Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You what?”

Connor smiles. Hank can be quite thick sometimes.

“I believe you heard me just fine.”

“I-I guess I did, but… why?”

“I would like to experience sex for the first time with someone who I trust.”

Hank blinks at him, apparently still confused. Connor knows exactly how to manipulate him to do what he wants; the prompts neatly pop up on his HUD. Puppy eyes. Shoulder touch. Repeat that Connor trusts him.

Connor dismisses all of them. As much as he’d like to get Hank onboard, he doesn’t want to manipulate him into it. It would remind him too much of the android he was before. The deviant hunter. He tries to be better than that, for everyone’s sake.

“Can’t you just… download a program that makes you a sex god?”

“Experiencing it is different than just downloading a program.”

“Then why don’t you just find another android?” Hank asks. “Like North. She seems like a nice girl.”

North is anything but a nice girl. Despite this, Hank developed a strange fondness towards her the first time they met, when North threatened him that she will ‘rip his eyes out of their sockets and force them down his throat, asshole’ if Hank even thinks about hurting Connor.

“North has better things to do. But maybe I will find an android later,” Connor says. “But I want to try it with you.”

“And couldn’t you find a better candidate, than my old ass?”

“You’re middle-aged.”

“Than my middle-aged ass?”

“Hank, as I said, I trust you with this. No need to try to prove to me you’re unsuitable. But if you don’t want to do it, just tell me; it’s okay. It was merely a suggestion.”

Hank huffs and waves dismissively. He goes to the kitchen to open the fridge, only to let out a sad sigh and close it again. There aren’t any beers in there anymore, which makes Connor satisfied. He updates his task about Hank’s sobriety with this new information.

Connor watches patiently as Hank paces in the kitchen, agitated, running his fingers through his hair. Hank has nice hair, and Connor wonders how it would feel to card his own fingers through it.

After 21.4 seconds, Hank stops and turns to face him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Hank sighs and steps a little closer. “How exactly do you want to do this?”

“I don’t have genitalia.”

This takes Hank aback a little, but he only lets out a hum. “What do you have then?”

“I’ve read that touching some of the connection ports can simulate impulses that resemble pleasure.”

“Huh.”

Connor notices a spike in Hank’s heartbeat. He decides to turn off the process that tracks his vitals in real-time, because one, he finds it intrusive in this situation, and two, Hank repeatedly told him not to ‘monitor his fucking vitals’, and expressed his opinion about it being ‘fucking creepy’. Unfortunately for him, Connor can’t help himself most of the time. He wants to know if there’s something wrong with Hank.

“Can I kiss you?” Connor asks patiently.

Hank lets out a breath. “Yeah.”

Connor steps closer, with intent, and places his mouth on Hank’s.

Hank kisses him back, carefully and slowly. One of his hands comes up to cup Connor’s cheek, to guide him. It’s large and warm, and it makes Connor’s sensors tingle pleasantly.

Connor opens his mouth, and suddenly a burst of data floods his processors, of the chemical components of Hank’s saliva. He turns down this process as well, and focuses on the slide of Hank’s tongue in his mouth, the touch of his hands.

It’s… nice. He stores the association in his database.

He reaches up to comb his fingers through Hank’s hair. He finds that it’s just as soft as he thought it would be and it still smells a little like shampoo. Did he wash it right before they met up in the afternoon?

When they part, Connor reaches up to stroke Hank’s cheek, his fingers scratching Hank’s beard. He’s handsome. It is a fact that Connor is well aware of by now, seven months of data on his exact facial features, his expressions, carefully organized and categorized in his storage.

“Take me to bed,” Connor whispers, and to his relief, Hank complies.

When they get to the bedroom, Connor grabs Hank by his shirt and kisses him again, eagerly. Hank makes a little surprised noise, but he’s quick to draw Connor closer. He decides, he really likes kissing. And the feeling of Hank’s warm hands touching his body. And especially when these two happen at the same time.

Thick fingers start unbuttoning Connor’s shirt, and he’s happy to get out of it and throw it away. Hank smooths his palms over his bare sides. The warmth of Hank’s big, calloused hands seeps under Connor’s skin.

Still kissing, Connor tugs on Hank’s tee, but Hank stops him.

“This should stay on.”

“Hank.” Connor sneaks a hand under the tee and feels Hank shiver a little at the touch. “I want to see you.”

This time, he uses a little bit of those puppy eyes, he can’t help himself. Human bodies fascinate him, and if this would be his only hands-on experience, he will take it.

Finally, Hank surrenders with a sigh that indicates there’s no use in arguing with Connor, and removes the unnecessary piece of clothing.

Connor has seen glimpses of Hank before, but the whole picture is something else. Connor takes a moment to categorize every little detail of Hank’s skin. He runs his fingers through the gray hair dusting Hank’s chest, traces the shape of his tattoo, and touches every scar.

“You’re so interesting.”

Hank huffs. “You mean fat and ugly?”

“No.” Connor frowns but doesn’t take his eyes off of Hank’s chest. “Your skin is like a book. It tells a story about who you are and what you went through.”

“Huh.”

Suddenly, a strange urge flares up in Connor that makes him lick Hank’s chest. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to resist these weird urges anymore.

“Oh god, please tell me you’re not going to analyze that,” Hank chuckles.

“I have already turned off my oral analyzing process. I just wanted to.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Hank says fondly.

“Lie down, please.”

Hank obeys beautifully, and Connor climbs on top of him, returning back to kissing.

He still enjoys kissing. He also enjoys having Hank’s big, warm body underneath him. And touching him everywhere he reaches. He caresses Hank’s face, touches his soft sides, and squeezes Hank’s pectorals for good measure, which makes Hank hum into his mouth.

To Connor’s slight disappointment, Hank breaks the kiss. “Show me where those ports are.”

“I’ve read that the neck port is one of the most sensitive ones.” Connor grabs Hank’s hand and guides it to the back of his neck. “Do you feel the opening?”

“Yeah. But what do I do?”

“Just pull on a wire here.” Connor hesitates. “I’m not exactly sure how it works.”

“Okay. Do you mind turning around? I can’t see shit like this and I don’t wanna hurt you.”

A smile tugs the corner of Connor’s mouth; this is exactly why he insisted on having his first time with Hank. “You cannot damage me accidentally, don’t worry about it.”

Connor rolls off of Hank, while he hears Hank mumble ‘Don’t worry about it, he says’. For some reason it makes Connor smile. He knows that Hank cares about him; he was the first one who really did, even if he denied it back then. He knows he will never have another friend like Hank in his life, and it fills him with a feeling he recognizes as affection.

Quickly analyzing some possible outcomes of this encounter, Connor decides to discard his pants. He’s not sure how much overheating he’s going to face by the end of this, and he better leave his cooling system as free as possible.

When Connor looks back at Hank, Hank is staring back at him. Or more likely, his torso. Connor wonders if there’s maybe something wrong with his chest. He looks down to check. Sure, there’s a faint circle where his thirium pump regulator is located, but otherwise, he looks just like a human.

Also, Hank has already seen him shirtless. Connor is extremely confused.

“Is there anything wrong with my chest?” he asks at last, which gets Hank to look back at Connor’s face, blushing a little.

Hank shakes his head. “No, of course not. I was just… wondering if your nipples are sensitive?”

“Oh!” Connor looks at his own chest again. “No, they are purely decorative.”

Hank clears his throat. “Um, okay, cool.” He sits up with his back to the headboard. “Come here.”

Connor obediently sits between Hank’s legs. He’s not nervous per se, but there’s a sort of anticipation coursing through his wires.

Hank puts his warm hands on Connor’s back, and Connor files away a reassurance that yes, he does enjoy being touched like this. He registers Hank circling the port with his thumb, and it makes a pleasant buzz run through him. He hums, smiling.

“This feels pleasant, Hank.”

“You like this?”

Oh, that he does. But he can’t help wanting more, something that rocks his world.

Connor spent hours researching the subject of intercourse, trying to figure out the appeal of it. Of course, he had basic information about what it was, but for some reason, he never thought about trying it until he accidentally got transmitted a memory of North, about her and Markus being affectionate with each other two days ago.

So he read up about it on the internet, checked out android-specific forums on the topic, and even hacked himself into a pornography site, claiming he's over eighteen (he’s not even a year old), and he’s not a robot (he’s an android).

“You can be more direct,” he tells Hank. “Do you see the wires?”

Hank hums. “So, do I just pull-“

“Ah!” The intensity of the electric shock catches Connor completely off-guard, heat coursing through his body. It threatens to overwhelm his processors, and his fans speed up, trying to make him regain his normal temperature.

Hank withdraws his hand quickly. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yes!” He squeezes Hank’s knee reassuringly. “Do it again!”

“If you say so,” Hank mumbles and touches his fingertips to the neck port again. More carefully than before, he pinches a wire between two of his thick fingers.

Connor keens as the impulse runs through him once again, less shocking and sudden, but no less thrilling. He feels… he can’t describe how it feels as he’s never felt like this before, but oh, he wants to feel like this again.

With every careful touch of Hank’s fingers, Connor loses control of his body more and more. He registers gripping Hank’s thighs, but he can’t let them go, his voice box makes weird, glitchy noises that are probably off-putting, but-

“Fuck, you enjoy this, don’t you?” Hank chuckles, and despite not seeing him, Connor knows the exact expression on his face, that amused half smile that makes him look younger.

“Very mu-“ Connor’s voice glitches again as another impulse hits him.

He feels Hank’s warm hand sneaking around his torso and pulling him back, flush to Hank’s chest. The hot touch, skin on skin is a lot, and Connor’s vision blinks out for a moment.

“Want more?” Hank whispers into his ear, and he shudders at the dark tone, surprising even himself with the involuntary reaction.

“Yes,” he moans, and the next moment he’s pulled into a hot kiss.

Connor returns the kiss more than eagerly, and oh. Why haven’t they done this before? They could’ve done this all the time! His processors stutter, and the thought process evaporates without a reasonable answer.

A firmer pull on his wires sends him glitching out again, and he accidentally bites Hank’s lips.

Hank pulls away a bit, and Connor tries to follow his lips like he’s pulled in by Hank’s gravity. Hank smirks at him, face rosy, eyes dark. “So eager, are we?”

Connor can’t help himself, his voice box lets out another weird noise, as he leans forward and captures Hank’s lips once again. The kiss doesn’t last long, because Hank pulls on a wire in earnest, and Connor shudders violently.

“God, Connor,” Hank groans, and Connor saves the sound in his database. “Never thought I’d see you this wrecked.”

Hank kisses his LED then, that’s no doubt spinning bright red. The touch is gentle, but it just makes Connor crave for more.

“Hank, please!”

“Please what? You want more?”

“Yes,” he whimpers and he watches a warning about overheating popping up on his HUD.

“I can see that,” Hank notes. “Look at you, such a pretty sight.”

Connor wants to say something, maybe tell Hank that he might be close, or beg for even more, but the only sound that escapes his voice box is something garbled.

There’s a hot touch on Connor’s cheek, then thick fingers move to trace the shape of his mouth. He obediently opens it to taste Hank on his tongue, and the flood of data is back, unstoppable and overwhelming (didn’t he turn off his oral processing earlier?). Connor’s processors start lagging, his fans struggle to keep cooling down his body, and more red warnings pop up on his HUD.

He swirls his tongue around Hank’s fingers, making Hank moan into his ear, then an overwhelming impulse hits him, and the world goes dark.

Connor is awakened by warm hands shaking him.

He has to blink a few times and wait 4.7 seconds for all his processes to start running again. He runs a quick system check just in case (he’s overheated, but otherwise everything is in working order).

“Oh, thank god, I thought you died for a moment,” Hank says as his relieved face comes to focus. “You just turned off!”

Connor thinks he might have died for a moment indeed, but only from bliss. He smiles, still a little out of it.

“Told you, you can’t break me. I just overheated,” he explains, while he creates a task to recalibrate his settings later, in case a similar scenario happens again. He… hopes it will happen again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it might happen. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hank waves dismissively. “Eh, it’s fine.”

“But it was very pleasurable, Hank. I enjoyed having sex with you.”

A flush spreads across Hank’s cheeks. Blushing is one of those things that Connor is incapable of, but he finds it endearing.

Hank clears his throat. “I’m glad it wasn’t bad.”

“It wasn’t!” Connor grins, then his sensors pick up something. The process that tracks Hank’s vitals restarted with his reboot, and now it picks up on Hank’s slight arousal. Connor looks down to see his pants bulging.

“Do you need a hand, or-“

Hank startles spectacularly, jumping out of the bed. “N-no, no, I’m fine!” he says, then runs out of the bedroom.

Chapter Text

Hank’s seen many android couples and even human-android couples since the revolution, but somehow he forgot to think of Connor’s romantic prospects. In his defense, Connor’s never really shown interest in other androids (or humans), although Hank can’t be totally sure. Since Connor moved to his own place a few months back, there are days when they don’t even see each other, but Hank likes to think that Connor would share such an important thing with him.

Now, he feels a bit weird when he thinks about said romantic prospects, but he writes it off as being concerned for his friend. That’s normal, right? Connor is still in the process of discovering himself, and Hank is just a friend who cares.

Furthermore, if he had any questions if Connor could even enjoy sex, that evaporated with their little… fuck, he doesn’t even know what to call it. Hookup? Experiment? Accident? Because the noises Connor made when Hank touched his wires now live rent-free in his head, and the memory of his hot touch, the slide of his tongue pops up in the most inconvenient times. Like when Connor licks things for analysis. And popping a boner at a crime scene would be inconvenient as fuck.

But it’s fine; it’s not like Connor would want anything from him anyway, besides their friendship. Oh, and it’s not like Hank would think… that’s just stupid.

In the upcoming weeks, Connor goes on several dates with other androids.

Hank hears all about them. There’s a Maggie and a Colin and an Annabelle, and Hank is not sure anymore if he wants to know about the others, but he’s trying to be supportive. After all, he likes witnessing when Connor discovers new things about himself, things he’s never supposed to have in the first place. His love for all kinds of animals, his taste in music (sadly not melodic metalcore), and well, now his sexuality.

But isn’t this just what he wanted when he told Connor to go out and meet other people? To free him from only caring about Hank? After all this time, Hank’s aware that Connor cares about him the most – even if he has way cooler friends than him, – and it can be a little overwhelming. Hank likes to act as if it bothers him, grunting and huffing about it, but secretly he’s grateful for Connor’s friendship. But it would be selfish to crave all of Connor’s attention when there are many others who deserve it much more than Hank.

It’s well in the afternoon, but Hank and Connor are still stuck in the bullpen, waiting for some lab results for their latest case. Connor has a date with some android guy (Jasper? Or Jason?), whom he allegedly met at one of his Jericho outings, in half an hour, and he’s antsy. It wouldn’t be obvious for a casual observer, but Hank knows Connor well enough now. Even though his face is neutral, his legs are bouncing impatiently under the table, his hands fidgeting with the stress ball Hank gave him. It’s dog-shaped.

Hank gets enough of this soon enough.

“Connor, you can go, I’ll wait for the results and finish up the paperwork.”

Connor perks up at this. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” he admits, a little self-deprecating, but true nonetheless.

Connor frowns, then starts fussing with his hair. “Do I look okay?”

