( it's not exactly 'jump my bones now, connor!' but it's about as close as he's going to get with hank. connor takes it as permission to move closer to the man, pressing his chest flat against hank's back. his hands slide around to rest low on hank's stomach, still very chaste, it's all PG-13 at most still but he doesn't want to rush hank. if this goes wrong, their whole relationship could tailspin. horny or not, there's no way connor will risk that.
he does very gently grind his hips forward slightly though, a tiny little roll that only just makes enough contact for hank to even know he had moved at all. it's a little bit teasing, maybe. he lifts his head to hank's neck and presses his lips there instead, humming softly under his breath. ) Something like that...
( yeah, definitely a little bit teasing. "little bit". his mouth skims up a little further, enough that he has to stretch a little, raise up onto the balls of his feet to reach, and he presses a very soft, very chaste kiss just behind hank's ear. grinds his hips just a tiny bit harder. )
I don't know how well my model processes sensations, and I– well I thought you might help me find out.
[ this is a bad idea. everything about this is a shitty, fucking, don't-even-go-there bad idea, but hank is nothing if not a cynical, bitter collection of bad ideas gone halfway to seed and struggling to find its way back again, probably, and so he doesn't extricate himself from connor.
he senses it, the purity in connor's explorations, the curiosity alight in every movement, the fact that he's actually horny, those warm, soft lips against his neck. it sets his pulse racing the way it hadn't in far too many years, and hank remembers the porn he'd watched from time to time. he remembers something like this, and wonders if connor's watched it too, imagining himself in a scenario like this.
pressing back against him, he turns his head just a little to catch those lips, his dick stirring shamefully in his trousers. ]
Do you even have...
[ you know, the working bits, the sex bits, because connor sure as hell as a libido and fuck those guys at cyberlife (except maybe not really because everything about this is weird and freaky in all the best, dick-stirring ways). also, apparently, they're way overdue for the sex talk. ]
( he doesn't actually answer the question. he drags his hands back to hank's hips, finding purchase there and gripping a fraction tighter than he needs to. there won't be bruises left by his fingers, but there might be marks pressed temporarily into his skin. connor wants to see that.
he pulls hank's hips back into his own, grinding forward with more purpose this time, and – the main point of this – he presses the hard line of his dick against hank's ass. his hips roll forward slowly, and he lets out a soft huff of air against hank's cheek.
( it's entirely unnecessary, of course, but it's easier to emulate human responses in moments like this. he doesn't want to waste additional processors coming up with something for himself, after all. )
one of his hand slips up hank's shirt, and he's still pressed up completely against hank's back but now that he's slowly grinding it's a little harder to keep his focus. his hand frequently stops as his breath hitches, but he'll explore as much as hank will allow him. )
I'm fully equipped, if that's what you want to know. ( the words come out as a mumble, and he has to strain and stretch on his toes to get to him with the awkward angle but connor manages to get his chin over hank's shoulder and reaches to meet his lips with the older man's. it's not easy, but connor does it. ) Will you help, then?
( the question obviously punctuated with a shallow thrust of his hips into hank's ass. )
hank can feel it even if connor doesn't say a thing, the interesting press of his hips against his, the unfamiliar press of that bulge -- and not for the first time he wonders at just how lifelike androids are, how they so effortlessly simulate humanity and yet...
yet. he can feel that hand sliding up his skin, the heat in every movement, the intent written in every touch. hank shifts now, responding; he'd be lying if he said that he doesn't want this, if he hasn't thought of it. connor has been pretty much the star of just about every wet dream he's had now, his face replacing some nameless pretty boy from time to time, and he shifts to make it easier for him, turning around to grasp connor's chin.
he's tilting his face up now, leaning down to kiss him. this is unlike the kisses they've previously shared; this is definitely unchaste, hungry, a result of holding himself back for too long for a myriad reasons. ]
Yeah, yeah. Then you won't call me in the morning.
[ he tells him dryly in between kisses -- there's no putting this off now, is there? still, he tries. ] ...are you sure about this?
( he holds his gaze for a moment, quiet and very intense as he looks up at hank. he's so genuine that it's almost painful, checking his thirst at the door for a moment so that he can look earnestly at the man. he removes the remaining hand from hank's hip, using it to cup his cheek instead. )
I'm very sure, Hank. I'll let you know the moment I'm not.
