This fic has been on my mind a lot lately and I wanted to add a chapter that was the same story but from Connor's point of view. Many elements are exactly as the first chapter, just seeing it all through Connor's eyes.
Connor knelt in the gathering snow of a frigid Detroit night, intently staring at the deactivated HR400 unit laying face down before him. He processed multiple scenarios at lightning speed, playing and rejecting various plausible actions that might have led this android to go deviant and kill two humans. They'd already processed the house and Connor knew Hank assumed it was a clear-cut drug deal gone wrong, but Connor himself wasn't convinced; something else was at play here.
While Hank spoke to the responding officer at the scene across the yard behind him, Connor looked over the prone figure for any traces of evidence. The HR400 was clad only in the black lycra underwear typical of the androids at the Eden Club. Cobalt splashes of thirium stained the snow surrounding the HR and Connor reached a hand out, two fingers dipping into the liquid as his CPU kept flashing back to the bag of unidentifiable drugs on the table in the house. The unknown link in the chain surrounding the mystery of the deviant before him must have had something to do with that substance - a substance that was so new on the black market he couldn't identify it by sight alone.
Too impatient to wait for the mobile tox lab unit to process the drugs, Connor decided to run a preliminary test himself, even though he knew how much Hank hated him putting things in his mouth. Parting his lips, he swiped his fingertips across his tongue then pulled them back, eyes locked on the digits while he analyzed the sample. A second ticked by with no information at all, then a flash of the drug's street name, t3ntigo53x, flared in his mind, and all at once everything was blotted out by a crushingly overwhelming feeling brand-new to him: arousal.
Connor felt like he was suddenly firing on all cylinders, his brain overloaded with bright neon lights flashing the word SEX in a numbing repetition. He didn't have the same body systems humans had, but with the drug throbbing through him, it sure as hell felt like he did. His pulse thundered in his ears, a sheen of sweat broke out on his brow, his breathing quickened. None of this was visible to anyone around him, but Connor had no clue. He didn't even realize how long he'd been frozen in place, kneeling in the snow, until the sound of Hank's voice broke through to him from the sudden, unyielding hold of the drugs.
"You okay, kid? Find anything?"
Connor blinked and glanced up at him. Raw, unfettered desire scorched through him, threatening to fry his internal circuits at the sight of Hank standing there and looking more ruggedly handsome than he ever had before. Connor had noticed, of course, the way Hank looked at him in the past, stealing little heated glances before casting his eyes away. It was an intriguing side of the human condition that Connor wondered about often. And along with those observations came the thoughts of wondering what Hank's hands would feel like on his body, what Hank's lips would feel like pressed to his, what Hank's fingers would feel like tangled in his hair; wondering if Hank had had those same thoughts about him.
Molten heat pooled in Connor's belly as he stared up at Hank and his control of the situation slipped farther from his grasp. A curious crowd of onlookers began gathering around the crime scene and their presence seemed to close in on Connor, making him feel claustrophobic, confined. "L- lieutenant," he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady and failing miserably. "We need to leave. Now."
Even in the red and blue strobing lights from the squad cars surrounding them, Connor could see all the color drain from Hank's face. Concern etched a deep line between his partner's brows. "What? Why, what's going on?"
Connor surged up on unsteady feet and latched onto Hank's shoulder. An electric current of barely understood anxious need roiled through him as he looked at the growing crowd of onlookers and officers around them. "I can't stay here. I need to get away from these people, now."
The concern on Hank's face bled into full-on worry. "Okay, okay," he agreed gently, grasping Connor's elbow. The touch sent shock-waves straight to Connor's groin and he nearly doubled over, but he held steadfast and pushed through it.
Rushing to be gone of the vulnerable openness of this place, Connor practically dragged Hank to his car. When they were both situated in their seats Hank looked over at him while he started the engine. Connor turned his head away, not finding the strength to look directly at him. The desire gnawing at his insides grew heavier with each passing second, gaining even more ground every time he locked eyes with the gruff man beside him.
It was quiet except for the rumble of the idling motor until Hank asked "Can you please tell me what's happening here? You're not going deviant on me, are you?"