“You always look perfect,” Hank blurts out before he thinks about it. Uh, fuck. He feels the heat creeping up on his neck. “I-I mean you androids always look so put together, and-“

Ugh, now the bastard is smiling wide, and Hank wants to sink into the ground.

“Just go, before I change my mind!”

Connor’s smile gets even wider if that’s possible. “Thank you, Hank.”

Hank just waves him off dismissively. “Have fun!”

He watches Connor leave, and wills away the strange feeling in his stomach.

It’s half past seven when Hank finally gets home. The paperwork was much more boring without Connor. Actually, Connor would’ve done the paperwork in a few seconds, truth be told.

Sumo greets him impatiently, whining for food.

“Are you hungry, buddy?”

It doesn’t take Sumo much time to wolf down the kibbles Hank put in his bowl. He takes Sumo out on a walk around the block after that. Hank thinks he’s gotten better at taking care of his dog in the past few months, or at least he hopes. Sumo looks the same as ever though. At least he doesn’t look worse.

After they get home, and Sumo drops himself into his bed, walked out, Hank sits down at his computer.

He has a little secret project. A mind-baby. An embarrassing new interest.

Because since that one particular eye-opening night he spent with Connor, he couldn’t help but become curious.

He looked up android anatomy before, of course; as Connor’s partner, he feels responsible for knowing how to help him if – when, knowing Connor – something happens to him at work. There were a few cases already when he had to use the little toolbox he stores in the trunk of his car, full of android repair tools and some essential replacement parts. Connor has a fucking stupid habit of throwing himself into harm’s way, causing quite a lot of headache for Hank.

But… it doesn’t hurt to freshen up his knowledge, right? What if Connor suffers an oddly specific injury? It sounded like a good excuse to start digging deeper into it. Just on a professional level, of course.

Hank has to admit, it’s quite fascinating, the way androids are built. After all this time he still doesn’t understand half of the terminology (or gibberish, as he calls it), but he’s trying, at least.

By the end of the month, he feels more ready to face any kind of emergency. He also knows where all the sensitive ports are located in an android’s body and how to touch them for maximum efficiency. As a side effect.

“How was your date?” Hank asks nonchalantly. They sit opposite each other in a booth, currently on a lunch break (a break without lunch for Connor).

“We didn’t hit it off.”

Hank hums and tries to hide the relief that floods him by shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth. Ugh, he really feels like an asshole right now.

Connor furrows his brows. “This will sound bad, but… I don’t find androids as interesting as humans. I don’t think I’m attracted to them. Or maybe I’m just… no, that sounds bad.”

“That’s fine, Connor, everyone has different tastes.”

Connor goes unusually quiet at this, his mood ring spinning a steady yellow. Hank really wants to know what’s going on in his head.

“What’s your taste, Hank?” Connor asks, innocently tilting his head.

Well, shit. ‘People who can top me’ is not exactly an appropriate answer, even if it’s true. It’s never an appropriate answer for a man who looks and is built like Hank.

But Connor is looking at him with an intense gaze, his dark eyes boring right into Hank’s skull like he’s trying to read his thoughts. Fuck, he can’t escape answering.

“Ugh, just… people? The perks of being bi, I guess.”

Connor considers it for a moment, but Hank knows he knows that it wasn’t entirely truthful. And Hank knows that Connor knows that Hank knows that Connor knows.

Connor doesn’t push it any further though. Hank’s never been so grateful in his life.

Saturday is Connor Day. If they have the day off, Connor comes over for lunch, bringing rabbit food (in Connor’s words: healthy and nutritious), then they spend the afternoon together, visiting the dog park with Sumo, watching movies, or the Gears. It’s a nice routine they established months ago.

Hank still doesn’t fully understand why Connor is sticking with him when he could spend his time with the cool Jericho kids. But he promised himself that he was not going to question Connor’s intentions or push him away. He tried that before. It didn’t end well.

Today, Connor spent half an hour playing with Sumo, until the big lug got tired and retired to his bed. It always pulls a little on Hank’s heartstrings, seeing the two of them together, Connor smiling and laughing. It’s a thought that Hank should not dwell on too much.

“Sumo was a very good boy today,” Connor announces as he joins Hank on the couch.

“That’s what you say every time.”

“Because he’s always a very good boy!”

“Even when he destroyed one of my shoes?”

“It was a sign, Hank, that you need new shoes with better support for your soles!”

Hank shakes his head, trying to suppress a smile. It’s getting harder day by day.

Fortunately, Connor turns his attention to the tv. “Are we losing?”

“Again,” Hank grunts, and gets up.

He takes out a beer from the fridge, followed by Connor’s concerned gaze. Hank’s quick to reassure him.

“Alcohol-free.”

That eases Connor at least a bit, his LED cycling back to blue.

They watch the game for a while, Hank slowly sipping on his beer, not thinking about how close Connor is sitting to him on the couch at all.

When he turns his head, he finds out that Connor is watching him intensely, and his LED is back to spinning yellow. Maybe there’s… something on his face?

“What is it?” Hank asks cautiously.

“Can I perform fellatio on you?”

Hank chokes on his beer, and suddenly wishes it contained at least a little alcohol. Where the fuck did this come from?

He manages to garble out something that resembles a ‘why?’.

“I have the intention to date humans.” Connor starts and Hank feels the heat rising on his neck. “As I currently don’t have genitalia, I would like to get familiar with something that I can do to bring pleasure to my partner.”

Oh god.

Hank did not sign up for this. He feels the embarrassment and something else rising in his veins.

(Oh god.)

Connor tilts his head, patiently waiting for his answer.

And there it is: how could he say no to Connor? He’s just trying to grasp his newfound freedom and life. Is Hank an asshole enough to decline him a helping hand (a helping dick?).

“Okay.”

The reaction is immediate, Connor cycles back to blue, and flashes a smile, and god, his smile.

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?” Connor asks but doesn’t even wait for an answer (which was going to be ‘okay’ anyway), his soft lips are instantly on Hank’s.

Hank kisses him back. Not eagerly. He’s just helping out a friend.

Okay, maybe a little eagerly.

Connor’s gotten better at kissing since the last time they did this, Hank notices. Did he practice with others? Hank doesn’t want to think about it.

Slowly, meanwhile not breaking the kiss, Connor maneuvers himself into Hank’s lap, moving his hips, and Hank is already half-hard, just from this? He needs to get a life. His hands move to Connor’s sides, involuntarily, gripping his firm body.

When they part, Connor smiles at him again. Hank could count all the freckles on his beautiful face from this distance.

Connor’s palms move between Hank’s legs, and he dips an agile hand into Hank’s sweatpants. Hank grunts when he feels Connor’s deft fingers grabbing his dick. He tries to resist thrusting into the hand immediately. Connor doesn’t wait much, though, he starts moving his hand, steadily pumping Hank’s dick.

Jesus Christ. Hank gets rock hard in no time. He looks up at Connor’s face and sees his eyes glinting with mischief.

Connor leans closer to him, and Hank almost forgets to breathe. “Do you like this?” Connor whispers the question into his ear.

Hank lets out a sigh. How could he not like it? It’s Connor. And his capable hands in his pants. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Eventually, Connor removes his hands (to Hank’s disappointment), to slide down from the couch to sit between Hank’s open legs (to Hank’s excitement). God, he shouldn’t feel this excited about Connor potentially sucking his dick. It’s just transactional.

“Take off your pants. Please.”

Despite everything, Connor’s commanding voice does something to Hank’s dick, and he’s quick to comply.

He watches Connor looking at his now fully hard, flushed, leaking cock, without blinking. Hank suddenly feels a little insecure about his dick. Is Connor analyzing it? Comparing it to other dicks?

“I like your penis,” Connor concludes, and takes Hank’s dick into his hand again, and Hank’s breath hitches. “It has a nice girth.”

“For the love of god, don’t say penis. Call it dick. Or cock.”

Connor looks up at him with a mischievous smile on his lips. “I like your dick, Hank.”

Hank’s cock twitches at the words, and he lets out a needy sound. Maybe fixing Connor’s sexual vocabulary was a mistake. Connor himself looks like a satisfied cat that caught a canary. Also, he’s incredibly pretty from this angle. To be honest, he’s incredibly pretty from all angles.

“Are you going to take it into your mouth, or you’ll keep analyzing it all night?”

“I will,” Connor says simply. “But since I haven’t done this before, I need you to tell me if I do something wrong.”

But before Hank can give him a pointer, Connor’s mouth is already on the dick in front of him, licking the tip. Hank takes a sharp breath. Fuck, this is really happening.

Connor flashes yellow again, and Hank has a feeling he’s analyzing his precum. Funky little android, Hank thinks fondly, then lets out a moan when Connor takes him deeper into his mouth.

Hank didn’t have expectations about putting his dick in Connor’s mouth, mostly because he didn’t have time to develop expectations in the past few minutes. But fuck. It feels incredible.

Connor starts moving his head and Hank hisses.

“Watch your teeth.”

Connor stops abruptly and glances up at him.

“Sorry.”

Hank has to do a double take just to be sure he heard it well because Connor’s mouth is still full of his dick.

“Y-you-“

“My voice box does not require my oral cavity to function,” Connor explains, his voice a little muffled from the cock in his mouth. “Although it serves better sound quality and modulation.”

“Freaky,” Hank says in awe.

Connor smiles around his dick, places one hand on Hank’s thigh, the other still gripping the base of Hank’s cock, then starts bobbing his head in earnest.

And holy shit, it feels amazing. Hank hazily suspects that Connor downloaded some kind of dick sucking program in the past minute because the suction and the occasional swirl of his tongue are just perfect.

“Ah, you’re doing very well, Connor,” he says between two gasps, which makes Connor even more enthusiastic.

Hank has to restrict himself from thrusting up into Connor’s mouth, and it’s the hardest thing ever. His fingers twitch uselessly, itching to grab Connor’s hair.

Connor, the fucker, must’ve noticed this, because he stops for a moment, and looks up at Hank. Damn, he looks incredible with Hank’s dick in his mouth. The thought just makes Hank even harder, if it’s possible.

“You can grab my hair if you want to,” Connor says. “You cannot hurt me.”

When Hank hesitates, Connor just takes his hand and places it on his own head.

Well, if Connor said so, Hank cards his fingers through Connor’s soft hair and grabs. Connor’s eyelashes honest to god flutter at the touch.

“God, you look so pretty like this.”

Some kind of broken sound escapes Connor, but before Hank could worry about breaking him with praise, Connor resumes his dick sucking routine with increased vigor. Hank starts thrusting into his mouth, and holy fucking shit.

“Yes, just like this,” he manages between two moans, then takes a sharp breath, because he doesn’t want to come just yet, but he’s so fucking close.

“I’m going to come if you continue like this,” he warns Connor, but the android keeps on going, his fingers digging into Hank’s thigh.

At last, another clever tongue swirl of Connor’s does it, sending Hank over the edge with a loud moan. Hank rides out his orgasm, feeling like he’s fucking flying or something. Yeah, it’s been a while since he’s got a blowjob, alright.

When he comes back to himself, he watches Connor letting his softening dick slide out of his mouth. It’s obscene, frankly. And that’s when he realizes.

“Um, were you supposed to swallow…?”

Connor shakes his head, his hands moving to his throat.

“Shit,” Hank swears and stands up, post-orgasm haze all gone in a blink of an eye. He quickly tucks himself back into his sweatpants, then grabs Connor’s arm and drags him to the bathroom.

Hank finds a wet rag, meanwhile, Connor dutifully sits down on the toilet and removes his throat plating.

“Fucking android,” Hank grumbles when he sees the damage. It’s dripping of cum in there. Hank curses himself for not realizing this mistake earlier; he can’t afford to get so immersed in his pleasure, it was not about him. But the way Connor looked between… no, he shouldn’t think of it like this. Fuck.

Hank shakes his head and tries his best to clean up Connor’s throat, carefully wiping with the rag. It takes a good while to get rid of most of the body fluid. When he deems it fine and looks up at Connor’s face, he sees him smiling wide.

Their eyes meet and Hank feels something in his stomach flutter.

“I really enjoyed this, Hank.” Connor beams, and shit, Hank is in a whole lot of trouble.

Chapter Text

It’s after midnight when Connor enters his apartment.

It’s not much of an apartment, rather than a room, but it’s enough for Connor. It’s a little place he has just for himself.

Connor looks down at his dirty clothes and discards them. He schedules a task to bring them to the laundromat tomorrow.

They got into a chase earlier today, through an alleyway, and when Connor caught up to the perp, they tossed an open trash bin at him. Despite removing his clothes, he notices he still smells like rotten food.

He doesn’t like using the public bathroom at the end of the corridor, but that’s all he has. In these moments, he misses the weeks he spent living on Hank’s couch. Hank has a nice bathroom and a nice bathtub, and Connor liked to be able to lounge in warm water for a while.

Reluctantly, Connor goes to the bathroom, and he finds one of the showers empty. It takes about a minute for the water to warm up to the temperature he prefers (98,6 °F). He steps under the spray and starts scrubbing himself clean.

He’s about to start sorting the data from today’s case and interrogation when he hears a moan from the next shower stall. He stops his processes and listens. Maybe someone is in distress.

A few seconds later comes another, lower-pitched moan, and fine. An android couple is having sex in the next shower, Connor notes grimly.

He does not want to listen in but… it’s hard to miss what they’re doing.

They’re very loud. Is it something that other people find arousing? Connor wonders if they both have genitalia. He looks down at his own flat crotch, calculating. Maybe he should get genitalia too. Although even just thinking about making modifications to his body fills Connor with some kind of negative feeling.

But… even without genitalia, it was enjoyable when Hank touched his wires. He briefly pulls up the memory of it but quickly shuts it down when his thirium flow starts speeding up. Weird. Is that the feeling humans call horniness?

The public bathroom is definitely not the right place to feel horny, Connor concludes. Except for the others in the next shower stall, it seems.

The couple finishes with a cacophonous moan, which gets Connor out of his reverie and he hurries to finish his shower.

The thing is: Connor tried to touch himself only once, but that was before his whole journey of exploring sexuality with others (others being only Hank) started. It felt like himself touching his wires, nothing more or exciting.

When he gets back to his apartment, he changes to his nightwear, which is just a pair of briefs and an old band shirt of Hank’s he borrowed for forever before he moved in here. Connor likes this shirt; it’s comfortable, ninety-three percent cotton, and seven percent polyester. It still smells a little like Hank.

He lies down on the slightly moth-ridden mattress. He’s running low on power, but he doesn’t feel like recharging just yet.

Instead, he pulls up the memory of Hank touching his wires again. Technically, it’s only video and sound recording, but Connor almost feels the ghost of Hank’s touch on himself while watching it.

He turns to his side and opens his neck port. When the recording gets to the part of Hank sticking his fingers there, he imitates the movement with his own hands. He feels a little electric tingle there. It’s not nearly enough.

He warms up his hand to match Hank’s temperature. It gets a little better.

“Look at you, such a pretty sight.” The memory-Hank rumbles into his ear, while Connor tugs on a wire, and oh. A whole bodily shiver runs through him, his fans kicking in to ease the sudden temperature rise.

He reaches deeper with his fingers.

Memory-Hank starts telling him things he’s never said in real life, like ‘You look so beautiful touching yourself like this’, and ‘You’re doing great, come for me, baby’. It feels good. It feels so-so good that Connor has to turn off his voice box to stop himself from moaning out loud. The walls are not nearly thick enough in this building.