( he leans up then, closing the gap between them to steal another kiss. he waits a moment, keeping it gentle and sweet for a moment or two before he dares to push it a little. he slides his fingers into hank's hair gripping gently, and pushes his other hand back up hank's shirt. he finds a nipple and grazes his fingers around it gently.
and the kiss? the kiss quickly dials up. it's hungry, a little desperate, he's barely willing to stop long enough for hank to take a few breaths before he's diving in again, and it's all pressing chests together and tugging hair and lips and tongue and teeth. he wants, he wants, he wants.
his hand drops from hank's chest briefly, and he grabs the hem of the shirt instead. )
I think you don't know what you're getting yourself into.
[ hank says gruffly, looking at him dead in the eye. there are so many better options out there and they both know it, and yet here connor is, shacking up with him, wanting sex as if there isn't some error in his system somewhere and how hank wants him anyway, mutual desire scorching his veins and he's the most sober he's ever been.
he regrets it, the sobriety, but can't bring himself to feel too deeply about that. he's kissing him right back, fierce and searching, a hand coming to cup the back of his head to hold him in place, as if connor can't merely break him over his knee in an instant.
he's licking into his mouth, greedy, filthy, his own desire rousing from embers as he lets go of him for only a few moments, carelessly tugging his shirt up and off, tossing it carelessly aside. ]
Now you. [ he says before he can take it back. fuck this, he's just going to lean into it, see where it goes -- connor's touch is too warm, too purposeful and too intoxicating, and hank has missed sex. this, too, is just about all connor's fault. ] Everything off.
Androids fought hard for autonomy, Lieutenant. ( the title is deliberate, of course. everything connor does is deliberate, and he wants to see if it garners any reaction from hank. ) If I want to 'get myself into anything', I think I'm allowed to make that choice.
( and then they're kissing again. he doesn't need to breathe, but he ends up a little breathless after the kiss all the same. he tends to default towards engaging his respiratory response around hank, ever since the man told him it was like sitting next to a corpse when they watched a movie together one night he's made a point to keep the function engaged. now it leaves him with a tight, fuzzy feeling in his chest as he runs through a laboured breathing response – all simulated, of course, but that doesn't make it feel any less real.
when hank's shirt comes off his hands quickly come up to press against his chest. connor touches along his skin carefully, reverently as he drags his fingers across old scars, little reminders of how very human hank is. he stops at his nipples, circling one with a finger before rolling the nub between his finger and thumb. his head ducks to the other, quickly before hank can protest, and he flicks his tongue against it before pressing a gentle little kiss over the top.
and then he pulls back entirely. there's too much space between them now and connor's system practically screams at the loss of contact, but he has a task to complete. he quickly undoes his tie, leaving the material hanging loose around his neck, and then slips off the jacket. it's no longer the cyberlife branded one, now he wears a plain black one in a similar style. his shirt is unbuttoned just as quickly, and he folds both items before putting them on the counter beside hank's bagged bottle.
his fingers hover over his belt, and he watches hank's reactions closely as he unbuckles and then removes it. next go the pants, as quickly and efficiently as the rest of his clothes. he toes off his shoes, pants folded and placed with the rest of the clothes. he stops there, still in a small pair of plain black boxer briefs with the tie hanging loose around his neck. his socks are on, held up by garters on each leg. it's not everything, he hasn't completed this objective yet, but he stops and looks at hank anyway. )
[ and there it is, the reaction -- a soft huff of annoyance and exasperation, not nearly enough to cancel out the lust. connor can be endearing and insufferable in equal turns, but hank is getting used to it. prefers it, even. it's at least different from before, and his gaze darkens when he finds connor kissed breathless; even if it's a simulation, in moments like these hank almost believes his human.
that damn sass is more than halfway believable, anyway.
but he's watching. he's watching when connor neatly divests himself of his clothing, proper and neat and just once, he thinks, he wants to knock all that prim programming out of him, send him into a tizzy, overwhelm him with emotion, sensation, and when his gaze meets his next hank is hungry. he can see it, the lifelike ripple of his skin, the muscles underneath, every movement exquisite and smooth and yet not so polished as they are to betray connor's nature.
no, connor's different despite the pointed reminder, and he shakes his head. ]
No, keep those on.
[ he tells him simply, coming over to slide large, calloused hands down those lean hips, pushing those plain boxer briefs off only to free his cock, watching it spring free, practically. honestly, he doesn't know what he had been expecting, but it sure isn't this. it's very well...made, hairless, perfect, and gods his balls, too. he's staring, for a moment not quite knowing what to say, those briefs half-off, good and proper. ]
( connor doesn't move when hank removes his pants – really doesn't move, body perfectly still save for the slight bounce of his cock as hank frees it from the material of his briefs. he's quiet too, for once, just watching the man's reactions carefully. he's taking everything in, the way hank's eyes linger, the way his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, the way a muscle in his neck twitches slightly.
he watches it all. and he wants more. )
Not exactly an eloquent reaction.