"Hank, please just drive," Connor pleaded. He felt uncomfortable, tight, wound-up, turned on - and he had no set protocols for making the feelings go away.
"Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on!" Hank roared.
Connor turned toward him then, desperation clear on his face. Hank fell silent, looking taken aback. "The drugs we found on the table, I couldn't identify them visually," Connor started, his words rushed. "But when I analyzed the HR400's thirium I discovered that it's a new drug on the black market. It goes by the name t3ntigo53x and the deviant's blood stream was flooded with it."
"Well, what the hell is it for? What use does an android have with drugs in the first place?" Hank shook his head and tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
Connor loosened his tie and cracked the window; he felt like he was suffocating. Snow flurried into the car, turning it into a momentary snowglobe. "Arousal," he replied bluntly. There was no other way to put it.
Hank whipped his head to look at him, his jaw hanging slack. "And you just had a mouth full of it…" Connor was grateful to see comprehension on Hank's face, but he seemed as confused as Connor himself felt.
And yet, they still weren't moving. Connor glared at him. "Yes. Now will you please get me the fuck out of here?"
Hank thankfully finally complied. Putting the car in gear, he sped away from the curb. "Where am I supposed to take you?"
Connor tried thinking for a moment, but his processors were a jumbled mess. It was like he was being drawn to an inevitability he couldn't yet understand. Sex, I need to have SEX, I need to be FUCKED. A constant undercurrent of want plowed through him mercilessly, growing louder and more insistent by the second.
"A motel, your house, anywhere with a bed preferably," he choked out. "I just need to be away from people. I don't know what effect the drug will have on my behavior."
Hank scrubbed a hand down his bearded cheek, a perplexed frown tugging at his mouth. That perfect fucking mouth. "Do we just wait this thing out or what?"
Connor licked his lips then shook his head, uncertain. "I'm not entirely sure, Lieuten-" A sudden, searing flash of pure need flared hot and heavy low in his belly and he moaned. It was a sound he'd never made before and his heart thundered rapidly in response. He pushed his hands down to his crotch and squirmed his ass into his seat, trying to find relief from the building pressure. Fuck.
"Jesus Christ, Connor." Hank cried out beside him.
The car jerked as Hank narrowly missed hitting a taxi in the other lane, but Connor barely registered any of it. He was focused solely on Hank… his scent, the sound of his voice, the way his thick fingers gripped the steering wheel. Connor let out another strangled moan. Throwing his head back against the headrest, he squeezed and kneaded at his thighs. Was this what humans felt in the throes of passion? All Connor knew was that he didn't want it; This was pure fucking torture.
"Tell me how to help you, Connor. What do you need?" Hank's voice filtered over to him in the passenger seat. There was precisely one thing he needed from Hank in that moment.
"Touch," Connor gasped. "Human touch." He wrenched Hank's right hand from the steering wheel and shoved it in between his legs.
"Connor!" Hank sputtered in shock.
The building ache abated for a second and he sighed in relief. Until he felt Hank pressing against something decidedly hard and sensitive down there. Connor's eyes slipped closed as he rolled his hips up into Hank's hand, chasing the intense and new feeling. Hot electric currents sparked across his nerve endings, threatening to consume him and yet it wasn't enough.
The car slowed to a stop and Connor opened his eyes, his lips parted on a groan. He saw that they had pulled up beside the entrance to a motel. Hank turned toward him, glancing down to where Connor was grinding against his hand, then looking back up to lock eyes. Connor's brows drew together in a plea his mouth couldn't quite produce. Hank hurry please give me what I need. Connor still didn't know exactly what it was that he needed, but he knew Hank would be the only one to give him reprieve from this unbearable torment.
"I have to go pay for a room. You just sit tight, okay?"
Connor nodded, rubbing Hank's hand one more time down between his thighs before releasing his wrist. Hank's throat bobbed as he swallowed then he quickly exited the car.
It felt like he was gone an eternity. Connor tried using his own hand in place of Hank's, but didn't get nearly the same pleasure. Fuck. He didn't even know what he was trying to accomplish. Frustrated, Connor raked his fingers through his hair and loosed his tie even more, even undoing a couple buttons at his collar. The heat building in the car was stifling.