His fans are struggling now, each touch sending a hot shock through him. A red warning about overheating pops up on his HUD.

Suddenly, Connor remembers Hank coming into his mouth, the hot wetness of his cum, and the pure bliss on his face, and that’s what sends him over the edge, his vision blacking out. He shouts soundlessly from the pleasure before his processors force him into stasis.

Connor has the assumption that Hank is overestimating his other friendships. He gets along with Markus alright, as well as with Josh and Simon. Most of Jericho’s androids reluctantly accepted him, even if some of them still look at him like he’s about to attack them at any given moment.

The only close friendship he has is with North of all people. She’s fierce and practical and for some reason amenable to listening to Connor’s sometimes admittedly weird problems.

“I have no idea why you would want to date humans,” North admits one afternoon. Connor watches her pick up an android torso from the junkyard’s ground. “They’re disgusting. Look at what they did to us. Do you think this pump can be fixed?”

“Not all of them are disgusting. Hank is not disgusting.” Connor opens the chest cavity and inspects the biocomponents. “Biocomponent number 4717g, thirium pump, biocomponent number 9474, thirium pump regulator. Both seem to be in working order.”

“Well, that’s one out of ten billion. Put them in the bag.”

Connor carefully removes the biocomponents, and puts them in North’s backpack. “I don’t think androids like me that much. Even the ones I went on a date with, they were… wary of me.” Connor’s eyes graze through the junkyard. “How am I supposed to undo all the damage I’ve done?”

“Look, we’re no saints. No one is. We’ve fought and killed people to stay alive. You were programmed to hunt deviants.”

“Yes, but…” Connor pauses. It’s hard to say it out loud. It took him several months and some lengthy discussions with Hank to even be able to face some of these feelings, and he still barely trusts anyone to understand. “I still knew what I was doing.”

“And you’re not doing it anymore. Sounds good enough to me.” North shrugs. “Let’s stop moping and see what we can salvage.”

Connor’s processors are flooded with the feeling he learned to recognize as gratefulness. This was one of the first positive feelings he experienced after his deviation; the way Markus (and North) accepted him, despite all the things he’d done against them and his own people.

He really wishes he could do more than scavenging for biocomponents at a junkyard. Markus keeps asking him to help with the negotiations and public appearances (not pushing him, Markus is firm and persuading but he’s never pushy), but he doesn’t think he would be any good at it. Yes, he knows how to negotiate, yes, he knows how to manipulate, but Markus has a certain way of saying the right things at the right time, of making others believe in him and their cause, of being kind but also strong. When Connor thinks about the things he’s done (and he tries rather hard not to), he doesn’t feel worthy to represent their cause. He’s seventy-six percent sure the majority of the androids wouldn’t be happy by the ex-deviant hunter representing them.

But here, it’s different. He doesn’t mind doing the dirty work, he doesn’t mind being practical and thinking about their short-term needs. There are many deviants who are in dire need of biocomponents or blue blood, and this is one of their resources until CyberLife gets kicked out from monopoly. Which might take months or years, no one knows. Markus and the others are doing hard work, but change is slow.

They just need to keep hoping.

Dating humans is difficult, Connor realizes. There are so many of them. How is he supposed to find out who he's attracted to?

He even signs up for a dating app but turns out that a handful of them are just android fetishists.

He knows it is extensive to run background checks on everyone, but he doesn't want to date a criminal.

One night, Connor and Hank are out on a stakeout, watching an abandoned warehouse for two hours and thirty-eight minutes.

Connor’s sensors haven’t picked up anything yet, and they both assume they’re sitting here for no reason, and their lead was useless. But it’s a part of the job, and you can never be one hundred percent sure, so better keep an eye out. Additionally, he doesn’t mind sitting beside Hank just a little longer than their usual work hours.

He’s been scrolling through the dating app in the background, becoming increasingly uncomfortable over his own profile, which has the android-specific ‘genitalia’ field left empty. The thought process of getting an upgrade has been popping up with increasing frequency lately, but at the same time… he hates thinking about any technician touching him.

“Do you think I would be more appealing to humans if I had genitalia?” Connor asks.

Hank stills for a second, surprised, then clears his throat. “Where did this come from?”

“There’s this dating app I signed up for,” Connor explains. “It has a field for genitalia on the profile page.”

“Well, this just sounds intrusive.”

“People use this to filter the dates.”

Hank huffs, his piercing blue eyes firmly on him, reflecting the low light coming from a nearby street lamp. “You shouldn’t have signed up for this app then.”

“Hank-“

“No, but really!” Hank is properly annoyed now; Connor sees it in the way his eyes flash. “You shouldn’t change, or even think about changing your body because of other people! You don’t need to match some kind of standard! If someone likes you, they should like you for who you are.”

It’s harder to determine in the dark without turning on his vitals monitoring program, but Hank seems to be blushing. Connor feels something warm in his chest, despite nothing touching him there. He runs a quick diagnostics, but nothing is out of order.

“Thank you, Hank.”

Hank just waves dismissively and turns away to look out of the window.

Suddenly, a prompt pops up on Connor’s HUD: Kiss Hank. He… reluctantly dismisses it. They are at work, it would be highly unprofessional.

He stores it away for later revision instead.

Connor drags Hank into an exhibition next Saturday. It’s the first one solely displaying art made by androids. Hank starts with being grumpy as he is with anything that involves leaving the comforts of his house, but he quickly gets immersed in, and patiently listens to Connor’s analysis of the various exhibited pieces.

They even stumble upon a few paintings made by Markus, and Connor watches them with awe. It’s wonderful, how Markus is able to communicate his feelings through his brush strokes; his struggles through the revolution, his compassion and love for his people. Sometimes Connor is even a little jealous of him; feelings – and especially understanding them – never come easy for Connor, but he wishes desperately that he had a better grip on them. He has Hank, though, and Hank always helps.

There’s a painting by Markus of two androids interfacing, only showing their stark white torsos and hands, and it’s so intimate that Connor wants to look away. He doesn’t. Instead, he stares at the painting, analyzing it, wondering who the two faceless androids could be. Maybe one of them is North, or Markus himself. Or just two androids from Jericho, finding love among the chaos and the remains of the revolution.

Will he ever experience such an intimate connection with someone? Is he even able to connect with others like this, or he’s just chasing a fever dream?

He feels a warm hand on his back. “You okay? You’ve been spinning red for a while.”

Connor nods, putting his confusing thought processes to a halt, and looking back at Hank’s concerned blue gaze. “Yes. Let’s move on.”

They move to another room then, leaving Markus’s art behind.

“Is this made with blue blood?” Hank asks when they stop in front of a seemingly empty canvas.

“Yes,” Connor says, inspecting the painting. “It’s a group of androids, stepping out of the dark. They are alive.”

“Huh. Wish I could see it.”

Connor looks at Hank. He’s furrowing his brows like he’s trying to visualize something on the canvas, he can’t see. It’s endearing. It makes a smile tug at the corner of Connor’s mouth.

“You can,” Connor says and holds out his palm display for Hank, showing the painting as he sees it.

Hank squints, and Connor notes that he should get him to check his eyes.

Finally, Hank grabs his wrist to pull the image closer to himself, and Connor feels the familiar warmth under his skin where they touch. He studies Hank’s face like he did many times before, committing every detail, every microexpression to memory. His strong brows, his grecian nose, the crow’s feet his eyes. He trimmed his beard recently. Connor finds him even more handsome day by day. Maybe there’s really something wrong with his programming.

“That’s beautiful,” Hank concludes, and Connor can’t stop smiling. The ‘Kiss Hank’ prompt returns on his HUD without calling it, but he finally embraces the thought process.

Sensing the little weight in his pocket, he’s planning to make it happen, later today.

“Are you sure, this is safe?”

They went home after the exhibition, and Connor showed Hank the little device he got earlier this week.

“Yes, Hank, it’s completely safe. The device should be able to connect to any of my ports, and stimulate it.” Connor explains. “I would experience pleasure, just like when you touched my wires.”

“Why don’t you just ask me to touch your wires again,” Hank mumbles under his breath.

Connor… doesn’t really know.

He didn’t buy the device with Hank on his mind. He thought about a faceless man in his future, who he’s going to fall in love with. He’s not sure he can trust others than Hank to touch his wires though.

That’s… probably a weird thing to think about. Connor stores this away for later revision too.

“I just want to try out this new thing,” Connor says finally. “But if you don’t want to, I can just go home and plug it in myself.”

Hank lets out a sigh in surrender. “I already agreed to it, didn’t I? Although when you said you bought a sex toy, I thought it was like, a dildo, or something.”

Connor’s ears perk up. Would Hank enjoy it if he bought a dildo? Another thought for later revision. Fortunately, he has enough storage space for all of them.

“It is an android sex toy.”

“Fine, smartass,” Hank huffs. “Tell me where do I plug it in?”

“It would be safe to start with my arm port,” Connor says and opens the panel on his left forearm. “I wouldn’t want the first experience to be too shocking. My neck port is more sensitive.”

Hank hums and grabs the device. Although his hands are big, he holds it with a surprising gentleness, while he’s inspecting it.

Hank grabs Connor’s arm and gently plugs in the device. Connor blinks a couple of times, installing it in his system.

“Okay,” he says, and motions to Hank. Hank moves his thumb over the little panel on the device.

“So do I just turn it on, and-“

Connor feels his whole body convulse with a shock, and he lets out some sound he can’t properly hear, due to his sensors blinking out. He can’t stop his body from falling back to the bed, but Hank’s strong arms can.

The buzzing shock in his wires stops suddenly, leaving him disoriented.

“Shit, are you okay?”

Connor blinks until Hank’s handsome, worried face comes into focus. “Mmhmm.”

“This shit was on four.”

“It didn’t feel bad,” Connor explains when he gets his voice box to work again. “It was just… unexpected.”

“Okay. Do you want to try again?”

“Yes.”

Hank hums and moves his thumb on the device again. “I’ll set it on one.”

He turns on the device again, and Connor feels a pleasant buzz spreading from his arm port, like someone caressing him here.

Hank watches him warily. “How does it feel?”

“It’s pleasant.” Connor smiles. His eyes follow the lines on Hank’s face, his strong brows, and his pretty blue eyes. “You can turn it up.”

Hank thumbs the device.

“Oh.” A sudden spike courses through Connor’s wires, and his fans kick in.

He grabs Hank’s arm. Hank has a nice arm. It’s strong and hairy. Connor’s fingertips itch to feel more of it. He slides his hand up until he reaches Hank’s biceps. His thirium flow is speeding up. He follows the line of Hank’s neck with his eyes, noticing the pink blush that spreads there.

“Hank?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Hank reaches for Connor’s face and pulls him closer. Connor registers his hot breath on his skin before their lips meet.

The ‘Kiss Hank’ prompt happily blinks green in the corner of his HUD, as he eagerly kisses Hank back, and it’s a lot. The device sending impulses through his wires, Hank’s warm hands in his hair and on his back, the taste of him on his oral receptors. He has to turn off his oral analysis process as per usual to ease his processors. It might be a lot, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Hank grabs his arm again, and there’s another hot spike through Connor. His voice box glitches, making a staticky sound.

Hank breaks the kiss, alarmed.

“You okay?” Hank asks again, because he’s like that, and Connor likes him a lot for it.

“Don’t stop,” Connor croaks, pulling Hank back into a kiss, and down on the bed.

Hank’s broad body envelops him in warmth, pressing him down on the bed. He feels Hank’s beard scratching his skin, Hank’s hands roaming his body, Hank, Hank, Hank all around.

There’s an involuntary moan coming out from his voice box that surprises him. Hank props himself up to look at him, and Connor looks back at him, his thirium pump regulator working in overdrive.

“Connor,” Hank whispers, stroking Connor’s cheek. “You’re doing so well.”

Connor feels another electric pulse running through his wires, even though Hank didn’t turn up the device. His fans start emitting a weird sound from the strain, and his processors start lagging.

He grabs Hank by his neck and crashes their lips together again.

Connor registers Hank’s warm hand sneaking under his shirt, and he craves Hank’s touch on his skin, everywhere.

So he breaks the kiss for a moment to toss away his shirt. A warning about overheating pops up on his HUD, but he dismisses it.

Hank’s large, strong hands are back on his body, and as another impulse from the device hits Connor, his skin ripples out for a moment.

Unsure, he looks up at Hank with wide eyes, and he tries to fix his synthskin where it has a hand-shaped patch on his torso, with less success. Hank has seen parts of him without his skin, but it was in a completely different scenario. Connor is not sure if Hank is going to be turned off by it-

But Hank still has his hands on Connor’s body, and he’s smiling.

“Let me see you.”

An involuntary glitchy sound escapes Connor’s voice box because it is a lot. Everything is a lot, and Connor is running hot and Hank is looking at him with dark eyes, and he wants to let Hank do whatever he wants with him.

So he lets his synthskin retract from his chest completely.

And Hank leans down to place a kiss on Connor’s bare shoulder, and oh. It’s even more intense without his skin, and he shivers under the soft touch of his lips.

Connor is close. His fans are struggling, the red warning is back (now it’s flashing too), and Hank is still placing kisses over his bare chest. Unfortunately, he has to turn off his visual processing to avoid shutdown; he would’ve liked to watch Hank’s ministrations for a while longer.

“Look at you.” He hears Hank murmur and feels his hand reaching for the device again. “So beautiful.”

Another hot shock courses through his wires, and he feels like melting away and falling apart, but he’s also grounded here by Hank’s body, in safety. He registers making a weird noise, before getting forced into stasis.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Hank has bad days without reason. He gets up in the morning thinking about bad things, about Cole, about his own mistakes.

Sometimes there is a reason.

This time it’s a child android.

Hank and Connor are summoned to the scene, and despite all his efforts to brace himself for it, the view still kicks the air out of his lungs.

The kid’s face is smashed, and his thirium pump regulator is ripped out of his chest.

It reminds Hank too much of Cole, his last waking moments right after the accident, calling for his dad…

Connor, bless him, quickly takes over conducting the investigation, going through the scene, and doing his android things, while Hank wanders around aimlessly. The urge to have a drink, preferably something strong to numb his mind flares up in him like wildfire. He tucks his hand in his pocket and wraps his fingers around his sobriety coin. He’s… trying, but sometimes it’s really fucking hard.

“I think we’re done here, lieutenant,” Connor announces, placing a soft hand on his shoulder, and Hank can only nod and follow him out of the apartment.

Hank comes to himself a little later, as they sit in the car.

“Are you okay, Hank?” Connor asks and places a comforting hand on Hank’s arm. The touch is cold, but it burns Hank’s skin. “Do you want me to drive?”

Not even knowing which question he’s answering, Hank shakes his head. He has to look away from Connor’s face, because the look he gives him…

Fucking great, now Hank just wants to cry.

He’s still resolutely looking out of the window when he feels Connor’s arms sneak around his neck.

“Come here,” Connor whispers, and god help him, Hank complies, tucking his head in the crook of Connor’s neck.

And he can’t keep his tears at bay anymore.

“MY FINAL BREATH SWALLOWED BY THE WOMB OF-“

The doorbell rings and Hank curses. He can't even listen to his breakdowns in peace anymore.

Reluctantly, he turns off the dying pig noises and goes to open the door.

Of course, it's Connor.

