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Quiet fumbling. A slip of the door key and an eager burst through the threshold. They are a whirlwind of entangled limbs and balmy kisses. Shucking coats and unclasping buttons. Hank hardly thinks to kick the door shut behind them, lest some unsuspecting onlooker happens to get a peek inside their room. The one that Connor had booked on the night of his official policeman's swear in ceremony. A king suite with a riverfront view like the sappy romantic that he is. Hank would have easily just taken him in the parking lot back at city hall if he would have asked nicely, having been itching to get his hands on the android all night. All thanks to the uniform which fits him like a glove and his subtle little smirks from across the room.
Now that he’s got him, it’s all Hank can do not to take him like some mindless, feral animal. He gets Connor halfway undressed and perched on the edge of a large bed. Hardly unclothed himself given the feverish manner in which they entered. He shucks his pants out of the way, shoves Connor’s down over the seam of his round, supple ass and sinks in to the root. The android keens. Still fumbling with his shirt buttons like the fabric offends him. His tie long gone in a puddle somewhere throughout the room. The only light they had given the time of evening was a dim bedside glow and the moonlight from an open window. Glittering on the river down below and quiet street lamps dotting the ground outside.
Connor paws at him, eagerly as if trying to get the older man’s attention. Hank lets his hips pause, still buried to the hilt in Connor’s ass.
The android fumbles with his shirt.
“I need this off-“ he rasps. Hank growls and hungrily lifts Connor with a large hand at his throat, just under the jaw. Pulling him back for a heated kiss. The android arches beautifully, straining to return the favor with a chorus of sloppy, wet smacks between them as Hank busies his free hand with the task of sliding Connor’s shirt off his shoulder. Rocking his hips in a manner that has Connor whimpering against him softly.
Free from the confines of his dress shirt, Connor now scrambles again for purchase on the edge of the mattress where Hank drops him. Devoting his attention back to the task of driving into Connor with a series of forceful thrusts. There’s still the issue of Connor’s uniform pants being somewhat in the way. His belt clinks and his knees can’t be pushed apart very much further without stressing the waistline, but something about his state of half dress seems to drive the older man a little crazy. Like the bold contrast of Connor’s ivory freckled synthskin against the dark sturdy fabric, how his ass is perfectly on display where Hank fucks it in a haste- as has been the theme since they stepped through door and fell against the bed. He frames his hips between his meaty palms and drags out another deep, heavy thrust. One that has Connor singing.
“Yes, yes, Hank-!”
He takes Connor by the throat again, enlivened to hear his name fall from such pretty lips in a half choked out attempt. He warms the gentle mound of Connor’s asscheek- because spanking has to be approached with careful consideration anymore, but that’s perfectly fine. More than okay, even. Connor needs a warning and Hank is more than happy to give it to him before he rears back his palm and gives a firm slap. One that echoes in the room and earns him a wet gasp.
“Say it again,” he demands, voice rough and gravelly in his throat. He gives Connor every inch of his dick in a tortuous thrust. The android practically sobs.
“Hank-!”
Hank squeezes this time, softly- reassuringly- then spanks him again.
“Good boy,” he coos. Connor sighs into a contented hum, eyes closed and his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth in a blissed out sort of expression. Canting his hips and rocking back to meet Hank’s thrusts. A gorgeous bow in his back that Hank admires as he counts the freckles down the length of his spine all the way to his tailbone.
What would be a tailbone, anyway. Connor doesn’t have actual bones, but he’s built solid and strong. Handcrafted with care. Hank drags a hand across the expanse of him adoringly.
Connor once more shoves at the fabric of his uniform trousers, huffing like he’s frustrated.
“I need-“
Hank pulls back this time, tired already of the idea of clothes in general.
“I got you, baby. Here-“
He flips the android on his back and assists him in removing his pants. Connor kicks his legs eagerly and comes up once the fabric’s gone to reversely help Hank out of his own shirt. Tearing it off of him in a feverish rush to feel the heated skin underneath as their lips find each other once more. Hank struggles to get out his pants respectively before he straightens again.
Connor teases with his tongue. Tangling his hands in silver hair, the older man gropes his ass again and wraps an arm around his torso. Lifting the android unceremoniously and pushing him back once more. This time entwined in long, lanky limbs that cling to him like coiled vines.
He spins Connor back around and lays him out onto the fine threads of a white comforter. The fabric dimples around his delicate frame and wrinkles beneath him as he writhes. Taking Hank once more in a single slide that all but sends him home. He sighs. Melts into the mattress. Hank almost wishes he could see that dick-dazed look on his face, but Connor’s always favored this position. That’s why he’s so quick to return to it. Both hands on Connor’s narrow waist, bringing him back to meet each slap of his hips. Closer this time, with Hank fully on the bed and their thighs practically married. Connor’s temple light is working overtime as it continuously flutters, his skin receding around the areas of impact in glowing blue ripples.
He becomes a mess of breathless chants. Hank strokes his back lovingly. Pressure building in his groin. He groans, deep in his chest like rolling thunder.