( connor quips, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. when he finally moves, it's just to tuck his fingers into the waistband of hank's pants. connor is practically naked now, only a few articles of clothing left hanging, and all hank has removed is a shirt. it seems a little unfair.
he drops one hand, pressing firmly against hank's crotch through the material of his trousers. and then he rubs slowly, feeling the reaction of hank's cock stirring underneath his palm. he presses a little firmer, pace still slow and languid but with a slowly increasing pressure. )
[ hank counters, his response without bite when he notices the note of amusement in his voice, realising the way connor sees to explore. he's reaching out to cup his cock in his hand, surprised at the shape and weight of it, how warm it is, how it almost feels like it's throbbing. at this moment, connor has never been more human, and he's about to say something to that effect when the android takes it upon himself to grope him, feeling him up.
gods, but he's already thickening in his pants, his dick practically tenting the loose material, and he groans, moving to push connor up against the wall, a hand beside his head. he's still stroking connor's dick, thumbing over the underside, pressing up against the vein. can connor feel this? does he like it? does he feel like he's going to snap at any moment, the way hank feels now, with that hand feeling him up?
there are so many, many things hank wants to do to him, each one more depraved than the last, but oh, it's his own long-dormant sense of self-control that keeps him behaving, keeps him from ramping it up too quickly. ]
( that's shot back almost immediately, all contrary snark, but he loses his composure the moment hank's hand wraps around his dick. he knew that the sensors installed in the phallus component were designed to be reactive, knew that patch updates had given androids the ability to receive the stimuli as pleasurable now, but actually experiencing it is very different.
connor doesn't so much as whisper a protest when hank moves him back to the wall. instead he just bucks his hips into hank's hand, hips stuttering a little as he brings his hands back to the waistband, searching for the button. it's a little hard to think clearly, honestly, but he doesn't want to admit that just yet. )
Don't stop.
( he murmurs the words, tilting his head back against the wall as he fumbles to get hank's pants undone – and then finally the button slips out and he can get the fly undone, he can shove the pants down to mid-thigh and start palming hank through his underwear instead. he moves his hand to the rhythm that hank sets, hips jerking in time with the press of hank's thumb. he can definitely feel it, that is abundantly obvious. it's even clumsier when connor grows impatient with the underwear and pushes them down too. they don't make it as far as hank's pants, shoved down just enough for connor's hand to slip in and grasp his cock fully.
it's...big. he notes that almost immediately, though he really can't focus enough to run an analysis of the measurements. it's a later problem, one they'll figure out when they get there. for now connor just wraps his hand around hank's cock and drags it up slowly, still pushing his hips up into hank's hand with a little desperation. )
[ damn straight it's big. hank doesn't pay as much attention to it as he's doing to connor's, fascinated despite himself. it feels all too real, organic and reactive, and even more telling is how connor doesn't tell him to stop, the pleasure written all over that sinfully handsome face sending his heart racing in anticipation, falling all over itself in all manner of inappropriate thoughts.
then again, everything about this is inappropriate, which is when he switches to fondling his balls, heavy, perfectly-shaped, and god they really do make 'em so much like human that it's so easy to lose himself in connor's pleasure, hooked on every little reactive sound. he grunts when connor continues to feel him up, shoving down his pants to get at his dick properly and hank, oh, he fucking likes this, he loves how his dick feels in that hand, and he thrusts back against him, slick and insistent.
it takes a few moments before he gently bats him away, palming both their cocks and lining them up together, his mouth hungrily searching his out to kiss, and kiss, and kiss -- he's intoxicated by this, by how much connor wants, and when he breaks the kiss he jerks his hips against him, eyes dark with lust. ]
You got a...
[ yeah, his other hand is coming around back, feeling up that tight, tight ass and oh, fuck. they really fucking made a hole right back there, complete with tight, puckered little rim, and he's thumbing at it, breath caught in his throat. ] god, they made you good for fucking, didn't they?