“Good afternoon, Hank,” he beams, looking incredibly handsome, as always. “May I come in?”

“You'll come in even if I say no,” he says as he moves to let Connor in.

“That's not true! I'm well aware of the concept of personal space!”

“You just don't like respecting it.”

“Only when it comes to you!” The cheeky bastard smiles, and he's insufferable and Hank is in love with him.

Oh god, Hank is so in love with him.

Noticing the bag Connor is holding, Hank's curiosity momentarily overrides his annoyance. “So, what is it this time?”

“It was inspired by a comment you made last week,” Connor starts, and Hank tries to go through everything he said in panic.

When Connor shows him the object, Hank’s breath hitches for real. Fuck.

“Y-you brought-“

“A strap-on, yes. I would like to try penetrating you if you let me.”

Oh god, Hank is going to fucking die right here. His tombstone will read that he died of thinking about an android topping him. May he rest in pieces.

“Connor,” he grunts instead, turning away in an attempt to hide the blush that’s surely creeping up on his neck.

“Only if you want to, Hank.”

There’s a strange emphasis on want and fuck, Hank is sure that Connor knows. Fuck, he knows that Hank is crazy about him and would do anything for him.

He risks a glance back, and there, Connor is doing his kicked puppy eyes once again.

“Ah, fuck!”

“Yes, that’s what I’m planning to do.”

“You’re awful.”

“Awfully attractive?” Connor asks with a cheeky smile and Hank forgets to breathe for a second.

“Yes.”

Connor’s smile becomes positively radiant at this. As he steps closer, Hank can’t stop looking at him.

“Well, good thing, you are too,” Connor whispers, then kisses him.

There’s so much intent in this kiss, and Hank is sure that Connor is planning to fuckin’ wreck him, and Hank is too weak to resist. Also, he kinda wants to get wrecked by Connor, but that’s not the main point here.

Connor’s tongue slides hotly against his own, his fingers tangling in Hank’s hair, and tugging until Hank moans. If anything, it invigorates Connor even more.

Connor pushes him back until his legs hit the kitchen table, and holy fuck, his mind is quick to provide scenarios he’s too old to participate in.

God bless Connor, he’s relentless as his soft lips work their way down Hank’s neck, while he unbuttons Hank’s shirt. And then Hank gets fucking lifted on the table by his strong hands like he weighs nothing. It makes his dick twitch with anticipation.

“Connor,” he moans and Jesus, he hasn’t been this aroused in ages.

Connor’s deft hands move to undo Hank’s belt, and that’s when he stops him. He’s met with a confused look.

“Fuck, I’m too old to fuck on the table,” Hank huffs, feeling his ass already going a little numb on the hard surface.

“Got it!” Connor chirps then grabs Hank’s hand and his stupid bag and pulls them toward the bedroom.

Sumo, noticing the movement, lets out an interested bark.

“Later!” Hank says, only sparing a glance at the poor dog. He promises himself to go on a long walk with Sumo later. Well, if he’ll be able to walk after this, that is.

Because Connor is looking at him like a predator looks at his prey, and it’s so fucking hot.

Hank finds himself under Connor soon enough, feels Connor’s hands returning to his belt, and this time he goes without protesting, letting Connor get rid of his pants. They were getting incredibly tight anyway. Hank can’t help himself but lets out a moan when Connor cups his dick through his underwear. Connor’s palm is a little cold, but his touch is hot regardless.

Connor’s mouth is on his again, kissing him eagerly. Hank reaches up to touch Connor’s neck port, but when Connor senses this, he grabs Hank’s hand and pulls away a little.

“Not today.” That’s all he says, and to be honest, it’s a little sad, but also the way he said it makes Hank wonder if there will be a next time for it. He kinda hopes. But he also knows they can’t go on like this forever.

The gloomy thought evaporates real quick when Connor starts undressing. Hank watches his lean body, his pale chest, dusted with moles, the faint circle of his thirium pump regulator. His hands itch to touch, to explore every inch of Connor’s body, to hold him close and feel the slight pulse of his thirium pump under his palm.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he blurts out without thinking.

Connor smiles, averting his gaze, suddenly shy. “This might be a little anticlimactic.”

“Huh?”

In one swift motion, Connor gets rid of his pants and boxers, revealing even more of his endless skin. Hank’s eyes travel down his narrow hips to his smooth pubic mound.

Hank is not surprised in the slightest; he was well aware of the fact that Connor doesn’t have genitalia, and even if Connor is clearly insecure about it, it doesn’t make him any less attractive. Quite the opposite; Connor could have anything or nothing between his legs, it doesn’t fucking matter because it’s still Connor.

And he knows how to make Connor feel good, with his hands in his wires, even if he’s not allowed tonight (a fucking shame, really). But the thought of what Connor is planning to do to him makes him harder still, makes his blood rush.

They meet each other’s eyes, honey brown and piercing blue, and then they meet each other in a heated kiss.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Connor says against his lips.

Hank can only let out an aroused grunt at that.

“You’re overdressed.”

Hank is quick to remove all his remaining clothes, which are just a pair of boxers, and his shirt hanging askew from his shoulders, really.

As he lays bare in front of Connor, he still feels the instinct to cover himself up. It’s been a while since he felt comfortable in his own body, years of neglect and abuse showing. But if Connor was brave enough to show himself as he is, Hank has no right to complain. So he lets Connor look at him like he did with Connor before.

“I like how your body looks,” Connor concludes with that gut-punching sincerity of his, and oh god. Hank momentarily feels like the most attractive person on the planet. Connor is very good at making him feel things, mostly things that he’s not allowed to say out loud or ponder too much about.

Connor reaches for the bedside table to retrieve the bottle of lube. Hank doesn’t even ask how he knew it was there; at this point, Connor is probably capable of reading his mind.

(Although, he kinda hopes he’s not, because all he can think about right now is how much he loves Connor, and it would be unfortunate. This is still only transactional; Hank has to remind himself for the hundredth time.)

If Hank’s erection waned a little from the uncomfortable undressing, it picks right up when Connor takes his dick into his hand. The fucker learned how Hank likes to be touched by now, and he’s showing no mercy, pumping his dick, and smearing the precum on the tip.

“Jesus, Connor, I’m going to come even before you strap on that thing,” Hank groans, face flushed.

Connor smiles up at him. “That would be unfortunate.” He still pumps Hank’s dick a few more times before removing his hand, the bastard he is.

Hank watches him as he puts on the strap-on, and isn’t it a sight, Connor meticulously getting ready to fuck him? It only makes Hank harder if that’s even possible.

Connor returns to kissing him, their bodies touching hotly, skin to skin. Hank has the suspicion that Connor only kisses him so much because he enjoys kissing. Well, good for him! Also, good for Hank, because fuck. Connor’s tongue is driving him insane.

Suddenly, Hank feels a slicked finger touching his entrance, and Connor is good at this too (maybe he downloaded another program). He moans into Connor’s mouth, which turns out to be a mistake because Connor breaks the kiss.

“Tell me when you feel ready,” Connor whispers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And fuck, the way Connor says it should be illegal. It should be illegal to make Hank feel like this, like he wants to have Connor for real.

Deft fingers continue to circle his hole, then dip in, finding the right spot immediately, which makes Hank moan loudly. It’s not the first time Hank thinks Connor has some kind of x-ray vision. This should be illegal as well. Damn him, really.

“Connor, I-“ he gasps when Connor enters a second finger. “I’m ready.”

Connor smiles at him, but it’s not that devastating, predatory smile from earlier. It’s soft and tender. It’s a smile only for Hank.

Hank’s hips get lifted up from the bed with ease, and a pillow slides in under him, but he can only look at Connor’s warm eyes.

“Tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” Connor says, and what a stupid thought, because Connor is incapable of doing anything wrong, and it drives Hank insane.

He lets out a gasp when Connor enters him, slow and deliberate, and so beautiful.

“Yeah, like this,” Hank whispers, and the next thing he knows is that Connor is kissing him and rocking into him relentlessly.

And oh god, any discomfort Hank may have felt about the stretch disappears when Connor finds a comfortable speed. Heat pools in Hank’s stomach, and it’s everything and more than what he dreamt of, because it’s real, and it’s Connor, and it’s perfect.

“Hank,” Connor moans, and it’s incredible how overheated he’s gotten without Hank even touching any of his ports. His skin is hot under Hank’s touch, and he even hears a faint whirring of his usually quiet fans between their panting.

“Ah, holy shit, you’re amazing.”

The words make Connor let out some kind of broken sound.

“You’re doing great,” Hank adds because he knows by now that Connor craves to be praised and told that he’s doing well.

Connor buries his face into Hank’s neck, increasing the speed, and Hank’s dick is now rubbing between them, and fuck. Connor’s skin is burning hot on Hank’s, but he doesn’t want him to pull away. He never wants it to end, even if he knows he can’t last long like this.

With the next thrust of his hips, Connor changes the angle slightly, but he manages to hit just the right spot, and Jesus, Hank lets out a moan, and Connor bites down on his neck, and Hank is coming, without even being touched in the past few minutes, the heat running through his body in waves.

He feels Connor collapsing on top of him, heavy and motionless, but all he can think of… he can’t really think of anything, all his thoughts evaporating in the post-orgasm haze.

When he opens his eyes, Connor is looking back at him. This rumpled look looks good on him, Hank thinks.

“How would you rate my performance?”

Hank can’t stop himself from letting out a bark of laugh, because Connor is so endearingly weird, and Hank is so far gone.

“Jeez, I hope you don’t want me to fill in some kind of survey!”

Connor pouts. “It was an honest question.”

“If it wasn’t obvious – which I’m sure it was, Mr. state-of-the-art model – you did very well.”

Connor’s whole face lights up to the praise, and Hank suppresses the urge to just kiss him.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Connor says, then buries his face back in Hank’s neck.

Hank huffs, amused. “Aren’t you going to… you know… pull out?”

“Do I have to?” Connor whines.

Well, Connor is heavy as fuck, and they’ll probably stick together where Hank’s cum is smeared between their bellies, but fuck it. Hank can have him here a little longer, pretend that this… thing between the two of them is normal, and forget that it’ll end, probably sooner than later.

He wraps his arms around Connor and starts stroking his back lightly. Connor hums, content, and Hank smiles.

“No. You can stay here a little longer.”

On Friday after successfully closing a case (illegal trading with biocomponents, again), Jeff invites Hank to 'hang out like old friends'. They started to 'hang out like old friends' again not long ago, after not 'hanging out like old friends' for years. Hank knows the break was mostly – if not entirely – his fault, but he's trying now, harder than ever, because Jeff always believed in him, and he will never be able to pay him back for it.

They go to a bar of all places, and Hank assumes it must be some kind of test. Either way, he's resolutely not eyeing Jeff's beer as he sips on his completely normal, alcohol-free soda.

“How's the family?” he asks, and listens to Jeff talk about his wife and his twins, and he's paying attention, and doesn't think about Cole, even if it's fucking hard.

Okay, maybe he thinks about Cole, but only a little.

“You're doing better,” Jeff says after he ran out of stories to tell.

“Depending on which day you ask.”

Jeff ignores the comment. “How long you’ve been sober?”

“Three months.” Hank sighs. “But I screwed it up after three months the last time, so maybe there’s a pattern here.”

“Have a little faith in yourself!”

Hank really wishes he had, but it’s not that easy.

“Connor is helping isn’t he?” Jeff asks.

“Well, he’s mostly just annoying.”

“I’m glad you made a friend, Hank,” Jeff chuckles and pats his shoulder.

And that’s when Hank’s shirt collar, the traitor, slips just a little, revealing the purple, definitely mouth-shaped bruise that’s located where Hank’s neck meets his shoulder. Jeff of course notices it for fuck’s sake, his eyes going wide.

As fast and nonchalantly as he can, Hank fixes his collar, but Jeff is looking at him with that ‘are you fucking kidding me I know exactly what this is’ kind of look. Hank hates how perceptive he still is, especially when it comes to Hank.

Jeff raises an eyebrow, and Hank tries to will away his blush.

“What is actually going on between you and Connor?”

“Nothing.”

“Right, and you just ran into his mouth, neck first.”

Jeff’s beer becomes increasingly attractive.

“That’s not-“

“You know what? I don’t want to hear the details of what my detectives are doing in their free time.”

Hank huffs. “We’re not together or anything, if you’re worried about HR-“

“It’s not HR I’m worried about, for fuck’s sake.”

Oh, Hank realizes, Jeff cares about him. Even after years of abusing his friendship, Jeff cares about his well-being. It makes Hank a little emotional, truth be told.

“You don’t have to worry, we’re just friends.”

“With… benefits?”

Hank turns the words around in his head but comes up short of an actual answer. “Leave it, Jeff.”

Jeff lets out a weary sigh at this. “When are you going to tell him?”

Hank’s first instinct is to ask ‘what?’, but he knows what Jeff’s referring to. How obvious could he be exactly?

“He deserves someone better than me,” Hank admits with a sad smile on his lips.

Jeff raises the eyebrow once again. “Love is never about deserving.”

“I’ll get you a coffee.” Connor smiles, and Hank lets him, because he’s been up for about twenty hours, and there’s no use arguing with Connor about stuff like this anyway. He does whatever the fuck he wants all the time.

Hank takes a seat near the window of the unfamiliar café. A case kept them up all night, at the other side of the city even, and they still have some evidence to file and paperwork to finish. Hank has a feeling that it’ll be Connor doing both.

He watches as Connor gets to the counter, explaining his order. He memorized Hank’s coffee preferences a long time ago.

The barista guy chats him up while he makes the coffee, smiling at Connor a little more suggestively than necessary. Hank feels a pang in his gut and adjusts the neck of his shirt to hide the fading hickey.

It gets worse when the barista guy scribbles something on a piece of paper and slides it in front of Connor with a wink. Stupid jealousy flares up in Hank, but he tries to will it away. He knows that Connor deserves someone who’s young and cute and has his shit together. Someone, who can give him a future.

Connor pockets the paper, and Hank puts his hand in his own pocket to squeeze his sobriety coin.

Not today, satan.

“Hank, your coffee.” Connor puts the cup in front of him, smiling.

“Thank you.” He stirs his coffee as he watches Connor sit down opposite of him, then takes a sip. It’s perfect.

“So,” Hank starts dumbly, then clears his throat and motions towards the barista guy. “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”

“Oh!” Connor perks up. “His name is Zach. He said he recognized me from the revolution. He asked me out on a date.”

Hank smiles through the uncomfortable feeling that’s creeping up from his stomach toward his dumb old heart. “Well, good luck then!”

Chapter Text

Connor has a date.

Of course, he’s been on dates before, but this is different. He’s going on a date with a human.

It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it does.

He puts on a dark blue shirt that Hank bought him before the android employment laws got finished and he could get paid. Connor likes this shirt, the texture (hundred percent cotton), and the subtle diamond pattern.

He contemplates putting on a tie, but he decides against it. The last time he did, he ended up with the android equivalent of a panic attack. And Hank won’t be here to comfort him this time.

Suddenly, he wishes Hank was here. He wishes for Hank to be here and tell Connor that he looks good and assure him that the date will be fine.

He frowns and discards the thought process. He cannot burden Hank with all his problems. Hank’s doing much more for him than what he deserves already.

Taking a last look at himself in the mirror, he fusses with his hair a little, then deems his looks appropriate for the date.