“Please, please, please!” Connor cries. He’s got flashes of system warnings flooding his blinded vision. Every little sensor in his being is sparking and ablaze, thrumming as Hank pounds ruthlessly against him.
And Hank’s such a sucker for begging that he slides a hand beneath the android, awarding him with a few gracious tugs on his weeping length. He’s got Connor practically screaming. Surely disturbing any neighboring suites- really, he wouldn’t be surprised if they got a noise complaint after tonight. Hell, they might even be banned from the hotel. Hank doesn’t care. He’s got tunnel vision at this point. Mind set of sending Connor well past the edge and then some. A feat not very far fetched given how Connor opens his hips and takes it. Mouth agape. Heavy lashes. His hand shoots down to meet Hank’s. Iron grip on his wrist as his frame begins to shake.
“C’mon, baby,” Hank enthuses. Connor buries his face into the sheets and spills. Hot and sticky, thighs trembling.
They’ll have to remember to pull the top sheet off before they go to bed. Hank’s not too concerned about it. He’s zeroed in on chasing his own release now that Connor’s gone limp. Flashing red and whimpering against the continued assault on his hole.
“Hank-” he chokes. The older man doesn’t cease. He looks down with a heated gaze and hums another deep rumble from his chest.
“Lemme ride you-” Connor slurs. Hank stops this time. Staring down with a hunger in his eyes.
Yes. Fuck, yes, he thinks. He slips out and falls gracelessly, with Connor scrambling to rise. His legs spread like butter over the other man’s hips. Hank drags a pair of worshiping hands over the expanse of his thighs. Sighing as Conner slides down on his cock. Seamlessly impaling himself with a contented little sigh.
Hank can’t help but to think just how gorgeous he looks as those brown eyes flash his way. Lips parted in ecstasy. City lights shimmering across his skin as they peek in from the window. A vision to behold.
And he’s all Hank’s. Every effortless little piece of him. Connor rocks those delicate hips and simultaneously rocks Hank’s entire world. Two hands on his chest, stroking the intricate pattern of his tattoo. Hank meets his thrusts, admiring the breathy sounds he punches out because his world didn’t stop when he hit rock bottom. Connor pulled him up and taught him what it meant to be alive again.
He runs a messy hand through his hair, heart pounding. Heat coiling. Connor throws his head back and moans so pretty it nearly sends Hank over the edge. His skin is a kaleidoscope of electric blue, following Hank’s touch wherever it goes. Exposing the alabaster shell of Connor’s chassis in brief patches. His temple light a constant flicker of red and his fans whirring deep from within his core.
He’s close again. This time, Hank wants to join him. He takes hold of Connor’s waist and bounces him in his lap. Earning high praise from the high pitched mewls that Connor emits. He comes again with a glitched out noise and a full body shiver. Hank drives up into him with a deep seated groan. Stalling his hips as pleasure throbs and ebbs with his release. Teeth in his bottom lip, ears ringing.
Connor collapses. Hot to the touch and his fans hard at work to keep him cool. He simulates breathing to compensate. Hank merely peppers him in kisses. Happy just to lie there and dissipate into the bed sheets.
Eventually they find the energy to move to the bathroom. There’s a wide shower that they manage to navigate. Rinsing off and dressing for the night. Hank returns to bed first, in his police academy hoodie. flipping through the channels on the widescreen before he settles on an NCIS rerun. Volume low and subtitles on.
Connor comes padding out dressed in a simple long sleeve and tapered sweats. He climbs into bed, looking soft and pliant as he nuzzles up next to Hank. There’s always an undertone of something artificial under any shampoo or cologne he uses. Like shiny plastic. Something not at all off putting, just noticeable. Just Connor.
He rests his head over Hank’s chest, tracing mindless patterns with his fingertip. Hank winds an arm around him similarly. Holding him close.
“Have you seen the new legislation that just passed? Humans can now marry androids,” Connor softly murmurs. As if stating a fun fact. Hank has his eyes closed, one arm folded behind his head. He smiles.
“You sayin’ we should get hitched?”
It’s meant to be teasing, but Connor’s stone cold silence speaks volumes.
His eyes shoot open, his heart jumps into his throat.
“Holy shit, are you?”
Connor shrinks against him.
“I’m.. Not opposed to the idea..”
“Connor..”
The android recovers quickly, his hand curling over the older man’s sternum as he speaks. “I understand it’s a rather big jump in our relationship, but.. It’s legal now, and I-“
Hank pulls that arm out from under his head and pinches his nose. Trying to refrain from coming off as defensive or unwilling. “Connor. We gotta have a serious conversation if you’re actually considering that. One that I don’t think you’re ready to have.”
“What do you mean?” Connor asks in a small voice.
Hank sighs. He drops that hand again, this time folding it over the one on his chest. “Baby, I’m in my fifties. That means you get about ten more years left of me being able to keep up with you in the bedroom and otherwise.”