( connor is, in a word, overwhelmed. unhelpful and unrequested messages about the chemical composition of the wall behind his back and the structural integrity of the house and the sweat gathering at hank's brow and the exact number of sensors being stimulated right now all pop up faster than they can be dismissed, flooding his vision with information about almost everything he's on contact with and anything he can hear and see. he has the exact notes that hank hits when he groans, six different intonations that he is able to isolate from the sound. he can't switch this off, but eventually connor manages to reduce the size to a flood in his peripherals.
he wants to see hank for this, and the notifications were doing a damn good job of preventing that. there's unlikely to be anything of value there anyway.
there's less direct stimulation when hank replaces his hand with his cock, enough that connor finally can get a handle of his rapidly firing systems. but then he grinds his hips and the momentary window for clear thought is gone. he's rolling his hips forward, sliding his cock against hank's with a tight friction that feels amazing. connor is decently well-endowned, a little above average but not so much as to make humans feel inadequate – but next to hank's dick he looks small. it's not an unpleasant thought at all.
connor is already preparing his snarky response, mouth open to speak back, but when a thumb pushes against his asshole it's a soft moan that escapes instead. that's new. he huffs slightly, head tipping back against the wall as he tries to decide between grinding up into hank's cock or back into the thumb at his ass. in the end he just wiggles his hips a little, eyeing hank with a look that just reads pure lust. he wants everything, anything that hank is willing to give. )
I was CyberLife's most advanced prototype. It makes sense that they would give me everything that androids have to offer. ( he's trying to be snarky, smart, but his voice is too breathy for that. it's mildly annoying, but the situation does wonders to distract him from that annoyance. connor rolls his hips forward a little, then bucks back into the pressure of the thumb at his asshole. ) As for 'made for fucking'...why don't you find out?
( he's just going to jump straight to that, because he honestly thinks he'll explode if hank doesn't fuck him soon. )
[ fuck, either cyberlife really did install a program for sass or that's part of the whole deviant thing, and hank thinks it's ridiculously sexy either way. there's something about catching connor like this, pushing him to this that is endlessly fascinating. he's never quite seen this particular look on his face before, or the unfettered desire he displays, giving in to instinct and not instruction, and from there comes a whole new host of questions hank is ill-prepared to answer.
connor might not be human, but he's alive, he's as real as hank and he's feeling lust, he's looking at him like he's the only person that matters and hank doesn't have the heart to tell him that there are more people and androids out there suited for connor, not the mess that hank is, stitched together by dull anger and defiant despair.
but now, the words are buried in the back of his mind, subordinate to his own flaring passion, matching lust in his gaze as he cups his face, biting at his lip and kissing him again. ]
Oh, shut up.
[ meant utterly without bite, because here he is making out with this beautiful, lovely thing who actually wants him and all the shit that comes with it, and hank feels it, how connor bucks, pushing into the thumb as his asshole. he meets him halfway, stroking at him before pressing in tentatively, past the ring of muscle and fuck, oh fuck now he knows why just about everyone he knows prefer fucking androids to people.
they feel good, he feels good, smooth and real and warm, and he finds that he wants to kiss him senseless, wants to hear those breathy words again. ]
God, you're a fucking smartass. [ he likes it, too damn much, and it's with great effort that he lets go of both their dicks, burying his thumb inside of him before sliding it out. ]
C'mon, bedroom. On your hands and knees, Connor.
[ it might sound like an order, but it's soft -- hank wants to explore him, wants to take him to bed and find out for himself just what makes him tick, open him up and overwhelm him. ]
( the benefit of setting his own protocols is that he can ignore as many as he agrees to. hank says shut up – a joke, of course, but delivered as an instruction – and connor quite easily dismissed the prompt requesting permission to create a new objective. he kisses back, a little rushed and clumsy because he really hasn't practiced this, and when hank pushes his thumb in further connor gasps against hank's lips, exhales a quiet little moan, and he reaches to grab at hank's arm as if he needs steadying. honestly, he might.
he can set his own protocols, so when hank speaks again with a real instruction this time connor follows through with creating the new objective. main objective: sexual intercourse with hank, with a menu below listing tasks to achieve the main objective – relocate to the bedroom, position self on hands and knees, assess Lt. Anderson for arousal indicators. he leans forward so that he can press his body flush against hank's, tips his head up and catches hank's lips against his own for a kiss that could almost be platonic if it weren't for the near naked bodies and the throbbing erections. he presses closed lips to hank's briefly firm and finished as suddenly as it starts, and then connor quickly slips out from the space between hank and the wall.
he tucks himself back into his briefs before he starts to walk down the hall, pulling the back up over his ass again and blocking any view of the flesh there. he finds hank's room, leaving the door open and heading over to the bed without hesitation. he climbs up, positions himself so that his ass is facing the bedroom door, and then he fixes his gaze forward and waits.
Really? I can't check out your ass while you're walking to the bedroom?