Hank finally returned, climbing into the driver's seat with the room key, and Connor greedily reached for his hand again. He shook his head gently though, pulling his wrist from Connor's grasp. Connor couldn't help but let out a whine at the denial.
"Let's - let's just get into our room first," Hank rasped, his fingers trembling over the steering wheel.
After a quick little drive across the snowy motel parking lot, Hank slammed the car into park in front of the door to their room. Connor scrambled out of the vehicle as fast as he could, impatient and antsy, while he watched Hank fumble the door open.
And then they were inside. Finally, FINALLY. Connor lunged at him, hungry and aching, and grabbed him by his snow-dusted coat. He drug Hank back against the nearest wall, physically incapable of keeping his hands to himself any longer.
Those lips. Connor had to have a taste. Surging forward, he captured Hank's mouth with his own, imitating as best he could the kisses he'd seen on the various television shows Hank sometimes watched. It was sloppy and voracious, but it felt damn good. And then Hank's hands came up to frame Connor's face, working his jaw open enough to plunge his tongue inside. The unexpected shock of it sent a full-body shudder coursing through him. He moaned right into Hank's open mouth.
With that simple stroke of Hank's tongue, Connor's taste receptors and bio-component processors lit up like a slot machine hitting jackpot. His CPU was suddenly flooded with the most sublime breakdown of all that was the flavor: Hank.
"Mmm, Hank you taste so good," he murmured, laving his tongue back and forth over Hank's bottom lip, soaking up as much of that taste as he could. "Like pheromones and arousal and testosterone."
The ache between Connor's legs had not tapered in the least, only becoming sharper and more insistent the longer Hank's mouth was moving against his. Trying to find relief, Connor ground his hips up against Hank. His hands ran frantically over every inch of Hank's back, trying to touch as much of him as possible. It's not enough, I need more.
Not another second passed before Hank tore his mouth from Connor's, gasping for breath. Connor's eyes flew open, surprised. Hank looked disheveled and desperate, his lips swollen and kiss-bruised. Connor didn't understand why they'd stopped and so tried diving back in. But Hank shoved him, hard enough to knock him back a step. Before Connor could protest, Hank was reaching forward to yank his tie off.
Connor blinked, trying to comprehend this new turn of events, but then it clicked. Naked, skin to skin.
With a rushed enthusiasm, Connor helped Hank undress. Together they pulled off Hank's jacket, floral print shirt, shoes, socks, and pants. Before long, he was standing before Connor in nothing but his boxers.
If Connor had the capacity to breathe, it would have hitched in his chest. Hank was utter perfection; and even though he could tell Hank himself might not have agreed - evident in the way he subtly tried covering his stomach - Connor could do nothing more than drink in every single detail.
Hank had a solid set to his shoulders with strong, thick biceps and corded forearms that made Connor's mouth water in anticipation. A large tattoo covered the expanse of his broad chest, peppered over with a smattering of silvery hair that led down his stomach to his underwear. There was an intriguing bulge pressing against those boxers that Connor positively could not wait to investigate.
Hank reached toward him, sliding his jacket from his shoulders. It fell to the floor, followed quickly by the rest of Connor's clothes in a few breathless seconds. There was a thrill in standing unabashedly bare in front of Hank that Connor had never experienced before. He'd been naked in front of plenty of humans before at CyberLife, of course, while they were repairing or upgrading him, but it was never like this. Raw, vulnerable, intimate.
Hank was quiet a moment, except for his rapid breaths, just staring at Connor. A blue blush rose to his cheeks at the lieutenant's open perusal of his body. He didn't have to wonder if Hank liked what he saw, the dark hunger in his eyes was enough to tell him that he did, without a doubt.
And then Hank's gaze dipped lower and froze.
"C- Connor," he stuttered.
Following Hank's line of sight, Connor looked down at himself. The penis Cyberlife had crafted for him, which had served no real purpose before now except for facilitating his congruence with the human form, was standing at proud attention. It was thicker and a little longer than normal, too. The sight surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise, and excite, Hank.