Connor looks up. “We don’t need to have sex in order for our relationship to be fulfilling to me,” he says, like he’s prepared for this argument a dozen times over in his own head. But he’s not getting it.
“I understand that, but I’m just saying. I’m human. I’m gonna grow old- well, older- and eventually I’m gonna die.”
This alone makes the android recoil. His temple flashes to an unsteady yellow and he curls back against the older man as if the statement pains him- Hank knows it does- that’s why it needs to be said.
“Hank-“
“See? But we need to talk about this,” Hank argues. “I won’t be here forever. I don’t wanna be. I wanna see my son again. I’ll put that off for as long as I can- for you- but it’s gonna happen.”
Connor’s clearly upset, more focused on the thread count of Hank’s shirt than he is for their present conversation. “I don't see why this discussion is relevant.”
Hank lifts his chin. Those big brown eyes meet his contrasting baby blues with a glassy sheen.
“Because I don’t want you to be tied down. You’re still so young. So new. I want you to have options and experiences without being held back by something that’s one day just gonna be a very distant memory.”
Connor shrivels against him, his entire frame tremors in tiny shakes.
Hank continues solemnly. “I want you to go places, meet new people. Don’t settle for some old bag like me just because they updated the fuckin’ constitution,” he says, shaking his head. The last thing he ever wanted was to be Connor’s only experience. Not when he deserves the very freedom he fought for and then some.
“You’re not holding me back,” Connor objects, in a tightly constricted voice. But he’s been through so much in the past year that Hank has a bit of difficulty believing him.
“Okay, but-“
“And I want to experience all of those things. With you. While I still can,” Connor adds. Hank strokes his cheek, weathered hand over porcelain skin. Every fine line and meticulous freckle ingrained his mind, not even the glow from the television can drown it out.
“Connor, I don’t want your world to stop when I finally croak. I want you to move on,” Hank says. Voice a somber ache in his chest.
Connor closes his eyes, because he knows too, that it’s inevitable. He will live, young forever- or as long as his battery survives- and Hank will grow old and expire eventually. A cruel flaw woven into the fabric of their relationship. A short rope that ties them together, if only by a fleeting thread.
“Hank..”
“You have to. Put it in your vows. You will have a life after me,” Hank urges- no. He demands. If he’s going to go, then he needs to go knowing that Connor will not spend the rest of eternity mourning him. He can take being a pleasant memory if it means that Connor moves on and lives life unheeded. Free as a bird, no strings attached.
But for Connor, the idea of greatly out living the one person who’s taught him how to live is almost too much to bear. When he thinks back on the very short amount of time he’s already been alive, he can calculate that well over ninety percent of that has been shared with Hank. So, imagining a day in which that’s taken from him hurts more deeply than any other sadness he’s ever felt.
He looks at the older man, heart stricken and distraught.
“I’ll never fall in love again,” he whispers, strained and raspy. Fighting back tears. Nothing will ever amount to what he feels for Hank, this much is certain. The older man just smiles, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes, soft and bittersweet.
“That’s the best part about love, Con.. It finds you when you least expect it to,” he murmurs, cupping the android’s cheek now. He understands it may be hard to believe, and it’s not that he wants Connor to up and find someone out of the blue, he just wants him to be open to the idea of it. Hank spent his entire life alone until he met his wife, and thought he’d die the same way- and was content to do so- after they divorced. Then he met Connor, and everything changed.
But he gets it. After Connor, he wouldn’t want anyone else. He would die alone.
So, he quietly reassures him. “Baby, you don’t have to find love again. Just promise me that when I’m gone, you’ll continue to live.”
Connor’s eyes swell up with tears. His bottom lip trembles.
“Promise me,” Hank urges, softly but firmly, because it’s important.
Connor can only manage a tiny nod. Hank wipes with his thumb the single tear that escapes him.
“Okay. Then yes, Connor. I will marry you,” Hank says finally. Watching the stars light up behind those auburn eyes.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
A searing kiss smashes against his lips suddenly. Hank hardly has time to process the motion before he’s reciprocating, grinning against it as his heart simultaneously soars in his chest.
Connor pulls back, his cheeks are wet and his skin is aglow from a mix of streetlights outside and the forgotten rerun in the background. Hank just shakes his head. He’s said it once, he’ll say it again.
“You’re fuckin’ spoiled, you know that? Completely fuckin’ rotten.”
A giddy laugh bubbles up and spills from the android’s lips.
“Seriously, I said I’d never do it again,” Hank continues. Happily bemused. He just got engaged, holy fuck.
“I feel like laughing and crying at the same time,” Connor breathes. Evidently shaking with the adrenaline and unbridled joy thrumming in his sensors beneath his plastic panels.
“I dunno why,” Hank teases. “Now you’re really stuck with me.”
“I’m happy,” Connor smiles. Crashing into the older man in a warm embrace. “This is happy,” he says, like he’s only just discovered the emotion or the true meaning of the word.
And, Hank thinks, with the swell in his chest and the warmth melting over his heart.
Maybe he has too.