[ hank finds himself more amused than anything because he's watching him anyway, transfixed as he follows him into it, admiring those lean hips, that perky ass, the fact that connor is still wearing garter socks and that does so many sinfully terrible things to him that he thinks he's never going to be normal again.
hank comes in after him now, watching him in the doorway. it's obvious that connor chooses to listen to him this time around, presenting his ass to him like it's the finest thing in the world, and hank doesn't waste any time peeling his briefs off again, unsnapping the garters and pulling those briefs off, off.
he's so hard he could practically break glass, his own thick cock jutting out proudly between his legs, his own desire raging under his skin, and gods, they're finally going to do this -- he's here with connor and they're actually going to go ahead with the fucking. he's spreading those cheeks with calloused hands now, coming up behind connor to admire him, and those fucking perverts at cyberlife really did him a fine, fine thing.
that tight little hole is nice and puckered, smooth as hell and he has the world's most perfect ass, not even one of his favorite twink porn stars has an ass like this, and he rubs his thumb over it, leaning down to press a slow, lazy kiss over his asshole, giving it a tentative lick, his beard rubbing up against soft, smooth skin and he hopes to whoever's listening up there that connor can feel all of it. ]
( he's perfectly still when hank comes into the room, the only movements happening when hank comes close enough to touch him again. he's a little frustrated at this point, winding tight without the imminent promise of relief. even when his underwear is tugged down it's not enough, and by the time hank's hands touch his ass connor shivers under the touch.
he doesn't have thirty odd years of experience to lessen the desire, the neediness, the sensitivity, he's experiencing this all now and he just wants more, more, more. he pushes his hips back as hank spreads his cheeks, his back arched to give him a better angle for access. hank doesn't disappoint, and it's as much the beard rubbing up against his thighs as it is the tentative tongue running over his hole that has connor's hips stuttering forward slightly.
it's better, but still it's not enough – he's still winding tighter, and connor wonders if he will actually start to hurt soon. )
Hank, come on. ( he works hard to keep his voice straight, pushing his ass back against the barely there stimulation, and letting out a soft sigh as hank's beard grazes the sensitive skin on his inner thigh again. ) I'm fine, it's fine. You don't need lube, just– please, touch me.
[ hank grumbles good-naturedly; it really does feel good to have someone as pretty as connor demand his attentions so greedily, so needily; it rouses a purely primal, masculine pride within him, something he'd thought his ex-wife had taken away, and yet here he is, feeling like he could be twenty years younger with this young man presenting his ass for him in his bed.
he catches the quiver, the sigh, and he obliges, pushing his tongue into that hole and opening him up further. he's pretty sure others have a lot to say about rimming an android, but really, they can all shove it up their asses where he's concerned. he loves how connor reacts, nothing programmed, everything in response to what he chooses to do to him, and he gives his ass a slap for his trouble, firm and stinging. ]
'm eating your ass out, aren't I? Anyone done that for you before...?
Not enough. ( he shoots back immediately, and it's a little pettier than connor had intended but too late now, it's already said.
he doesn't have to wait long though, hank obliges with the request, or succumbs to his desires, either way he's pushing his tongue up against connor's asshole and connor practically melts in response. he sighs again, longer and more drawn out, and his elbows are locked into position but they shudder a but when hank slaps his ass.
connor's sigh is bitten off and he groans instead, pushing back into hank, into his tongue, his hand, anything. he'll take it all, whatever hank will give him, and all he can really do is beg for more. so, that's what he does. )
Just you. No one else. ( he answers, voice stuttering slightly despite his best efforts to stay composed. ) It's good, it's– you don't even– please, Hank, it's so good.
hank's not the most possessive man in the world; at least, he doesn't think so, but hearing that he's the first, the only, it does so many damn things to him that it's surprising he hadn't come all over himself right then and there. he's enjoying how connor melts against him as he licks, tongue-fucking him mercilessly, easing him open.
he's hard, so very hard now, but his attention is all on connor's asshole, the tight little ring, and when he draws his tongue out he replaces it with two fingers, delicate but firm, paying careful attention to his every reaction. ]
( the moans that hank drags out of connor aren't exactly the ones he would get from a human – they start that way, soft little noises that build as hank keeps fucking his tongue into connor, but after a certain point each moan starts in a very human-like fashion and crackles into a static at the end. he'd make an effort to stop that, only he really can't manage it when hank is doing that. connor pushes his hips back as much as he can, trying to get as much as hank can give him, and when his tongue disappears without warning he very obviously and very loudly whines at the loss of contact.