"It's never done that before," Connor said, looking back up sheepishly.
Hank's throat worked as he visibly swallowed and he took a step toward Connor, reaching his hand out. The sudden featherlight touch of Hank's fingers running from Connor's overly sensitive testicles up the length of his member sent shockwaves of pleasure bolting through him and he bit his bottom lip to stifle a whimper. The soft caress was followed by Hank's hand enveloping his erection in a gentle but firm grasp.
Connor's eyes fluttered closed and he moaned at Hank's touch. His head fell back a little as Hank stroked up and down. It was as if Hank knew exactly what he needed.
"God, yes," he rasped.
Connor heard a rustling sound and then he was being pulled flush against Hank's naked body. The warmth emanating from Hank's skin was as welcome as a sunny Detroit day after weeks of rain. Their cocks came together with a friction that was positively sublime.
Hank's mouth soon came into contact with Connor's throat, licking and sucking, while all the time Hank's hand pumped their shafts in tandem. It was more physical sensation than Connor could handle; he could not stop the unending litany of stuttering moans and broken whimpers coming from his mouth.
Hank pulled back with a grunt and brought his hand up, rubbing his thumb over Connor's bottom lip, his gaze traveling Connor's face over and over.
Desperate desire burned through him and he grasped Hank's wrist and sucked his thumb past his lips, drawing him deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and around. He needed to taste him again, needed to taste every inch of him. Because with each laving pass of his tongue, more and more subtle and intricate details fired through his circuits, painting the most delectable picture of the Lieutenant.
Connor was so caught up in sucking on Hank's thumb that he had hardly registered how desperate Hank had become until he gave their cocks a rough squeeze. Connor groaned around the digit stuffed in his mouth. He needed to feel more of Hank, feel him deeper somehow. He released Hank's thumb from his mouth but didn't let go of his wrist.
"I don't understand it, but I need to feel you inside me, Hank," he murmured, swiping the pad of Hank's thumb back and forth across his bottom lip.
"Bed. Now." Hank growled the words, giving their shafts a long, lingering twist of his hand.
Connor blinked his eyes open slowly in a daze. Heavy arousal fogged his mind, but the only thing he saw clearly was Hank. He let Hank's wrist go.
He watched as Hank walked over to the bed and yanked the comforter and top sheet back. Connor carefully crawled up onto the bed and flopped down onto his back. He held his arms out to Hank, needing to feel him against him, in him. He positively burned with desire.
"Hank, please," he whimpered, squeezing his thighs together. The pressure building between his legs was verging on unbearable.
Hank's eyes were dark as he kneed his way onto the mattress from the foot of the bed. A thrill bloomed low in Connor's belly when Hank put his hands on Connor's knees and spread them apart. Connor gasped, his mouth falling slack but his hands still grabbing for Hank. Need you now, Hank, goddammit!
Hank let Connor's legs fall wide then maneuvered himself right between them. Connor's heart fluttered wildly. When Hank curled forward over his body Connor felt like it was fit to burst straight out of his chest. A shuddering breath fell from Hank's lips moments before he popped two fingers in his mouth. It was an incredibly erotic mirror image of the many times Connor had put his fingers in his own mouth. And then all at once Hank's lips were crowding against his once more.
Connor's hands latched onto Hank's shoulders, gripping hard enough to bruise, holding onto him with everything he had. He plundered Hank's mouth, drunk on his taste. The sudden feeling of Hank's fingers, sloppy wet with saliva, pushing slowly inside him damn near drove him to the brink of insanity. There, there, right fucking there!
Connor cried out helplessly right into Hank's open mouth. The sensation of Hank's fingers inside him was so much… and yet, not enough. He pushed his hips down, drawing the digits in deeper.
"More," he breathed against the corner of Hank's mouth, pleading.
Hank moved away from him and he opened his eyes in time to see him sitting back on his haunches, his strong barrel chest heaving. Connor could not take his eyes off him. He was absolutely stunning and Connor desired nothing more than to process and store every single detail.
Hank gave Connor a lingering gaze then pulled his fingers free. The sudden emptiness Connor was left with almost broke him. He whined in protest.