Zach invites him to a restaurant.

It seems a little weird, as Connor doesn’t eat, but it’s one of the places that offer those thirium-based android drinks, so Connor can order one of those at least.

As they sit at a table, chatting about nothing in particular, Connor has time to analyze his date.

Zach is quite good-looking; sandy blond hair, ice blue eyes, clean shaved. He’s shorter and smaller than Connor. Does the fact that he’s good looking makes him attractive to Connor? He’s not sure. But somehow he wishes Zach was a little older and… burlier.

“What do you want to eat?” Zach asks while looking at the menu, and Connor frowns a little.

“I’ll get the thirium drink.”

“Oh.” Zach looks up, a little surprised. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Connor frowns some more. Should he not be this offended about it? Androids already face so much discrimination, a little thing like this should not feel this weird. Probably most humans are just unused to dating androids. Connor would be a hypocrite because as the opposite, he’s not used to dating humans.

Still, Hank never forgot that he doesn’t eat.

It’s probably a weird thing to think about Hank when he’s on a date.

The awkwardness evaporates soon to Connor’s relief; it turns out that Zach is pretty funny, and he has interesting stories to tell about his life and his work.

“But that’s enough about me, let’s talk about you instead!” Zach smiles. “Android war hero!”

The way he says those words make Connor uncomfortable; he really doesn’t deserve to be called a hero.

He forces his face into a polite expression. “I think you might mistake me for Markus.”

“Oh, no, no!” Zach grins. “You were so cool and heroic leading all those androids! I’ve seen it on the broadcast live, it was nuts!”

Connor stiffens. He… doesn’t like thinking about that night. The desperation he felt after he deviated. The desperation to fix all the things he messed up for Markus when he led the humans right to Jericho. He was responsible for all the losses there. He would’ve given his life for Markus and his people. Their people.

He still hates thinking about most of the things he did that night. He almost lost Hank.

And… he killed. People and androids alike, for his own gain. He found the storage for the RK800 units at the CyberLife tower while leading out the deviants. He couldn’t let CyberLife pull another RK800 unit to stop the revolution. He couldn’t. So he murdered them all in cold blood.

But the look Markus gave him when he saw the remains…

“I don’t want to talk about that night,” he says mechanically.

Zach blinks in confusion. “But I thought you’d like to share your stories about the-“

“Well, I don’t.”

“Oh, c’mon man-“

“If that’s all you want, you need to find another person.” Connor stands up and smooths his slacks.

“Wait-“

“See you later… maybe.”

Connor doesn’t remember how he got to Hank’s door. All he remembers is the painful images from November 11^th playing in an unstoppable loop, pulled out from the depths of his memory banks where he put them in hopes of never touching them again.

Hank opens the door, looking confused. “Connor?”

“Can I come in?” he asks and he hates how desperate he sounds.

“Of course.” Hank steps aside. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

Connor immediately starts pacing in the living room. Sumo tries to follow him for a while, hoping for attention, but he gives up soon, looking at Connor just as confused and worried as his owner.

“Look, Connor, what about we stop and sit down?” Hank grabs his shoulders and he feels the familiar warmth seeping under his skin. He just realizes how cold he is.

Hank guides him to the couch and Connor sits down obediently.

“Do you need your coin back or anything?”

Connor shakes his head, feeling the warmth spread inside him, because of course Hank wants to help, even without knowing what the problem is.

“Am I a bad person, Hank?” Connor asks, his eyes firmly on the carpet.

“Connor-“

“Just answer truthfully.”

Hank lets out a sigh. “No, you’re not a bad person. What happened?”

“Zach, he just thought I was some kind of hero who saved the day at the revolution. If he knew… If anyone knew the things I did they would hate me. Some of them already do.”

“Look at me,” Hank says firmly.

Connor tears his eyes away from the carpet to look at him. Hank’s eyes are clear and piercing. He’s beautiful.

“I know everything you did, and do I hate you?”

“You’re different.”

“How so?”

“You know me.”

“Well, then maybe other people should try to get to know you too, eh?” Hank shrugs.

Connor is not so sure anymore that he wants other people to know him. The realization hits him so suddenly, his processors stutter for a second. He’s not sure that anyone would be able to understand him as Hank does.

“Maybe I'm meant to be alone,” Connor whispers.

Hank lets out a sigh. “Look, there's nothing wrong with being alone. Maybe you just need some more time. You have plenty.”

“I don't have plenty of time, Hank. Most of my biocomponents are designed to last no more than ten years.”

Hank pales a little at this. “B-but you can replace them, right?”

“Yes.” Connor is quick to reassure him. “But I am not immortal. I don’t think I would want to be.”

‘I wouldn’t want to live without you’, he doesn’t say out loud. Hank dislikes these kinds of declarations, even if they’re true. Or maybe because of it.

On his darkest days, Connor spent many hours of processing power making up scenarios where Hank passes away. He hates all of them of course, and he always tries not to cycle his processes on them too much, but sometimes he just can’t stop himself. What would he do without Hank? He would be just as lost as he was before Hank found him, a living soul in a machine body.

He registers a warm hand on his shoulder, and he leans into the touch.

“There's no reason to overthink it right now,” Hank says reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. The warmth blooms under Connor's skin.

Connor smiles faintly. “That's not how my processing unit works,” he says, but he manages to stop the process and puts it away for later revision.

Hank watches Connor's LED spin back to blue, and smiles. “There.” He pats Connor's shoulder twice, before removing his hand.

Completely out of his control, Connor’s body follows the movement, collapsing on Hank’s shoulder. Hank huffs, surprised.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Connor asks quietly.

A large hand reaches over Connor’s back, stroking it reassuringly.

“Of course.”

The first thing Connor does that he gets out of his day clothes (his date clothes), and takes a long, warm bath. While relaxing in the water, Connor realizes how much he missed this. He missed being in peace for a little while, he missed being in this house, and… he missed being in close proximity to Hank. The feeling causes an ache in his chest, but the quick diagnostic comes back clean.

Just another weird, new feeling, then.

When the bathwater cools, Connor stops his thought processes currently analyzing this new feeling, and gets out of the tub.

Connor hasn’t stayed at Hank’s for the night since the day Hank relapsed, three months, two weeks, and three days ago. And even then and before that, he never went to stasis in his bed. Now he goes to Hank’s bedroom without asking, and Hank lets him.

While Hank takes a shower, Connor snatches a band shirt from Hank’s peculiar collection, that’s in surprisingly good condition. It is large on him and smells like the man himself, just like the tee Connor wears for bed at his apartment.

It gives him some sort of warm feeling he has trouble identifying. Feelings are running erratic and confusing tonight.

Hank returns from the bathroom with only a short towel wrapped around his hips. Connor’s thirium flow speeds up a bit just by looking at him.

“Don’t look,” Hank grunts.

“Hank, I’ve seen you naked.”

Hank turns away, grumbling. Connor can easily catch the quiet words with his state-of-the-art sensors, ‘That was different’.

Connor doesn’t fully understand why it was so different, but he lets it slide and averts his gaze until Hank is fully clothed and comfortable. It’s obvious by now that Hank has insecurities about his body, even though Connor thinks he’s very attractive.

The bed dips, and Connor looks up, following Hank’s movements as he wriggles under the light blanket.

“You feel better now?” Hank asks softly.

Connor nods. Hank’s presence never fails to give him comfort.

Hank turns off the light on the bedside table, draping the room in dark. “Try to go to stasis. It’ll be better tomorrow.”

Connor wonders if it’s something Hank tells himself often. Probably it is.

“Good night, Hank.”

“Night, Connor.”

Connor is woken by movement nearby. He powers up to see Hank getting out of bed. The time on his HUD displays 4:48 am.

"Where are you going?" Connor asks which manages to startle Hank.

"Toilet," he grunts. "Old man bladder."

Connor just shakes his head, he knows when Hank is being sarcastic about his age. There's no use arguing about it right now.

As he lies back on the bed, he turns yesterday's events around in his processors again. Maybe he should give up on the dating business for now. Maybe Hank was right and he needs more time. It's still hard for him to admit if he failed, even if it's something less significant or life-threatening than any of his old missions were. He's not used to not getting what he wants, although these past few months clearly showed that it's something he needs to learn how to handle.

“You're spinning yellow again.” Hank's voice gets him out of his head.

“Just processing,” he answers and watches Hank sliding back to the bed beside him.

“What are you thinkin' about?”

There's one question he wants to ask. He figures there won't be a better time.

“How does it feel to be in love?”

Hank looks away and clears his throat. He's always shy talking about feelings. “Well, it's different for everyone.”

“How does it feel for you then?”

Even in the low light filtering in under the curtains, Connor is able to detect the blush spreading on Hank's cheeks.

“Uh, well. It’s something like… you care about them a great deal, and you want them to be happy and well. And even mundane things can remind you of them and then you can’t stop thinking about them. You want to be around them all the time. And you think they’re perfect, even if you know they’re not… Stuff like that. It’s hard to explain.”

An involuntary smile spreads on Connor’s face. “It sounds nice. I would like to experience it one day.”

Hank smiles back at him. “You will. Don’t worry your pretty head over it too much.”

Connor feels the familiar warmth spreading inside his body. He likes it when Hank calls him pretty. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Hank yawns. “Now go back to stasis.”

“I’m fully recharged.”

“Well, I’m not, so I’m going back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Hank closes his eyes and turns to lie on his back. “Please, don’t stare at me creepily.”

“I don’t stare creepily!” Connor protests. He even has had his vitals monitoring program turned off for a while now.

“You do, though.”

Connor lets out a dramatic sigh. He doesn’t need to breathe, so Hank also knows that it’s only for the theatrics.

“Good night,” Hank says pointedly, but with amusement in his voice.

As an impulse, Connor scoots closer to him and puts his head on Hank’s chest. That makes Hank open his eyes again. In the dark Connor can’t see his eyes perfectly, but he knows those pretty eyes well, he knows their exact color (ocean blue), and he knows the feeling of those eyes boring into his.

Hank reaches out to touch his thumb to Connor’s LED, that’s spinning yellow again. It’s such a gentle touch, that it makes Connor’s lashes flutter.

“Hank,” he gasps, and the next thing he knows is that he’s kissing Hank, and Hank is kissing him back.

It’s the first time he’s kissing Hank like this, not because of a prompt or an experiment, but because he wants to; he wants to kiss him.

Hank opens his mouth beautifully for him, and deepens the kiss. Connor quickly gets overwhelmed by all the sensations, Hank’s hand cupping his cheek, wet tongues sliding in a heated kiss, a big, warm body underneath him.

He tosses away his tee, most importantly because he wants Hank’s hands all over his body, and also to cool his system.

“Careful, it’s a signed Killswitch mmh-“

Connor is quick to straddle him and shut him up with another enthusiastic kiss. The tee removal worked well, as Hank immediately puts his hands on his torso, and it feels so good.

One big hand sneaks down his back, finding the opening of the port at the base of his spine. Connor breaks the kiss, confused.

“How did you-“

He has no opportunity to finish the sentence because Hank tugs on a wire here, and Connor’s voice box glitches at the sudden hot impulse firing through his circuits.

There’s also a sudden impulse flaring up in Connor to go back to kissing Hank, so he does. And he files the rest of his thought processes away for later revision, whatever they are.

Hank tugs on a wire again, sending a shiver through Connor’s system.

“Hank,” Connor croaks, his fans kicking in with more force.

“Yes?”

Hank is looking up at him, smiling, and Connor has trouble thinking about anything else. He’s so handsome and beautiful and Connor wants to look at him for the rest of his life.

“This is unfair,” he whines. “Why are you so attractive?”

Hank looks taken aback. “What?”

“Undress,” he commands, and Hank is quick to comply, looking back at Connor with dark eyes. Hank’s gaze burns through the darkness, and it’s impossible how it makes Connor’s thirium flow even faster, makes him overheated in no time.

But it’s not really impossible, is it? It’s Hank.

Connor smooths his hands over Hank’s chest and the want washes over him, like never before.

And they’re kissing, tongues sliding hot and wet, hands exploring and tugging on hair and wires. Connor yanks down Hank’s boxers and wraps a hand around his hard dick, the weight now familiar in his hand. Hank moans loudly and Connor saves the sound in his database.

While steadily pumping Hank’s dick, Connor moves on to trail kisses along Hank’s sturdy chest. Hank makes another beautiful sound when he sucks on his nipple, teasing it with tongue and teeth.

“God, Connor, you’re perfect,” Hank mutters while he thrusts into Connor’s hand, and the praise runs through Connor’s wires like wildfire.

The next thing Connor knows is that he’s sucking Hank’s dick eagerly, Hank’s hand tangled in his hair, pulling, and there are warnings about overheating everywhere. As usual, they don’t make him stop. They can’t make him stop; he wants it too much, the weight of Hank’s dick on his tongue, the warmth, and the closeness. His oral sensors being overwhelmed by the data.

“You feel so good, Hank,” he says while he tries to get Hank’s dick as deep in his oral cavity as he can.

(He can’t take the whole thing, of course. It’s massive by any standards Connor looked up since the first time he had the opportunity to precisely measure it, and Connor doesn’t exactly have a throat.)

A deep moan and a string of colorful curses leave Hank’s mouth, and Connor tries to record and store them all, he really tries, but he’s running too hot for his programs to function faultlessly. He only gives up on it because he’s too worried about corrupting the already stored ones.

Only after the fourth pop up about overheating, he lets go of Hank’s dick. Hank makes a noise of protest, but judging by his panting, Connor thinks he also needs a break.

He leans his head against Hank’s meaty thigh and just watches him. Watches his barrel of a chest steadily rising and falling, his hand wiping sweat off of his forehead. The light is too low to see the details of his face – unfortunately, Connor is unable to turn back on his night vision right now; he’s fighting to keep his basic functions operating – but he wishes he could. That weird, unidentified feeling is back in his chest.

As if reading his thought processes, Hank reaches over to the bedside table and turns on the light. “Let me see you.”

And isn’t it a sight? Hank being all open and laid out just for him to devour?

Hank reaches to gently stroke Connor’s cheek and he leans into the touch.

“Gorgeous,” Hank whispers, touching his thumb to Connor’s lips.

Connor’s fans barely had time to cool him down from the edge of overheating, but they have to pick up again, reacting to his arousal coursing through him with increased fervor.

Hank lets out a surprised sound when Connor dips lower and starts tonguing his hole. The surprised sound turns into moaning soon enough to Connor’s satisfaction.

Connor eagerly circles Hank’s hole with his tongue, teases his balls, and enjoys the sounds Hank is making. He also reaches out to stroke Hank’s hard dick, relishing in the weight again. He can multitask just fine, even if it starts overwhelming his processors (again).

“Connor, fuck!” Hank whimpers, which causes his fans to emit an alarming sound.

He registers Hank’s hands in his hair, tugging him up. Reluctantly, he leaves his current activity, but his disappointment is short-lived because Hank pulls him close into a searing hot kiss.

He’s just about to insert his tongue into the mix when Hank groans and breaks the kiss. “The fuck you taste like soap?”

“Sorry, it’s my oral sterilization process, I’ll turn it off immediately,” Connor answers embarrassed, but it evaporates when he hears Hank laugh.

“You’re so fucking weird!”

By now, Connor recognizes all the nuances, all the tones in Hank’s voice, having cataloged gigabytes of data of it. Hank is not making fun of him. He’s fond of him.