and then it's replaced by two fingers pushing into him, and connor's elbow joints suddenly give way. he meets the mattress face first, ass still in the air, and the static moans are back as he pushes himself back onto hank's fingers. the upgraded pleasure sensors also came with the ability to feel pain, and connor had engaged that about a week ago out of curiosity and then promptly forgotten about it. until now at least, because hank's fingers are thick, thicker than his tongue certainly, and the stretch burns in a way he's never experienced before. it makes connor inhale sharply, audibly, but he doesn't tell hank to stop. in fact, he does the opposite. )
Hank, ( the man's name crackles in connor's throat, and he arches his back and changes the angle of his hips slightly to try and push the fingers in further. ) I'm good, I can handle more– I need, please.
[ there's something thrilling about hearing that crackle of static -- it sounds weird as hell, admittedly unnatural, but who the fuck cares; hank doesn't demand that connor be as entirely human as possible, it's stupid to wish for it, even if his quirks surprise him sometimes.
like now, like the way he crackles and calls out for him -- connor might be distinctly inhuman, but the way he needs him isn't. when he arches his back and pushes against him, greedy for his fingers, for more, ass in the air and practically presenting himself to be mated, to be fucked into the mattress, and connor might be patient but hank isn't.
he swallows hard at that soft demand, the promise that he can handle more of this, and he pulls his fingers out slow, already slick with lube. fuck, connor has a self-lubricating ass and that's sexy, sexy as hell and he'll never admit that, not even to himself. he's slicking up his own dick with connor's fluids, stroking himself before pressing the thick, fat head of him against that entrance, for a moment fearing that it would be too small.
it might be, and hank grimaces, delicately pressing against that tight little ring of muscle, his concern for him just barely winning out against the roar of instinct, to fuck right into him and damn the consequences, to haul him back by the neck and drive into that tight, tight vise of an ass -- ]
( is connor's immediate response, word spat out before he's even taken the time to analyse if the answer is correct. the calculations are a low priority, incredibly low, and he folds his arms in front of him to have something to rest his head on as he pushes his entire body back against hank's cock resting at his entrance.
the head pushes in and it burns, connor's mouth falls open but no sound comes out. there's an explosion of error messages and warnings and a number of windows that just provide useless information about his surroundings again, but he quickly dismisses them all except one. his hips twitch and he wriggles back a little more. maybe half an inch slips in, and it's sparking a pain that quickly flags more angry warning notifications and sends a shiver down his spine. the notifications across his UI are very much telling him to remove the foreign object penetrating his anal cavity, but he ignores them and just pulls up the one message he left active. it's the measurements he had noted earlier and never followed through with assessing. he'd been thoroughly distracted by hank, but he gives them his attention now, finally, and—
hank isn't going to fit. )
Uh... ( is his helpful response to this information. testing, he disables his warning and notification system and braces his arms against the bed, using his full body to push back against hank. he gasps loudly, accompanied by a buzzing sound that seems to come from the same place as his voice, his LED flickers between red and yellow, and his eyes flutter but don't quite close. under half of hank's length is actually inside of him, and he's stretched to the absolute limit. it won't go any further, connor knows that. hank isn't going to fit. ) We might have a problem. I think– you're possibly...too big.
[ he can see it -- he can fucking feel it, the way that tight, hot little channel refuses to give further; hank's been inside enough cunts and asses to know when there's a problem, and it doesn't help that connor's LED is flickering between yellow and red, which almost definitely means that he's in distress.
so he freezes up, stills while halfway inside of him and curses softly, not at connor, even as he grips his hips tight, keeping him still. he's starting to pull out, because hell if he'd hurt connor, that's just messed up. ]
All right, all right. Stop, stop. We're not doin' this. I'm not fucking you up just because of this.
[ but oh, how he misses that tight little ass, how he regrets pulling out of that incredibly tight, slick vise, the heat and clutch of him, the way his ass looks when it's taking cock -- god. he's so damn hard he can cut diamonds, but it looks like it's hand-to-gland combat for tonight. ]
Wait! ( connor's voice is a little too loud when he blurts out the word, and one of his hands immediately shoots back to grab a hold of hank's hip and keep him still. he's managed to pull out a little but he's still inside connor, and he can't help it when his muscles clench slightly at the thought of hank fully inside of him, bottoming out with his hips pressed up against connor's ass. it's the last thing they need, for connor to be squeezing tighter when hank's cock doesn't even fit when connor is stretched as wide as he is capable of, but it's an involuntary response. he doesn't mean to.