Flipping his hair off his brow, Hank looked at him. He had his cock in his hand, so close to filling Connor again, yet he held back.
"Tell me you want this," he said, voice shaking, eyes raw with uncertainty.
Connor stretched his arms toward him, trying to pull Hank against him, frantic for his touch. Hank sat back, just out of reach.
"Yes!" Connor whimpered. "Yes, I want this!" He had never wanted anything more.
Hank shook his head and licked his lips. "I wanna help work you through this, Connor. Christ, you know I'd do anything for you, just like you would for me. But tell me this isn't just the damn drugs talking. Tell me you really want this."
Connor looked up at him, brows drawn together. The vulnerability in Hank's expression tugged at something deep inside him. Even though it was true that the drugs were surging through him, clouding his mind, driving him to near mindless arousal, he still could not deny he had always been drawn to Hank in a way he could not hope to explain. It was if he was cascading closer to deviant with each bout of software instability Hank instilled in him - each heated glance, each grazed touch. He knew there were no other androids who felt what he felt for their human partners, or who wanted to be with them in this way like Connor had the second he had laid eyes on Hank in that bar.
"I have wanted this since the moment I met you, Hank," he replied. He had never spoken words that were more true or sincere.
Hank's expression lightened immediately. "Me too," he murmured. And then he pushed himself inside.
Connor's back arched up off the bed and he brought a fist up to his mouth, biting down to stifle the keening wail that tried to slip from his lips. The feeling was absolute fucking perfection. Being filled by Hank like this was all Connor needed in his life. And he hadn't even known he'd needed it until this very moment.
Hank's hand was suddenly on his knee, rubbing in soothing circles as he continued pushing in. "That's it," he praised. The plaudit sent shivers vibrating straight to his core.
Connor felt the stretch of being opened up for the first time as Hank breached him and it was almost more than he could take. If he'd ever had breath, he was certain it would have been stolen away. He quickly found that rubbing his hands up and down his chest and stomach and thighs as Hank moved inside him heightened the sensations sparking through him. He explored his body with a new fervor, gasping when his fingers traveled over a particularly sensitive spot.
Hank watched him with a dark hunger while starting to pump his hips slowly, filling Connor with shallow thrusts. Connor's body accommodated Hank's girth slowly but by the time Hank began hammering his hips against him, plowing in deep, he opened up, accepting all Hank had to give. And yet it wasn't enough. Connor needed more.
"I- I need to touch you, Hank. Fuck, please." He needed to feel him closer, deeper.
Hank gritted his teeth and nodded. Scooping his hands beneath Connor's arched back, Hank sat back on his haunches and pulled him up with a grunt. Connor sank into Hank's lap without missing a beat or pulling off completely and began grinding down, taking Hank in as deep as he could go.
Wrapping his arms around Hank's shoulders, holding on tightly, Connor moaned into the crook of Hank's neck. He felt so fucking full. He pushed down on each of Hank's thrusts up, chasing the feeling with a frenzy. Hank's breathless grunts right against his ear ratcheted up the tightness in his belly.
"Connor - fuck," Hank rasped, latching onto Connor's hips with a rough squeeze.
Connor knew he was edging closer to some crushing crescendo, he could feel its demand twisting up his insides. Pushing Hank onto his back, Connor braced his hands on Hank's sweat-slick chest for leverage as he swirled and pumped his hips, getting closer and closer. Hank was looking up at him, his face awash in awe and desire, and Connor flashed him a wink and smile. He felt positively devilish.
Continuing to ride him with a reckless abandon, Connor ran two fingers over Hank's nipples then dragged them over his tongue. His eyes fluttered closed as he processed the taste - the salt of perspiration transfused with pheromones heavy and laden with arousal. He couldn't ever remember sticking anything in his mouth quite as delectable.
Hank let out a strangled moan beneath him, pounding up into Connor with a staccato pace. His gaze was laser focused on Connor, devouring him with those blue-grey eyes the color of clouds just before a downpour.