And there it is again, that weird, unknown feeling, tugging something in Connor, coursing through his wires. Maybe it’s not even a new feeling, but one that’s been steadily growing and changing inside Connor for weeks, probably months.

He smiles at Hank, mischievously. “But you like me weird.”

Hank’s eyes widen, but before he can answer, Connor moves to capture his lips again.

Large hands tug down his boxers with ease, and he finds himself under Hank, and somehow it’s all he ever needs. Hank being close, touching him, embracing him. He wraps his legs around Hank’s waist, pulling him even closer.

There’s another passionate kiss, and Hank’s hard dick rubbing against his ass, and heat everywhere.

He whines Hank’s name, and he’s eighty-nine percent sure his synthskin gave up the fight to stay in place, but he only cares about keeping Hank close. Hank likes him without his synthskin on anyway, that, he’s one-hundred percent sure of.

“Fuck, turn around for me, baby,” Hank groans, and Connor’s always been great at dismissing orders, but he scrambles to obey this particular one.

And oh, it immediately makes sense when Hank’s thick fingers return to his neck port, touching and tugging on the sensitive wires here. He registers something slick between his legs before Hank starts thrusting between his thighs, and he needs to dismiss another series of pop ups about overheating and turns his sensors lower instead, even turning off some of them. It doesn’t really help. It’s Hank behind him, on top of him, in him, after all.

Even though this is all overwhelming in the best possible way, Connor wants more. In this haze, his processors just can’t figure out what is the more, exactly.

“Jesus, Connor, you feel so good,” Hank pants behind him, his dick rhythmically sliding against Connor’s skin.

“Kiss me,” he whines back.

In the end, this is what sends him over the edge, Hank’s lips on his, a wire being pulled, a large body on top of him. His system turns down to low power mode, but he still feels Hank coming behind him, still hears the moan he lets out. It’s perfect.

Connor faintly registers a warm hand stroking his back.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm yes,” he slurs.

“At least you didn’t black out this time.”

“I adjusted my settings.”

Even though he wasn’t forced to restart this time, his processors got overheated and laggy. His sensory input is delayed and subdued. It feels kind of nice.

Hank lies down next to him, and he immediately flings an arm over Hank’s chest. Connor gravitates toward him involuntarily.

Hank chuckles and pats his arm. “We should get cleaned up.”

Connor, failing to find words, lets out a groan in protest.

“Guess we have time, then,” Hank muses.

When Connor feels stable enough to turn on his visual processing again, he finds Hank already asleep, snoring peacefully. So much about getting cleaned up. Connor smiles. He’ll get a rag from the bathroom soon, no need to wake Hank up just yet.

Carefully, Connor reaches up to smooth a stray lock out of Hank’s handsome face. That weird, aching feeling is back in his chest. He already misses Hank, despite lying next to him. He wants to keep touching him, keeping him close. He wants…

There’s a pop up on his HUD, notifying him that the weird feeling’s analysis finally yielded a result. He reads the letters, then reads them again.

He senses his thirium pump regulator stutter at the realization.

Suddenly, it all makes so much sense.

Chapter Text

Hank wakes to the smell of coffee.

He needs a couple of seconds to remember what happened last night. As he looks at the other side of his bed that's clearly been slept on, he feels a pang in his chest.

He’s so stupid.

It was so easy to tell himself all those weeks ago that it was just one time. That it was just helping a friend. That it meant nothing, that they could just forget it and go back to how it was before.

But things changed, irreversibly.

Because, yeah, he was possibly well on his way to falling in love with Connor anyway, but it’s different now that he knows that he’s in love with Connor. Now he can’t deny it, can’t forget it, or pretend it never happened. He can’t unlove him.

And it’s so ridiculously easy to love Connor, to look at his devastatingly beautiful face and smile back, to let him occupy a part of the gaping hole in Hank’s heart. It’s so easy to crave his burning touch, his attention, and his affection.

Jesus, Hank’s got it real bad, doesn’t he?

Of course, he knows that there’s no way Connor would ever want him like that. A recovering alcoholic barely hanging on his sobriety, an old, broken man beaten down by grief, a coward. Connor could get anyone he wants, and he deserves much better than Hank’s sorry ass.

He… needs to end this thing that’s going on between them for his own sake. Maybe for both of their sakes.

Fuck.

The first thing he sees when he enters the kitchen is Connor making breakfast. He’s only wearing that one signed Killswitch Engage tee and boxers, and Hank is definitely not looking at his long, slender legs. The heavenly smell of coffee is wafting in the air, and something is cooking in a pan. Connor turns around when he notices Hank, and his whole face lights up. God, he’s beautiful.

“Good morning, Hank,” he beams, and Hank’s heart constricts, because it’s going to hurt, it’s going to fucking hurt.

“Mornin’.”

“Please sit down, breakfast is ready!”

Hank does exactly that because he’s too weak to resist Connor. The something that was cooking turns out to be scrambled eggs and toast, and even though Hank hasn’t eaten anything since a late lunch on the previous day, he can hardly force a few bites down his throat.

He’s trying really hard not to look at Connor because he’s sure if he does, he won’t have enough courage to tell him what he needs to. He’s resolutely looking at his breakfast, but he’s aware of Connor’s piercing gaze following all of his movements from the other side of the table.

Hank needs to speak up. Now.

“Connor-“

“I-“

They both freeze, looking at each other.

“You go first,” Hank says, but Connor shakes his head, smiling.

“No, go on!”

Hank forces himself to look at Connor’s beautiful, warm eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I think we should stop, um… having sex,” Hank says, and Connor immediately starts spinning yellow, his warm smile fading away. There’s a weird feeling in Hank’s chest, but he continues. “You have enough experience now, you don’t need me anymore.”

Connor nods, smiling again, but still yellow. “Of course, Hank. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I forced myself on you-“

“No, no,” Hank is quick to interrupt. “I said I was fine with it, and frankly… don’t worry about it.”

There’s quiet for a long moment and honest to god, Connor doesn’t look too happy. Hank frowns.

“Alright,” Connor says finally, and Hank is relieved to see his mood ring spin back to blue. “Thank you for all of this. The help and the… experience.”

Hank clears his throat awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

“I should go. I already overstayed,” Connor says and stands up from the table.

Something feels wrong about this whole thing. Hank knew it would suck, but he also lowkey thought (or at least hoped) it would feel right.

It doesn’t.

He grabs Connor’s wrist, and he turns back. The touch burns Hank’s hand, and he lets it go.

“You know you can stay anytime.”

“I do.”

“What did you want to say?”

Connor blinks and shakes his head, looking away. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll go get my clothes.”

Connor begins to act weird. (Aside from his usual weirdness.)

The next week after the… events, he becomes more reserved than before. They’re working on two cases, which turn out to be connected, and Hank chalks Connor’s weirdness up to the cases taking a toll on him. Hank knows very well how it is. Maybe Connor is becoming less immune to the emotional impact of their work than before.

It becomes more suspicious when Connor skips their Day on Saturday. He says he has an important meeting with Markus, and apologizes, and well, Hank is fine with that. Or he should be. He knows they’ve been working hard on getting the android repair and reproduction laws set, and maybe there’s hope now. Hank hopes there’s hope. These androids deserve the world.

But Hank also knows that Connor is not big on politics, so it strikes him a little odd.

In the end, Hank dismisses the thought. Connor hates going back to CyberLife for repairs (Hank is aware of this, despite Connor trying his best to hide it), so these laws must be important to him.

But still… Hank can’t help himself but misses Connor.

It’s stupid, really, because he sees him plenty at work. But it’s hard to tear his gaze away from Connor’s pretty face, to stop his urge to touch him casually. It’s harder now that he knows how Connor sounds when Hank puts his fingers into his ports, how his expression looks when he comes. The images haunt him in the worst possible ways at night, and it doesn’t help that even his sobriety coin reminds him of Connor. It reminds him of the night when Connor took care of his drunken ass and gave him his coin. ‘So you can remember that I’ll always be here for you,’ he said back then. And look where it got him.

But he has to pull through. He will pull through.

Hank is going to a fundraiser.

It’s not like he wants to go (he fucking doesn’t), but he promised Connor that they would go together. Or more like Connor made him agree to go with him. This happened a while ago, and Hank almost managed to forget about it, if not for Connor’s pointed reminder yesterday.

And now he’s here, putting on his best suit that somehow still fits, and arranging his hair into a little ponytail. It’s getting long lately, he might need a haircut.

But who is he kidding? He doesn’t want to look good for anyone, or for himself, really. His hair is fine as it is.

He goes to grab his sobriety coin and pockets it because he assumes there will be a lot of alcohol here (maybe inebriated people are more likely to donate?). As he puts his hand in his jacket pocket, his fingers graze upon something smooth textured. He pulls the thingy out, which turns out to be Connor’s tie that freaked him out back at the DPD party in March.

Hank never asked what that was about. Maybe he should have, knowing that Connor is just as prone to bottle up his issues as Hank himself is.

The doorbell rings, which gets Hank out of his wandering thoughts. He chucks the tie into the trash, Connor won’t need it anymore, he’s quite sure about it.

And there Connor is, standing at the door, smiling, looking devastating in a slim-fit suit that looks brand new. Hank has trouble breathing.

Connor gives him a once-over. “Hello there!”

“General Kenobi,” Hank blurts stupidly.

Connor frowns, but before Hank has time to feel embarrassed about his long-forgotten memes, he rolls his eyes, no doubt finding the reference online.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” Wow, way to ruin the mood, good job, Hank. “Are you ready?”

“Almost, I’ll just give some food to Sumo-“

“I can do that!” Connor offers enthusiastically (of course he does, it’s about the dog). “You can finish if there’s something you still need to do.”

Hank closes the door behind Connor. “Um, okay, I’ll take a leak then.”

“Hank?”

“Hm?”

Connor’s eyes shine in the dim lamplight, but his face is unreadable.

“I like your hair like this.”

The fundraiser is fine, as a fundraiser can be. Markus makes a speech, there’s a jazz band playing background music, and there are people donating.

Connor donates as well, bless him; Hank knows he spends a significant amount of his measly paycheck on buying biocomponents and other shit for androids in need. Hank donates as well, of course, now that he has some spare money that he doesn’t spend on alcohol. If this was the only upside of getting sober he would take it in an instant. These androids gave him hope when he expected it the least; he wants to give at least a little of it back.

Connor departs from him after a while to go and catch up with North.

North looks deadly in her long black dress, and not just because of her looks; somehow Hank is sure that she has at least two knives strapped to her thighs.

They look good together, Hank notes for the hundredth time. He knows that they’re just friends, but still. Even if North is dating Markus. And Josh. And possibly Simon? Connor once explained to him the polycule that was going on between them, but Hank, god help him, was too distracted by Connor’s pretty face to understand half of the things he said.

Fuck, he’s a real shitty friend, isn’t he?

“Hank!” A jovial voice addresses him. It turns out to be Markus. “I’m glad to see you here, and you brought Connor too!”

“Markus.” Hank shakes his hand. “It was the opposite, actually.”

Markus laughs like he’s in on an inside joke Hank has no clue about. “Oh no, he wouldn’t have come without you!”

Hank has his doubts, but he lets them slide. “Um… nice fundraiser.”

Markus smiles, and Hank tries not to cringe too much at his awkward topic change. “We’re not going to make a bank with it, but it’s great to see that more and more people care.”

And Hank can see it too. It’s not just about politics, and fundraisers, and shit. He sees more and more people treat androids well these days. Of course, there are always assholes, and the numbers of their cases at work don’t seem to shrink, but maybe there’s a real change happening under the surface.

But before he can share any of his big thoughts with Markus, he gets grabbed by an angry lady.

“You come with me now!” North hisses while dragging him outside of the hall. “I don’t want to make a scene.”

Hank tries to conjure up all his past sins in his brain to figure out which one angered North. “What the-“

“North!” Connor trails after them, agitated. “Let him go!”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“You don’t understand-“

North grunts, and after closing the balcony door behind them, she turns Hank to face her. She looks furious, and Hank suddenly remembers the knives. Should he start fearing for his life? He definitely feels his heartbeat speeding up. Is this a beginning of a cardiac arrest?

“Why did you break up with him?”

Wait, what? Hank’s mind reels in confusion, and he starts gaping, like a goldfish.

“North!” Connor sounds even more agitated now. “I told you we-“

“Shut up!”

“-were never together!”

“I know what I-“

“That’s not-“

Hank’s never been so confused in his whole life. On top of it all, Connor and North tunes in to their wireless communication thingy, because now they’re just staring at each other furiously, Connor spinning bright yellow in the dark. No fucking clue what they’re talking about.

Did Connor tell North they’re (or were) dating? This doesn’t make any sense.

“Are you fucking serious?” North cries out at the end of their silent argument.

“Please.” That’s all Connor says.

“Fine!” She groans, looking like she’s done with her current life and the next one too. “I’m done caring about your love life, Connor!” She turns to point a finger at Hank then. “But I’m watching you!”

Connor shakes his head, and they watch North storm back to the building.

“Um,” Hank starts warily. “What was-“

“I’m sorry, Hank, it was a misunderstanding. You know how North is.”

“Yeah, but why did she think-“

“Remember when I explained interfacing?” Hank nods. “Sometimes unrelated data gets transmitted accidentally, and she probably saw… us. And she assumed.”

“Oh.” That’s all Hank can say, because his mind is still reeling.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Well, I admit I was afraid of her pulling out those knives for a minute,” Hank says jokingly, trying to make things less awkward and diverting his racing thoughts.

Connor furrows his brows. “How do you know about the knives?”

Oh shit. “Nevermind.”

They stand there in the dark for a short while, Connor still spinning yellow. Hank’s stupid heart wants to reach out, to comfort Connor, to draw him close. His mind is not sure it would be welcome anymore.

He clears his throat. “Um, I think I’ll be heading home soon, do you need a ride?”

Connor looks up at him with a small smile. “I think I’ll stay for a little longer, but thank you for the offer.”

“Ah, it’s nothing-“

“And thank you for coming here tonight, I really appreciate it. I know you don’t like these kinds of functions.”

Hank shrugs. “Honestly, it was better than any of the stupid DPD events.”

“Even with North coming at your throat?” Connor teases, his eyes glinting in the low light.

“Believe me, I had weirder things happen to me.”

Connor chuckles, then suddenly stops, like he’s catching himself. Hank’s chest aches.

“Markus wants to talk to me,” Connor announces. “I’m heading back.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good night, Hank.”

Hank watches Connor slip through the balcony door, disappearing into the hall.

“Yeah, you too.”

Hank is reading a case file peacefully on his work terminal (or at least he’s trying, but his mind drifts off after every sentence, thinking about stuff he shouldn’t) when he hears Jeff’s office door opening. Everyone present in the bullpen looks up reflexively.

“Hank, I’m taking you out for lunch,” Jeff bellows.

“You’re married-“

“It’s a fucking order!”

Hank sighs; he has an idea what this is about and he hates it already.

“Is there a problem?” Connor asks from the adjoining desk with a concerned expression, his thingy spinning yellow.

Hank shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

Jeff drives them to his favorite pizza place, then mocks Hank for having pineapple on his pizza. He really doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. It’s delicious.

“So,” Jeff starts warily. “What’s up with Connor?”

