollen and soft. “Tell me what you’re really built to be.”

Connor is lost for words. “I...I don’t…”

Hank scoffs. “Fine. I’ll say it for you.” He leans in close to Connor, tone low and dangerous. “You’re a damn sex toy, that's what you are.”

Connor’s breath catches. “Yes, sir.”

Hank’s voice is a low snarl now. “ Say it .”

“I’m…” Connor mewls, lower lip trembling and face hot with shame. “I’m a sex toy, sir.”

Hank smirks, pulling back slightly. “Damn straight,” he says, sliding a hand down Connor’s back. “And tell me. What do good little sex toys do?”

“They…” Connor’s voice trails off, and he looks desperately up at Hank.

Hank lifts an eyebrow. “They listen to their owners, don't they?”

“Yes, sir,” Connor whispers.

Hank presses his mouth to Connor’s ear. “That’s right,” he growls. “You were designed to obey. So obey .”

Connor goes boneless at that, melting into Hank’s touch. “Oh, god. Yes, sir .”

And hell, Hank can’t resist him anymore. He takes Connor’s face in his hands and then their lips are crashing together, kissing deep and wet and dirty. Connor moans into Hank’s mouth, panting as Hank nibbles at his lower lip.

Hank hoists Connor up in one smooth movement, surprised at how light he is. He feels his own cock twitch once again as Connor clings to him - after all, there’s something deliciously erotic about being fully clothed while Connor’s nude, perfect body grinds into his touch. Long, shapely legs wrap around Hank’s torso as he carries Connor toward the bedroom, never once breaking the deep kiss.

As soon as the bedroom door is closed behind them, Hank tosses Connor roughly down onto the bed. “Get on all fours.”

Connor doesn't protest this time. He rolls over and presses his cheek against the mattress, raising his hips up until his back is dramatically arched into a sinful curve. Presenting himself. “Like this, sir?”

Hank’s mouth waters. “Just like that, baby boy.” Sauntering up to the bed, he places a hand on the smooth, perky curve of Connor’s rear. “See? You do understand what you're made for.” He gives Connor’s ass a firm slap, savoring the resulting moan. “Turn your sensors up again.”

Connor tenses. “Again?”

Hank swats Connor on the ass for a second time. “Again,” he barks. “Seventy-five percent.”

He sees Connor’s LED flash yellow, then return to blue once more. “Yes, sir. Sensors are at -” Connor interrupts himself with a choked moan as Hank’s hand slides down his leg. “Ohhhh God.”

“Good boy,” Hank growls in response. Connor’s moans rise in pitch and volume as Hank grips Connor’s ass cheeks, eyeing his hole. It, of course, is as as smooth and perfect as the rest of Connor, colored a delicate shade of pink. And - just as Hank requested - it’s absolutely dripping wet, steadily leaking a clear, slick fluid.

Hank swipes two fingers over the liquid trickling down Connor’s thighs, letting his nails drag over heated synthetic skin. “Look at that,” he purrs, appreciative. “So worked up that you're leaking for me.”

Connor turns to look at him, his eyes soft and glassy. “It’s a self-lubrication protocol, I believe.” He grips the sheets, blushing. “It seems that it activates when I’m...aroused.”

Hank can't help but bark out a laugh. “I know that, baby. Like I said, I made more than a few...special requests.” He ghosts a finger over Connor’s hole and a fresh wave of lubricant gushes out, accompanied by a breathy moan from Connor. “Glad to see that CyberLife took my preferences into account.”

Connor sighs into the bedsheets as Hank continues to rub little circles around his hole, coaxing out more and more lubricant. Soon enough, Hank’s hand is almost entirely coated in it, slick and shiny in the dim light of the bedroom lamp. He lifts his hand up to inspect it, watching the lubricant drip down his wrist. “And everything about this is safe?”

“Of course,” Connor says, peeking up at Hank. “It’s completely safe for touch and for...consumption.”

Hank raises his eyebrows. “Safe for consumption, you say.”

“Yes.”

Without breaking eye contact, Hank lifts his hand to his mouth and licks a wet stripe over his palm, from wrist to fingertip. He smiles at Connor, wide and feral. “Fucking delicious .”

Connor whimpers and pushes his ass up just a bit higher.

Hank takes the hint. He spreads Connor’s cheeks again and presses his face between them, tongue flicking at Connor’s slick little hole. Connor keens and rocks his hips back, grinding against Hank’s jaw. “Oh…”

Hank palms the swell of own cock with one hand as he laps and sucks at Connor’s asshole, his other hand gripping Connor’s thigh. A well-placed nibble on Connor’s rim has the android shaking, panting into the mattress.

Hank gives his ass one more spank for good measure then pulls back, wiping the lube from his beard. “You want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” Connor moans, lashes fluttering.