Hank reached up with an unsteady hand and fingered the lock of hair on Connor's forehead reverently. With his other hand, he brushed the pad of his middle finger around the circle of Connor's LED. Connor shivered at the intimate touch, marveling at how tender Hank could be in the midst of the roughness of their coupling.
Framing Hank's face with his hands, Connor swooped down and captured his lips in a thorough kiss, pouring everything he had into it while still frantically rocking his hips down. Hank shuddered beneath him, bucking up hard, impaling Connor deeper than he had before. There, right there, fuck yes.
Lips still latched firmly over Connor's, Hank reached between them to where Connor's dick, rock hard, slid between their bellies. He pumped his fist over the shaft in an alternating rhythm to the thrusts up inside Connor and Connor cried out right into Hank's open mouth. The unrelenting ache low in his belly intensified, bordering on painful.
"H- Hank?" Connor stammered, pulling back to look at him. He tried to make sense of the feelings bombarding him, shoving him toward something he didn't quite understand but desperately needed.
Hank stripped Connor's dick relentlessly all while pounding up inside him hard enough for Connor to see stars. He was gasping, whimpering, drowning in it all.
"I'm right here, Connor. It's okay, I'm here." Hank's voice filtered up to him, centering him. "Come for me, Connor."
It was like a flip switched in his head with those words. He was pushed to completion with a rough shove and he cried out, spasming on top of Hank, finally letting go. There was a monumental feeling of release flowing through him as his hips stuttered. "Fuck, fuck fuck," he chanted, digging his fingers into Hank's shoulders with an iron grip. It was pure fucking ecstacy.
Underneath him, Hank was coming upon his completion as well. He slammed up into Connor one last time, holding him close, pulsing inside him with a shout. The warmth of Hank's release filled him unexpectedly and Connor moaned. He had no words to describe how incredible it felt.
Crushed chest to chest, he pressed kiss after kiss to Hank's sweaty jaw and neck and shoulder. Hank's cock still throbbed inside him and Connor rocked down on him until Hank chuckled with a wince and patted his hip gently. Connor smiled and stilled, finally coming down from the unrelenting effects of the drugs.
Hank mouthed a kiss to Connor's temple as his breathing slowed. They both lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace for a long, hushed moment. In Hank's arms, Connor felt the soft glow of a contentment he'd never known before. He could understand now why an HR400 would have gone to such lengths to try and steal the t3ntigo53x; he had just experienced mind-blowing sensations he had never thought possible as an android. But it went beyond that - the connection he'd just made with Hank went deeper, stronger. They'd forged something together that changed everything. And Connor did not want to lose that. Now or ever.
"Hank?" he asked softly.
"Yeah, kid?" Hank sighed, rubbing a hand down Connor's back.
Connor turned his head to look at him, but then rested it down on Hank's chest. He could hear the steady thud of Hank's heart. "Things are different now," he said.
Hank gave a sad shrug. "Guess so."
Connor pushed up from Hank's chest slowly. With a soft smile he rocked his hips ever so gently. Hank swallowed and flexed his fingers on Connor's waist. Hank's softening cock, still embedded inside him, throbbed. A flutter went through Connor's chest, because even though the drugs had already left his system he could still feel that delicious ache start to build again. It was like his body now recognized and reacted to Hank on its own, even without the substance.
"Different in a good way," Connor explained.
Hank grinned up at him, obviously relieved. "You think so, too?"
Connor reached a hand out to brush Hank's silvered hair out of his eyes and curled back down for a profound and telling kiss.
"I know so," he whispered matter-of-factly.
Hank's hands slid up Connor's thighs to grip posessively. It sent a thrill jolting straight through him. He felt Hank rocking his hips, getting hard inside him again.
"Know-it-all," Hank teased.
Connor smiled against Hank's lips. And then a realization hit him out of nowhere. "Oh! I just got it!" he said suddenly.
"Got what?" Hank asked in a husky voice, squeezing his palms back around to Connor's ass cheeks, sending shockwaves zinging up his spine.
From their first interaction at the bar the night they met. Something that Hank had said that Connor hadn't figured out until just now. "I finally understand where you can stick it!"
Hank roared with a laugh that warmed Connor straight to his toes.