connor hold's hank's hip tight, possibly hard enough to bruise, and it's hard to manage in this position but he manages to push himself back up until his arm on the bed is supporting all of his weight. it's the position he started in, more or less, and when he's convinced that hank won't pull out the moment he lets go, connor releases hank's hip.
with both hands he's much more stable, and it's far easier to manoeuvre into the position he wants to be – upright on his knees, legs spreading a bit to make sure hank still has full access, more importantly to make sure that he doesn't inadvertently shift even further off of the cock still just about pushed into his ass. he's fairly certain that once hank is out, he'll be out, won't be game to try again. )
Give me your arm, ( he says, determined and fixed on a goal now. 'i always accomplish my mission' comes to mind – except the mission isn't a cyberlife directive, or a case they're assigned to solve. right now, the goal he's focused single-mindedly on achieving is finding a way to take all of hank's dick. oh how far he's come. ) here, look. Just– I have an idea, I just need you to hold me here.
( he takes hank's arm and moves it around his neck, guiding him to hold tight enough to take his weight. the other hand is still on connor's hip, grip tight enough to prompt notifications about pain receptors again, tight enough that connor would almost wince if he didn't have a greater goal in mind. that hand is fine, connor just rests his one over hank's and rubs briefly, soothing. )
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he does very gently grind his hips forward slightly though, a tiny little roll that only just makes enough contact for hank to even know he had moved at all. it's a little bit teasing, maybe. he lifts his head to hank's neck and presses his lips there instead, humming softly under his breath. ) Something like that...
( yeah, definitely a little bit teasing. "little bit". his mouth skims up a little further, enough that he has to stretch a little, raise up onto the balls of his feet to reach, and he presses a very soft, very chaste kiss just behind hank's ear. grinds his hips just a tiny bit harder. )
I don't know how well my model processes sensations, and I– well I thought you might help me find out.
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he senses it, the purity in connor's explorations, the curiosity alight in every movement, the fact that he's actually horny, those warm, soft lips against his neck. it sets his pulse racing the way it hadn't in far too many years, and hank remembers the porn he'd watched from time to time. he remembers something like this, and wonders if connor's watched it too, imagining himself in a scenario like this.
pressing back against him, he turns his head just a little to catch those lips, his dick stirring shamefully in his trousers. ]
Do you even have...
[ you know, the working bits, the sex bits, because connor sure as hell as a libido and fuck those guys at cyberlife (except maybe not really because everything about this is weird and freaky in all the best, dick-stirring ways). also, apparently, they're way overdue for the sex talk. ]
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he pulls hank's hips back into his own, grinding forward with more purpose this time, and – the main point of this – he presses the hard line of his dick against hank's ass. his hips roll forward slowly, and he lets out a soft huff of air against hank's cheek.
( it's entirely unnecessary, of course, but it's easier to emulate human responses in moments like this. he doesn't want to waste additional processors coming up with something for himself, after all. )
one of his hand slips up hank's shirt, and he's still pressed up completely against hank's back but now that he's slowly grinding it's a little harder to keep his focus. his hand frequently stops as his breath hitches, but he'll explore as much as hank will allow him. )
I'm fully equipped, if that's what you want to know. ( the words come out as a mumble, and he has to strain and stretch on his toes to get to him with the awkward angle but connor manages to get his chin over hank's shoulder and reaches to meet his lips with the older man's. it's not easy, but connor does it. ) Will you help, then?
( the question obviously punctuated with a shallow thrust of his hips into hank's ass. )
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hank can feel it even if connor doesn't say a thing, the interesting press of his hips against his, the unfamiliar press of that bulge -- and not for the first time he wonders at just how lifelike androids are, how they so effortlessly simulate humanity and yet...
yet. he can feel that hand sliding up his skin, the heat in every movement, the intent written in every touch. hank shifts now, responding; he'd be lying if he said that he doesn't want this, if he hasn't thought of it. connor has been pretty much the star of just about every wet dream he's had now, his face replacing some nameless pretty boy from time to time, and he shifts to make it easier for him, turning around to grasp connor's chin.
he's tilting his face up now, leaning down to kiss him. this is unlike the kisses they've previously shared; this is definitely unchaste, hungry, a result of holding himself back for too long for a myriad reasons. ]
Yeah, yeah. Then you won't call me in the morning.
[ he tells him dryly in between kisses -- there's no putting this off now, is there? still, he tries. ] ...are you sure about this?