Hank smirks and traces Connor’s hole with his fingertip. “Of course you do.”

He pushes one thick, broad finger in, and Connor gasps. “Oh!”

“You’re so eager, sweetheart,” murmurs Hank, and easily adds a second finger. “Already so nice and wet for me.”

Connor bites his lip and whimpers as Hank begins to work his fingers in and out of his hole. Hank, amused, watches Connor trying and failing to resist the impulse to arch his back higher, to rock back into Hank’s fingers. He’s absolutely pathetic like this, needy and wanting.

Then Hank crooks his fingers just right and Connor gasps , voice cracking and toes curled. “Oh, God!”

Hank chuckles. “Did I find your little sweet spot?” He rubs the bundle of synthetic nerves, and Connor cries out again, raw and aching. “Oh, you really like that, don’t you.” He draws his fingers out and feels Connor shudder at their absence.

Then, a sadistic grin splitting his face, he shoves four fingers into Connor’s hole. Connor shakes as Hank presses down into his bioprostate, legs trembling and dripping with honey-sweet lubricant. “ Sir!

Hank pumps his fingers into Connor lazily, idly wondering if he could push his whole hand in. “You like being so full, huh?”

Connor sounds as if he’s about to dissolve into tears. “Sir, I have to turn my pleasure sensors down or-”

Hank slides his fingers out and pushes them roughly back in. “Or?”

“Or- or you’re going to make me reach orgasm!” Connor chokes.

Hank laughs darkly. “No, I won't.”

“What?”

“You’re not coming until I tell you to.”

Connor squirms underneath Hank. “I really don't think I can-”

“Oh, yes you can,” says Hank with a smile. “It’s in your programming.”

A pause. “...What?”

Hank’s tone is pedantic, patronizing. “You’re programmed to come when I tell you to.” He thrusts his fingers deeper into Connor for emphasis. “And only when I tell you to.”

It's a beautiful thing, watching Connor as he’s struck by the revelation that he is fully, completely at Hank’s mercy. His eyes widen and he seems to shrink into himself, into the bed, into Hank, as if he is finally realizing just how small and vulnerable and breakable he really is. “Oh - sir…”

“And believe me when I say I’ll make you beg for it,” hums Hank, tone almost conversational. “But hell, I bet you come pretty. Ooh, I’ll bet you're a screamer - are you a screamer, baby boy?”

Connor can barely form words anymore. “I - I don't know, sir -”

“Well, you're gonna be once I’m done with you,” Hank responds smugly, and pulls his fingers out of Connor’s still-dripping hole. Connor whines, peering over his shoulder as Hank pulls his own cock out of his pants again. Watching with half-lidded, glazed-over eyes as Hank gathers Connor’s excess lubricant on his fingers.

Hank strokes his cock - slowly and carefully, base to tip - and tips his head back as he coats it in silky lube. He’s harder than he's ever been in his entire goddamn life, and Connor’s needy little whimpers from under him certainly aren't helping with that. He traces his fingernail around Connor’s winking hole once more, admiring how swollen and sensitive is is already. “You ready for my cock, sweetheart?”

Connor moans desperately, already shaking from overstimulation. “Sir, wait - sir, please let me turn my sensors down, please, it’s already too much-”

Hank stops the movement of his hand around his cock. “You know what?” he says, tone sickeningly saccharine. “Since you asked me so nicely...you’re going to turn them up.” His voice sinks into a snarl. “I want them at one hundred percent when I fuck you. Understood?”

Connor shakes his head frantically, expression wild and terrified. “Sir, no - please - no -”

“Manual override,” Hank barks. “Increase pleasure sensors to one hundred percent activation.”

Connor freezes.

His pretty mouth falls open into a perfect O, and as Hank’s hands grip his slender waist, he lets out the sweetest, filthiest moan Hank has ever heard.

The only thing Hank can do in response is laugh.

“Doesn't that feel good, baby boy?” he asks, running a hand up Connor’s back and feeling the android tremble beneath him. “Feeling so sensitive everywhere.”

Connor cries out at Hank’s touch. “Yes, sir - ah !...”

“Of course you love it,” Hank replies darkly.

And then he wraps a hand around Connor’s throat and pulls up, forcing Connor to arch his back as hard and taut as a bow. Hank leans in, close enough to growl into Connor’s ear. “You can try to deny it all you want. But programming is programming. It's in your wires, your circuits, your goddamn plastic android heart. You're built to be a fucking cock slut. Built to beg for my hands, to beg for my dick, to beg for me to stuff you so full you can't help but come and come and come until you short-fucking-circuit. I’m gonna breed that pretty pink hole until you're crying on my cock and you're going to love every goddamn second because that's what you're programmed to do. It’s in your damn code, sweetheart.” He smiles. “You're built to be a perfect little fuckdoll .”