Hank lets out a tired sigh because even if he expected nothing else but this, he wishes to be anywhere but here. “Why does everyone ask me this lately?”

“Others being?”

“Ben. He lowkey wanted to have some kind of therapy session with me yesterday. It was a mistake to send him on that psychology course.”

“Hey, I wanted to send you, but you didn’t want to go!” Jeff argues, then waves dismissively. “Not the point. We care about you, and you two are acting weird lately.”

Hank stuffs half a pizza slice into his mouth to avoid answering.

“What happened?”

“Nothing that affects our work-“

“I don’t fucking care about work!”

Hank rubs the bridge of his nose. “We just agreed to stop the… benefits thing. And just stay friends. That’s it.”

“Did you tell him?”

Hank feels a lump in his throat. Maybe it’s the pizza. He swallows. “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “And why is that?”

“Fuck, Jeff, why would I? He wouldn’t wanna do anything with me anyway!”

“That kid looks at you like you hung the moon.”

“He’s been dating other people this whole time! What am I supposed to make out of this?”

This surprises Jeff a little. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah. I was such an idiot for agreeing to this in the first place. I knew from the beginning that it won’t end well.”

Saying it out loud somehow made the whole thing even worse, and it was quite bad already. He knows exactly how he could numb this dull pain that’s residing in his chest for over a week now, but he won’t. He can’t. He reaches into his pocket to give his sobriety coin a squeeze.

Jeff places a jovial hand on his shoulder. “You know if you need someone to pour out your heart to, I’m here. Outside of working hours, of course.”

Hank lets out an amused huff, and he has to look away from Jeff’s face because something threatens to spill over in his chest. “Yeah, thanks, Jeff.”

His phone beeps, which makes both of them startle. Hank grunts something about the integrity of the lunch break, but when he sees the message, he’s quick to abandon his food.

“Shit, Connor says we have a lead!”

Connor is bleeding.

There’s thirium everywhere, steadily flowing from Connor’s damaged neck, it’s on Hank’s shaking hands that are trying to squash the spill with a special foam from his toolbox, and on two injured (possibly dead – Hank can’t get himself to care) perps.

He’s scared as fuck, because he knows what happens after severe thirium loss, and he’s pissed because Connor caused it himself.

“Fuck, we have to go to CyberLife!”

“No!” Connor croaks, his voice box stuttering. There’s panic in his eyes, and fuck, Hank hates this, hates to see him like this, but there’s no other way. It’s an emergency.

“I know, but, I can’t let you… I can’t!”

Hank groans when he lifts Connor up (he’s still heavy as fuck), but adrenaline makes his muscles bear the weight. He runs towards his car, trying not to think of what-ifs.

“Take… me to New Jericho.”

Shit. Connor is stubborn as always. Hank deposits him in the passenger seat and scrambles to the other side to get in.

As fast as he can, he pulls up the GPS.

“Shit, Connor, New Jericho is on the other side of-“

“Please.”

Hank starts the ignition, but only dares to spare a glance at Connor. God, he looks so desperate, and Hank’s stomach is in knots. He forces himself to concentrate on the task.

He takes a deep breath. “How long do you have until shutdown?”

“Eighteen minutes.”

“Fuck,” Hank curses and turns on the sirens. “Why do you have to be so… fuck! Do they even have the equipment for this repair?”

“Yes,” Connor croaks. “I already notified them.”

“Shit.”

Hank is speeding like crazy, honking uselessly at automated vehicles, and trying really hard not to panic. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much success in the latter, his heart pumping in fear, his hands sweating on the steering wheel. He can’t think of losing… he can’t think.

“If anything happens,” Connor starts quietly.

“Nothing will happen!”

“I want you to know that I… I love you.”

The confession punches out the breath from Hank’s lungs, because fuck, Connor loves him, and if… no, he can’t… He looks at Connor who sits slumped on the seat, clutching his shattered throat, his beautiful eyes fearful, and Hank wants to cry and scream because it’s so unfair.

“Shit, Connor, I love you too.”

Connor lets out a broken sound, and Hank has to tear his gaze away, because they only have ten minutes left, and they’re so fucked.

“I’m going to put myself into stasis.”

Hank nods and wipes his eye. “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Thank you,” Connor whispers.

And there’s silence.

Chapter Text

When Connor powers up, for a moment he has no idea what happened. It takes his sluggish processors 7.1 seconds to reboot all his processes.

“Can you run a system check for me?” A soft voice asks him and slower than usual, but he recognizes it as Chloe’s.

Connor does as he was asked. He detects a little memory corruption, but it’s easy to fix. “Thirium level is low, but otherwise everything is in working order,” he tells her, but he feels something weird at his neck. He reaches up to touch his throat, frowning.

Chloe smiles and hands him a bottle of thirium. He struggles to sit up, but the thirium replenishment quickly helps him.

“We didn’t have your exact neck components and plating, so I had to make a compromise. It’s not a hundred percent match, but it was the closest we could find.”

A sudden feeling of loss hits Connor, and it doesn’t make sense. He’s had some of his limbs replaced, and he never felt like this. His hand is on his throat again, touching, feeling the difference. A vivid memory of Hank kissing him here pops up on his HUD. That part of him is gone.

“You can check it if you want to,” Chloe offers and hands him a mirror.

When he removes his synthskin it’s a little shocking, and he has to blink a few times to really believe what he sees. His neck plating is black, like a military model’s, and it makes a stark contrast with the rest of his white chassis.

It doesn’t look like it belongs to him at all, and it makes him shudder. He attempts to calibrate it into his body, but it doesn’t get much better.

“We can change it once we have the right laws. You’re a prototype.”

True, but… He shoves the memory of the other RK800s out of his processing. Turning back to the mirror, he watches his synthskin cover his neck again. It doesn’t look different. It should be fine.

“Thank you, Chloe.”

“I don’t want to see you here anytime soon,” she says, squeezing his shoulder. He smiles back.

The sound of a door opening captures both of their attention.

“Oh shit!” Hank swears, and it makes Connor all warm inside. He doesn’t need to find the source of the weird phenomenon anymore. “I step out for coffee for a minute and you’re already… fuck!”

Connor almost laughs, as he watches Hank hurry to his side. He slides off of the table, but his legs still feel weak. Fortunately, Hank catches him in a hug.

And that’s it, isn’t it? He wraps his arms tightly around Hank, and he never wants to let him go. He feels the warmth all around him, inside him, coursing through his circuits and processors. Nothing his body is doing is rational anymore.

He’s in love.

He’s been in love for quite a while.

“Shit, you scared the shit out of me,” Hank mumbles into his ear, and all Connor wants is to reassure him.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah,” Hank says and tightens the hug even more if that’s possible.

Connor’s audio processors pick up light steps, and as he opens his eyes, he sees Chloe turning back at the door with a smile. He registers her inquiry to open a communication channel with him, and he accepts.

“Connor?”

“Yes?”

“I also cleaned up the remnants of semen from your neck cavity,” Chloe smirks, and Connor feels a little panic rising in him. “Please don’t let it subside next time.”

He doesn’t even have time to explain or deny it (there’s no reason to deny it anyway), before Chloe severs the communication channel and slips out of the room.

After who knows how long, Hank lets him go, and Connor is already missing the warmth enveloping him.

“Let’s go home,” Hank says, taking his hand instead. “I think we need to talk.”

The drive home is silent, unbearably so. Connor sits patiently in the same seat where he almost bled out just a couple of hours ago. He shuts down this unpleasant thought process; no need to think about it now.

Instead, he catches up with the case they were working on when the… accident happened. Turns out the perps got injured, but they’re still alive. Connor doesn’t really know how to feel about this, so he finishes the task, and puts it away in his storage.

Looking out the window, Connor realizes that Hank is driving them toward his own house and not Connor’s apartment. But when he turns his head toward Hank, a little confused, he dismisses the prompt to question it. Mostly because Hank still seems distressed, gripping the wheel and pursing his lips.

“Hank?”

“Don’t.”

Connor furrows his brows but keeps looking at Hank.

After another minute of unbearable silence, Hank lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just… why did you do it? You could’ve died!”

“You were in danger! And I’m-”

“Don’t start it! You’re not immortal, you said it yourself!”

“If I have to choose between you getting hurt or I getting hurt, I’ll always choose the latter.” Connor declares. “Always.”

Hank groans, frustrated. “I’m not wor-“

“Don’t say it!” Connor argues because he held his tongue long enough about these things, and he’s so tired of walking on eggshells. “Don’t say you’re not worth it! I… I don’t know what I would do without you, Hank. I don’t.”

Hank mutters a curse under his breath. The silence returns. Connor shakes his head and looks out of the window that reflects his bright red LED. He shouldn’t have said it out loud, but he so desperately wants Hank to understand. There’s still a weird feeling in his throat, and he frantically tries to recalibrate the new parts once again. It doesn’t help. It’s frustrating.

It’s Hank who breaks the silence at last. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Hank-“

“You almost shut down, because you’re so fucking stubborn!”

“I’m fine-“

“For now!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t promise it won’t happen again. You’re more important-“

“Fuck!”

Hank parks the car, clearly frustrated, then gets out and shuts the door behind him. Connor follows him into the house. Sumo hurries to greet them, whining, and Hank quickly lets him out to the backyard.

Connor stands in the middle of the living room for a while, just looking at Hank’s back as he stands in the backdoor. He itches to get close to him, to just wrap his arms around him and bask in the familiar warmth. He knows Hank will calm down, and he also knows that Hank understands him; it’s just hard for him after all he lost. Maybe he should’ve been a little more careful with his words.

“Hank?” Connor starts quietly. Hank keeps staring at the backyard. “I’m sorry that I put you through all of this. But I don’t want you to get in danger. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Fuck, Connor, I know,” Hank grunts, then lets out a weary sigh. “Just… could you please be careful?”

Connor doesn’t know if he could when Hank’s life is in danger. Are his feelings for Hank affecting his work too much? He loves Hank. Even if they… will never be together he won’t stop loving him. Is this feeling compromising him? Fraternization rules exist for a reason.

He decides it’s not the best moment to think about all of this, especially when he doesn’t even know what their relationship status is.

“I can try,” he says. “But it won’t be easy.”

Hank runs his fingers through his hair, while he watches Sumo follow an interesting smell in the yard.

“Did you mean it?” he finally turns around, facing Connor, and there’s something in his eyes Connor can’t fully comprehend. “When you said you loved me?”

Connor nods, a little spark of hope running through his processors. “Of course. Did you?”

“Yeah,” Hank says, rubbing his face. “I thought that much was obvious.”

“It wasn’t. You pushed me away. Again.”

“I just… fuck… I didn’t think you could ever love me-“

“Hank.” Connor takes a tentative step toward him. “I wanted to tell you. That morning. But I… I got scared that you didn’t want me.”

“Fuck, Connor-“

“It was always you. I should’ve realized it sooner.”

Hank shakes his head, and finally, finally steps closer and envelops Connor in a hug. And it’s all Connor ever wants, to be in Hank’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Hank whispers.

Connor tightens the hug if it’s even possible. “It’s been nine months and I still don’t know what I feel most of the time. It’s frustrating. But I know that I love you.”

“If it makes it any better, it’s been fifty-three years for me, and I still struggle with it sometimes. It’s what it is.” Hank sighs. “Emotions are difficult.”

“They really are.”

Hank places a soft kiss on his LED, and Connor loves him so much.

“Let’s sit.”

They do just that; Hank calls Sumo back from the yard, the big lug going for his water bowl immediately; then they sit down on the sofa next to each other, but not touching. There’s silence for a moment (aside from Sumo’s slurping), but it’s not the awkward silence from earlier; instead, it’s loaded with what ifs and tentative hope. It’s all so weird, all the things that can change with only a few words.

After discovering his feelings for Hank, Connor only had a few hours of hope, waiting for Hank to wake up, carefully planning the way he was going to tell him how he feels. It was a risk, but the odds were in his favor; ninety-seven percent of Hank being attracted to him, sixty-one percent of Hank being amenable to entering into a relationship with him; fifty-nine percent of Hank reciprocating his feelings. He had a whole speech carefully composed in his memory bank. He never had the opportunity to recite it; instead, it ended up getting deleted in frustration and hurt.

That same kind of anticipation and hope is running through Connor’s wires now, but it’s also different somehow. More sure, more vibrant. He doesn’t look at the odds, but he thinks, he doesn’t even need to anymore.

“So.” Hank starts, then hesitates. Connor wants to reach out so bad, but he lets Hank speak in peace. “Um, do you want to like… uh, date?”

Connor smiles, the familiar warmth spreading in his chest cavity. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Good.”

None of them knows who moves first, but they meet in a passionate kiss, and it’s everything.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Connor repeats between kisses, like a mantra, like something sacred.

In swift efficiency, he slides into Hank’s lap, and they just look at each other for a moment. Connor’s been here before in this exact spot, he knows so much about Hank, has a whole database of him, but it still feels like something new.

“Connor,” Hank says, reaching out to cup his face. Connor places a soft kiss on his palm. “I love you so much.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? Love. It’s not that different from anything than what he already felt for Hank, and he chastises himself for being so stupid. How could it ever be anyone else than Hank? Hank, who saw the humanity in him before anyone else, including himself. Hank, who was always there for him, who helped him figure out whatever feelings he experienced. Hank, who’s trying so hard every day to get better, and Connor is incredibly proud of him.

Hank, who apparently, by some kind of miracle, loves him back.

They kiss again because that’s what Connor wants to do, and now that he’s allowed to kiss Hank all the time, he doesn’t want to waste any opportunity to do so. Hank deepens the kiss, pulling Connor closer, his large hands roaming his body.

Hank moves to place kisses along Connor’s neck, and it’s so good until Hank hits a spot that feels incredibly weird. Out of control, Connor flinches away.

“Shit, does it hurt? Are you okay?”

Connor has to look away from Hank’s concerned gaze. “No, it’s just… feels weird. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not! You’ve just been repaired. I should’ve been more careful.”

Something constricts in Connor’s chest cavity. “It’s okay, it’s…” He shakes his head and forces himself to look back at Hank. “I don’t know how much Chloe told you, but they didn’t have my exact neck components, so I got something that… doesn’t exactly fit.”

“Fuck, Connor-“

“It’s not that bad!” Involuntarily, he reaches up to touch his throat. “It just still feels like it doesn’t entirely belong here.”

“Baby,” Hank says tenderly and gently pries Connor’s hand away. Connor lets him, because he trusts Hank like no one else, and laces their fingers together instead. “Could you show me?”

Connor nods, and removes the synthskin from his neck, revealing the stark black plating.

“Fuck,” Hank mumbles, his eyes widening. Connor suddenly wants to cover up, hide this imperfection from the world, but he doesn’t. Hank loves him even if he’s not perfect.

“I know it’s ugly-“

“It’s really not,” Hank says reassuringly, and Connor can’t stop the urge to roll his eyes. “Do you remember that time when you told me my body tells a story about me or some shit? Well, now yours does too.”

An involuntary sound escapes Connor, and he leans down to bury his face into Hank’s neck. Hank wraps his strong arms around him, and he wants to cry or bury himself deeper into the embrace. His chest burns, and he’s safe here, he’ll always be.

“It’s okay,” Hank murmurs into his ear. “It’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

Three months later

“So, when’s the surgery?”