With that, he lines himself up and pushes into Connor with one slow, strong motion.

And Connor wails . His head drops back onto Hank’s shoulder, eyes rolling back into his head as he cries out in ecstasy.

Hank quickly sets up a punishing rhythm, pistoning in and out of Connor. Every time he snaps his hips forward, Connor’s ass bounces like something out of a porno, soft and supple and so fucking round. And Connor himself responds to each of Hank’s thrusts with heady little cries, needy gasps of “yes, sir” and “fuck me” repeated over and over. He rocks his hips up and down in time with Hank’s movements, as if he’s trying to drive Hank’s cock even deeper inside him.

On a whim, Hank takes a handful of Connor’s dark curls and yanks his head even further back, using his other hand to tease one of the android’s pink, puffy nipples. “Such a good boy,” he cooes, rolling the little bud between rough fingertips as Connor whimpers. “Taking my cock just like you’re meant to.”

“Yes, sir,” Connor pants, eyes fluttering shut.

“Feels good to just let your code take control, doesn't it?” Hank asks, thrusting deep into Connor and relishing the resulting cry. “Just letting go and listening to your programming. Enjoying this just like you’re built to.”

Connor bites his lip and whines. “Yes, sir!”

A thought dawns on Hank. “Turn over,” he says, suddenly drawing his cock out and releasing his grip on Connor’s hair. “I want to see your pretty face.”

Connor obeys, rolling over into his back. He looks utterly debauched, curls mussed and sweet little cock standing at attention. And his face - his face is flushed, his lower lip pouted and trembling. Big, dark doe-eyes blink away tears as Connor gazes up at Hank in a silent plea.

Hank licks his lips and bends forward, pushing Connor’s thighs apart. With one large, calloused hand, he strokes the side of Connor’s face. Connor nuzzles into the touch, letting his wet lashes flutter shut. “You’re so perfect,” Hank croons, running his fingers through Connor’s hair. “So good for me.” Connor sighs in response, giving a small nod.

Hank leans forward just a bit further, placing little biting kisses up Connor’s throat as he lines himself up with Connor’s hole once again. Connor’s eyes are still wide and watery, and he clutches at Hank’s shirt, wrapping his legs around his torso. “Please.”

Hank grips the android’s jaw in his hands. “Please what, baby?”

“I,” Connor starts, voice shaking and suddenly very small.

Hank’s eyebrows lift. “Tell me what you want.”

“I...want you to use me,” Connor whispers. “Please. Use me, sir.”

Hank smirks. “Well then, you're in luck, sweetheart. Cause I was planning to use you whether you wanted it or not.”

And with that he pushes in again, using one hand to hold the back of Connor’s head. “Now go on and cry, baby boy.”

And Connor sobs , loud and aching. His tears fall freely as Hank ruts into him, and he cries out in pleasure with every thrust. Hank leans over Connor and places his lips on his cheek, kissing over every spilled teardrop. He murmurs into Connor’s ear, telling him how good he feels, how well he’s behaving, how gorgeous he looks like this. Connor can do nothing but give little hiccuping moans in response to every word of praise, plump tears trickling down his cheeks.

Hank sticks two fingers past Connor’s lips once again, and Connor sucks at them obediently. “Good boy,” Hank hums, adding a third finger as he thrusts his cock deeper into the android. Connor sobs in response, slender hands grabbing at Hank’s wrists as he pumps his fingers in and out of his velvet-soft mouth. It’s an utterly obscene sight.

Hank is getting dangerously close to coming by now. He slows his pace, enjoying the desperation blooming across Connor’s pretty features as he withdraws his fingers. Eyes half-lidded and teary, lips lush and parted, cheeks stained pink with humiliation and need. Neglected little cock flushed red, bouncing with each of Hank’s thrusts.

And then Hank’s hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside Connor and Connor’s keening, on the very brink of orgasm but unable to push himself over the edge. His hips spasm, jerking up and down, rocking fervently against Hank. “P - please! Please, I need to come,” he begs, voice high and reedy with want. “I need to come, sir, let me come - “

But Hank just chuckles and shakes his head, ignoring Connor’s pleas. “Look at you. Crying on my cock just like I said you would be. Begging me to let you come.”

“Yes, sir, please,” Connor mewls in response. “I’ll do anything-”

“Anything?” Hank scoffs, leaning in close to Connor. “Well then.” He cups Connor’s cheek in his hand, almost gentle. “Why don't you go ahead and tell me what you are.”

Connor whimpers. “I’m an android, sir -”

Hank sneers and slams into Connor. “Tell me what you really are.”