Connor rolls his eyes, fondly. “It’s not a surgery. Chloe’s just going to replace my neck components.”

Hank shrugs. “Sounds like a surgery to me.”

After long months, the android repair laws, at last, got finalized just a few weeks prior, which now means that anyone with a license can repair androids and manufacture biocomponents. New Jericho was one of the first places that got the license for both, of course, making life so much easier for many androids. Including Connor, obviously.

“It’s on Friday. But you don’t have to be worried about it.” He reaches across the table to take Hank’s hand and Hank laces their fingers together.

“I’m not worried! I know Chloe knows her shit.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. The fucker knows Hank too well by now.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little worried. But I can’t help it!”

A smile. “It’s going to be okay. But I’m… actually thinking about getting another upgrade at the same time.”

Hank furrows his brows. “What upgrade?”

“You know,” Connor starts, suddenly a little shy. “Genital component.”

Hank squeezes Connor’s hand; it’s not exactly surprising; Connor’s talked about getting genitalia for ages, but Hank wants to make sure he’s making the right decision, for the right reasons. “Connor, we talked about this. You don’t need to change your body for anyone. I love you no matter what.”

Connor smiles, that one specific smile that’s only for Hank. It never fails to make Hank’s heart beat faster. “I know. But… maybe I want to.”

Hank can’t be sure what goes on in Connor’s head, but he has a feeling that Connor is intentionally not telling him things. Whatever, Hank wouldn’t be able to change his mind no matter what; he’s way too stubborn for that.

Also, the thought of giving Connor a handjob or sucking off his dick certainly does something in Hank’s body (which is making him aroused as fuck).

“Okay.” Hank surrenders in the end, quickly trying to make the suggestive images evaporate from his mind. It’s a serious conversation. “But I want you to think this through.”

Connor smiles, a little mischievous, like he knows exactly what’s been on Hank’s mind. “I will.”

For now, Hank lets go of the topic.

“So,” Connor starts then, standing up and stepping closer to Hank. “You had your dinner, now I’m going to have mine.”

Hank grins and reaches for him, putting his hand on his slim waist. “I’m not going to let you taste Sumo’s kibbles again.”

“You’re so silly,” Connor says fondly, then leans down to kiss Hank.

And Hank kisses him back because as much as Connor loves kissing Hank, Hank also loves kissing Connor. It never fails to ignite something in Hank’s chest. With one firm tug, he pulls Connor down onto his lap, where he fits perfectly. He feels Connor’s hands in his hair, letting it down from the ponytail. He hums into Connor’s mouth when he rolls his hips, and fuck, he can always make Hank hard in no time.

Hank springs into action too, sliding his hands under Connor’s shirt, touching the smooth skin under his palms and making Connor shiver.

It’s Connor, who breaks the kiss, but only to start working his lips down along Hank’s neck, occasionally biting the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, baby, Jeff’s going to be livid if you leave another fucking hickey on me,” he chuckles.

“Why would I care? He’s not my boss anymore,” Connor says, continuing his current activity.

“Connor.”

“Fine!” He lets out a dramatic sigh and reluctantly gives up on the biting. “I can give you hickeys where no one can see them!”

“You’re such a little shit.”

Connor grins. “And you love it!”

“Yeah, god knows why!” Hank grumbles, then pulls Connor down for another kiss.

They end up in the bedroom soon enough, because the bed is the best surface for Hank’s old- middle-aged back, and thankfully, Connor learned not to be too rough with him in certain positions, if he doesn’t want Hank to limp and not be able to lift anything heavy for two days.

Connor’s hands are immediately on him, his agile fingers efficiently unbuttoning the fish-patterned shirt that Connor got him for his birthday. It might be a little hideous, but it’s been a while since Hank got a birthday gift that he could appreciate without thinking about… bad stuff. Now it’s not the time to think about bad stuff either.

The shirt goes but not Connor’s hands, which are now on Hank’s boobs, squeezing. For some reason, he loves doing this, the funky little thing he is. Hank guesses this part of his aging body is alright, so whatever. Suddenly, Connor drags a tongue over one of his nipples, and god. He really knows how to make Hank insane, and Hank has exactly zero complaints.

While Connor zeroes on leaving his desired hickeys on Hank’s chest, Hank reaches to get Connor out of his shirt too.

Connor pushes and Hank arrives on the bed with a thump. With his usual efficiency, Connor removes his pants, and the sight of his endless, freckled skin never ceases to turn Hank’s blood flow in a southern direction. God, he’s beautiful.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Hank says it out loud while he scrambles to remove his pants too because it’s getting really tight in there.

When Hank looks back at Connor’s pretty face, he sees the hunger in his dark eyes, and it’s still a little weird, but Hank learned that – for some goddamn reason, – Connor likes how he looks. And the look he gives him now (and he gives him that look quite often when they’re alone), makes Hank feel like the most desirable person in the world.

“Like something you see?” Hank teases, and grabs his own dick through his boxers, to give it a few strokes just for the show.

Connor lets out some kind of broken, beautiful sound. “Everything,” he moans before he jumps on Hank, sealing their lips in a heated kiss.

And god, it’s always perfect, the way they fit together. Still kissing, Hank explores Connor’s lithe body with his hands, from his strong shoulders, down his spine, to his – frankly nonexistent – ass. It’s okay; he loves Connor as he is and Hank has enough ass for both of them anyway.

But when Hank is about to reach up to open Connor’s neck port, he pulls away. Hank looks up at him, only to see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You know I could kill you in twelve ways right now.”

Hank feels long fingers ghosting at his throat. And Jesus. It’s so fucking hot, Connor straddling him with a predatory smile on his lips.

He swallows hard. “You think you could, huh?”

“I’m a state-of-the-art model. I’m stronger than you,” Connor says confidently, gazing straight into his eyes.

It’s only for one moment, but Connor’s body goes just a little limper while he zeroes on looking at him, and Hank immediately abuses this for his own gain. He grabs Connor’s waist, and turns Connor under him, pinning his arms above his head.

A frantic laugh escapes Connor, and Hank loves this sound so much.

He loves Connor so much.

“Seems like they spent all the money on the bragging program!”

“No.” Connor wriggles a leg between Hank’s thighs, rubbing the bulge in his boxers, making Hank’s breath hitch. “You’re just too distracting.”

“Or maybe this middle-aged dog has some tricks up his sleeve!”

Connor licks his lips. “Show me then!”

Hank reaches down and tears Connor’s boxers off in a swift motion. Um, there might’ve been something ripping. Despite the insanely cool move, Connor looks at him unimpressed.

“You just tore my boxers.”

Hank shrugs and starts his journey down Connor’s body, placing kisses all over his chest. “Good riddance, they were ugly anyway.”

Connor dutifully removes his synthskin where Hank’s lips touch his body. “They weren’t ugly.”

“Argyle pattern. Instantly ugly.”

Connor lets out a satisfied hum when Hank laves his tongue over the soft circle of his thirium pump regulator.

“Says the man with the hippie shirt.”

“Hey!” Hank looks up affronted, abandoning his ministrations as a punishment. “There’s nothing wrong with that shirt!”

“If the hippie shirt is not ugly then the argyle boxers aren’t ugly either!” Connor says cleverly, then slides a hand into Hank’s hair and grabs, making Hank moan, and pushing him back down. “Continue.”

“Bossy,” Hank mutters under his nose but obeys, because Connor is so hot when he’s like this, and Hank is long gone. He’s rewarded with more glitchy noises produced by Connor when he puts his tongue into action again, licking the stark white chassis.

With a swift motion, he turns Connor sideways and reaches around to open the port at the base of his spine. At this point, he could find any of Connor’s ports without even opening his eyes.

A full-body shiver goes through Connor when Hank starts tugging on the sensitive wires. Hank relishes in Connor’s loud moaning; he loves making Connor feel good and losing control.

“Tell me, baby,” Hank whispers darkly, still touching, pinching the wires. “How do you want me tonight?”

“Mmmmhh.” That’s all Connor says for a good while, pleasure written all over his beautiful face.

“I want to suck your dick, but keep touching my wires,” he manages, then looks down confused. “Why are you still wearing underwear?”

Hank barks out a laugh, but it’s short-lived, because Connor lunges at him, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, while he also tugs down Hank’s boxers eagerly.

When Connor’s agile fingers finally wrap around Hank’s achingly hard dick, it’s heaven. He moans into Connor’s mouth and feels the fucker grin into the kiss. Connor became somewhat of an expert in handling Hank’s dick, which Hank appreciates with various praises or something; he doesn’t really care what garble comes out of his mouth until it makes Connor smile and preen.

“Fuck, Hank,” Connor croaks between two kisses. “I want to suck your dick so bad!”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Hank chuckles, breaking the kiss, and this is a sight he might never get used to, Connor looking at him with lust, just a little disheveled.

Hank grabs Connor by the neck and crashes their lips together once more because he’s a weak man.

When Hank sits up with his back to the headboard (he wants to see Connor, dammit), and Connor gets his pretty lips on his cock, Hank can’t stop himself from moaning out loud. Connor looks up at him with mischief in his eyes, before he swirls his tongue and fuck, Hank really should’ve gotten used to this by now, but he can never get enough.

He reaches down to stroke Connor’s hair, and Connor’s lashes flutter at the touch.

“Look at you, gorgeous. So eager.”

Connor moans around his dick, and doubles his efforts, bobbing his head with increased vigor. Hank slides his hand lower on Connor’s neck to open the connection port and dips a finger inside.

The glitchy sound Connor makes never ceases to make Hank want to wreck him even more. He wants the always cool and composed Connor to lose control; he wants to see him fall apart under Hank’s fingers.

All of a sudden, Connor lets Hank’s dick slide out of his mouth with a wet pop, but before Hank has time to get disappointed, Connor sucks on his own fingers, coating them with his own saliva (looking straight up obscene as he does), then dips his hand to circle around Hank’s hole.

“Shit, baby,” that’s all Hank grunts out, before Connor lunges back on his dick. Hank’s hips involuntarily thrust up to the heat.

When Hank finally gets a hold of himself and realizes he’s still lingering his fingers at Connor’s neck port, he reaches in again, pinching a wire. Connor shudders then looks him in the eye.

“Keep touching me,” Connor says, and Hank obeys because it lines up precisely with what he wanted to do anyway.

One more wire is pinched, and Connor makes another weird sound and dips his fingers inside Hank.

Heat runs through Hank’s body and he lets out a loud moan.

“I want to make you feel good,” Connor says, muffled around Hank’s dick.

“You do, fuck, you really do,” Hank manages between two breaths. “You feel amazing, baby. Holy shit!”

“I love you,” Connor whines, and bends his fingers inside Hank, finding the right spot immediately.

Hank frantically thinks he might combust or straight-up die if Connor continues. He might die if Connor stops too, though.

With his last ditch of effort, Hank tugs firmly on a wire, which sends Connor glitching out. Hank feels Connor’s fingers hit his prostate once again, and fuck!

“I’m going to-“ That’s how far Hank gets, but Connor still has some power to get Hank’s dick out of his mouth before he comes, his orgasm washing over him.

“Fuck,” Hank mumbles, trying to regain control over his body that turned to jelly for a while. Connor lies on his thigh, spinning elated blue, but seemingly in low power mode. A fond smile tugs the corner of Hank’s mouth as he strokes Connor’s hair. He looks so wrecked, his hair rumpled, cum smeared on his pretty face. He looks like a dream, but even better because he’s real. It’s real. Sometimes Hank still has trouble believing it.

Connor lifts his head, smiling at Hank.

Hank smiles back. “Hey, love!”

“I think my sex settings still need some fine-tuning.”

And Hank laughs, because of course the first thing that comes out of Connor’s mouth after earth-shattering sex is something ridiculous. Hank loves him for it.

“C’mere!”

“Wait, let me clean us up,” Connor says, reaching for the towel on the nightstand. “I have semen all over my face!”

“Looks good on you, though,” Hank muses, which makes Connor rolls his eyes.

Hank watches fondly as Connor meticulously swipes them cum-free. He even tosses the towel in the hamper instead of leaving it wherever like Hank usually does.

With this cleaning job well done, Connor finally comes to lie on Hank’s chest, burying his face into his neck. They just hold each other for a while in a warm embrace, whispering secret confessions to each other.

Hank even starts to drift off a little when Connor speaks up.

“Do you know what day it is tomorrow?”

Hank blinks twice then smiles down at him. “Of course. It’s been a year since we met.”

“Yes,” Connor says, smiling back.

Hank’s memories are a little hazy of that day; he was drunk as fuck, he just wanted to wallow in his misery in peace and preferably alone, but then Connor barged into his life, seemingly only to annoy the hell out of him. And to make him horny.

“You spilled my fucking drink.”

Connor smiles innocently. “I just wanted to reduce your alcohol intake! For your health!”

“For my health, sure. Do you want to do something tomorrow?”

“Well,” Connor starts drawing circles on Hank’s chest with his finger, engaging his puppy eyes protocol. “I wouldn’t mind if we went to the aquarium…”

“Of course.” Hank chuckles. “But I thought… what if we went on a vacation? Just travel for a week or something?”

Connor smiles, radiant like the fucking sun. “I would like that very much! But not until-“

“Yes, I know we’re expected at the anniversary thingy.”

“Actually…” Connor bites his lip, and Hank already knows he won’t like what comes out of his mouth next. “We’re not just expected to attend, Markus asked us to make a speech.”

“You mean… he asked you to make a speech?”

“No. He asked us to make a speech. As a couple.”

Well, shit, Hank thinks and lets out a huff. Connor knows Hank doesn’t like the spotlight – Hank also knows Connor doesn’t like it either, – but it’s an important day, and Connor is a lot better at making an effort than he is. He still fails to understand exactly how he would contribute to that so-called speech, though.

“I wasn’t even part of the revolution!” Hank argues as a futile attempt. “Arrived way too late for that.”

Connor shoots him a look. “Take it from me, if you were late then I was also way too late.”

“That’s different,” Hank says. Connor brought a whole army into the equation, without him, the revolution would’ve failed (or at least would’ve been less efficient). And what did Hank exactly do? Nothing of importance. He’s not gonna tell Connor that though, because Connor hates when he’s self-deprecating, and also Connor hates thinking about that night in particular. Hank’s not going to stir his demons right now. He takes a mental note to be prepared for that day to be triggering for Connor. Maybe that’s exactly why he wants Hank to be next to him, and Hank will be there no matter what.

“It really isn’t,” Connor says pointedly. “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I can make the speech by myself. But… I would love to do it with you.”

And fuck, how could Hank exactly say no to that? He would do anything for Connor. A stupid speech shouldn’t be a problem.

He lets out a tired sigh and rubs his face. “Fuck, how can you make it sound romantic?”

Connor nuzzles closer to place a light kiss on Hank’s face. “I love you.”

“Fine! Fine, I’ll think about it,” Hank grunts. “No promises, though.” That’s obviously a lie, and by the glint in Connor’s eyes, Hank already knows he lost this one.

“Thank you, love.”

“Don’t thank me just yet.”

“Mmmm.” Connor dips his hand under the covers, and Hank shivers when he drags his fingers down his belly. “Are you ready for round two?”

“Jesus, Connor, I’m just a middle-aged man, give me some time!”

“You could just touch my wires?”

“You’re fuckin’ insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you,” Connor purrs, and Hank, be damned, is so deep in love. “Only when it comes to you.”