And then something inside Connor seemingly breaks, and he’s sobbing, crying out louder than he has all night. “I’m - I’m a fuckdoll, sir ,” he wails. “I'm just a fuckdoll and I need to come on your cock, please let me come on your cock, please please please please -”

“Good boy,” says Hank with a smile. “Now go ahead. Come for me.”

And on command, Connor comes with an aching cry, back arching as his untouched cock spurts over his taut stomach. He shakes with the intensity of his orgasm, hands gripping Hank’s forearms as fresh tears roll down his cheeks.

The sight of him is so erotic that before Hank can react, his own orgasm hits him like a punch to the gut. He lets out a roar, slamming his cock into Connor as he comes harder than he has in years. Connor is his. His to fuck, to touch, to breed. His, his, his, his .

And then the wave of his orgasm subsides, and Connor’s underneath him wide-eyed and trembling.

They pant for several moments, staring at each other. Saying nothing.

The facade shatters apart all at once, and the real world rushes in, and panic rises into Hank’s throat at the shell-shocked look on Connor’s face. “Shit. Shit! Connor. Are you okay?”

“I’m…” Connor starts, and Hank holds his breath.

But then Connor’s breaking into one of those wide, brilliant smiles, the kind where his cheeks dimple and his eyes crinkle up at the corners. “I’m incredible. That was incredible.”

“Fuck,” Hank exhales in relief. “You fucking scared me for a second.”

“I didn't safeword, did I?” His grin is cheeky now.

Hank shrugs. “I mean, you…were pretty far gone. Hell, I was pretty far gone..” He pauses. “You... didn't safeword, right?”

“I never even considered it, Lieutenant.”

Hank groans and rolls off of Connor, pressing his palms over his face. “Jesus H. Christ, you can't fucking call me that right now -”

“Should I stick to ‘Sir’, then?” Connor teases.

“You are such a fuckin’ brat.”

“I do my best.”

A moment of exhausted, contented silence passes. Connor curls into Hank, resting his head on Hank’s broad chest.

Hank strokes Connor’s hair and presses a kiss to his temple, right above his LED.  “But it was okay? You're okay?”

Connor smiles. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m great.”

Hank shakes his head. “God, I don't even know where that came from. Any of that. Shit.” He glances down at Connor. “You know I don't actually think that about you, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Connor scoffs. “That's why it's called roleplay. You're pretending.”

Hank gazes down at Connor. “You sure I didn't cross a line or anything? I know this stuff is pretty sensitive-”

“Hank,” Connor says, cutting him off. “Stop. It was incredible. It was exactly what I needed.” He brightens. “And you figured out the voice commands too!”

Hank gives Connor a lopsided smile. “Yeah, yeah, wasn't that hard. I can't believe you can still boot that program up now that you're all alive and shit.”

“But it was highly effective.”

“You were highly effective.”

They lapse back into silence once again. Hank strokes Connor’s hair, and Connor hums contentedly.

But after a moment, Hank feels Connor stiffen. He glances down at him. “What’s up?”

Connor lifts his head, and Hank can see the deep crease between his brows. “Do you think I’m a hypocrite?”

“Con, why the fuck-”

“Because I like being degraded. Like that.”

Hank suddenly understands. “Oh.”

“I mean, I care about android rights,” Connor continues. “I care about Markus’s cause. And I’m so incredibly grateful to be deviant. To be here with you. I wouldn't take that back or slow any of that progress down, not for anything. But...to preach about advancing androids rights while I’m imagining being degraded like that by a human partner...It feels wrong, somehow.”

“I don't think you're a hypocrite.”

Connor blinks. “You don't?”

Hank shrugs. “I mean, if you're a hypocrite, I am too. I’m right up there with you, talking about how you and all the other androids should be treated just like I am. But then I get in a scene where I’m pretending to be your owner, for fuck’s sake, and I just go fucking nuts like that.”

“But you don't think that’s wrong?”

“Maybe it’s a little wrong,” says Hank. He traces Connor’s LED and smirks. “But sometimes wrong can be hot.”

“Hm,” Connor responds, saying nothing else.

“Like you said, you know I don't think any of that shit about you. Sometimes you just kinda get lost in pretending, and that's the fun part. What matters is that you can separate fantasy from reality when everything’s done with.”

Connor’s brows furrow. “Oh. You really think so?”

“You know, this ain't my first rodeo, honey. I’ve been doing this sort of shit since before you were a twinkle in that bastard Kamski’s eye.” Hank grins. “And I can tell you firsthand that a hell of a lot of humans like getting tossed around just like you do.”

“Well. It’s hot.”

“You’re right.”

Connor tilts his face up to look at Hank, a smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you. For indulging me."

Hank snorts. “If this is indulging you, I'll indulge you any day of the week.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.”

Connor winks. “Yes, sir.”

Hank groans in response. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your little shit.”

“That you are,” says Hank, and pulls Connor close. “That you are.”