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( he holds his gaze for a moment, quiet and very intense as he looks up at hank. he's so genuine that it's almost painful, checking his thirst at the door for a moment so that he can look earnestly at the man. he removes the remaining hand from hank's hip, using it to cup his cheek instead. )
I'm very sure, Hank. I'll let you know the moment I'm not.
( he leans up then, closing the gap between them to steal another kiss. he waits a moment, keeping it gentle and sweet for a moment or two before he dares to push it a little. he slides his fingers into hank's hair gripping gently, and pushes his other hand back up hank's shirt. he finds a nipple and grazes his fingers around it gently.
and the kiss? the kiss quickly dials up. it's hungry, a little desperate, he's barely willing to stop long enough for hank to take a few breaths before he's diving in again, and it's all pressing chests together and tugging hair and lips and tongue and teeth. he wants, he wants, he wants.
his hand drops from hank's chest briefly, and he grabs the hem of the shirt instead. )
Can I take this off?
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[ hank says gruffly, looking at him dead in the eye. there are so many better options out there and they both know it, and yet here connor is, shacking up with him, wanting sex as if there isn't some error in his system somewhere and how hank wants him anyway, mutual desire scorching his veins and he's the most sober he's ever been.
he regrets it, the sobriety, but can't bring himself to feel too deeply about that. he's kissing him right back, fierce and searching, a hand coming to cup the back of his head to hold him in place, as if connor can't merely break him over his knee in an instant.
he's licking into his mouth, greedy, filthy, his own desire rousing from embers as he lets go of him for only a few moments, carelessly tugging his shirt up and off, tossing it carelessly aside. ]
Now you. [ he says before he can take it back. fuck this, he's just going to lean into it, see where it goes -- connor's touch is too warm, too purposeful and too intoxicating, and hank has missed sex. this, too, is just about all connor's fault. ] Everything off.
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( and then they're kissing again. he doesn't need to breathe, but he ends up a little breathless after the kiss all the same. he tends to default towards engaging his respiratory response around hank, ever since the man told him it was like sitting next to a corpse when they watched a movie together one night he's made a point to keep the function engaged. now it leaves him with a tight, fuzzy feeling in his chest as he runs through a laboured breathing response – all simulated, of course, but that doesn't make it feel any less real.
when hank's shirt comes off his hands quickly come up to press against his chest. connor touches along his skin carefully, reverently as he drags his fingers across old scars, little reminders of how very human hank is. he stops at his nipples, circling one with a finger before rolling the nub between his finger and thumb. his head ducks to the other, quickly before hank can protest, and he flicks his tongue against it before pressing a gentle little kiss over the top.
and then he pulls back entirely. there's too much space between them now and connor's system practically screams at the loss of contact, but he has a task to complete. he quickly undoes his tie, leaving the material hanging loose around his neck, and then slips off the jacket. it's no longer the cyberlife branded one, now he wears a plain black one in a similar style. his shirt is unbuttoned just as quickly, and he folds both items before putting them on the counter beside hank's bagged bottle.
his fingers hover over his belt, and he watches hank's reactions closely as he unbuckles and then removes it. next go the pants, as quickly and efficiently as the rest of his clothes. he toes off his shoes, pants folded and placed with the rest of the clothes. he stops there, still in a small pair of plain black boxer briefs with the tie hanging loose around his neck. his socks are on, held up by garters on each leg. it's not everything, he hasn't completed this objective yet, but he stops and looks at hank anyway. )
Everything?
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that damn sass is more than halfway believable, anyway.
but he's watching. he's watching when connor neatly divests himself of his clothing, proper and neat and just once, he thinks, he wants to knock all that prim programming out of him, send him into a tizzy, overwhelm him with emotion, sensation, and when his gaze meets his next hank is hungry. he can see it, the lifelike ripple of his skin, the muscles underneath, every movement exquisite and smooth and yet not so polished as they are to betray connor's nature.
no, connor's different despite the pointed reminder, and he shakes his head. ]
No, keep those on.
[ he tells him simply, coming over to slide large, calloused hands down those lean hips, pushing those plain boxer briefs off only to free his cock, watching it spring free, practically. honestly, he doesn't know what he had been expecting, but it sure isn't this. it's very well...made, hairless, perfect, and gods his balls, too. he's staring, for a moment not quite knowing what to say, those briefs half-off, good and proper. ]
...Huh.
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he watches it all. and he wants more. )
Not exactly an eloquent reaction.
( connor quips, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. when he finally moves, it's just to tuck his fingers into the waistband of hank's pants. connor is practically naked now, only a few articles of clothing left hanging, and all hank has removed is a shirt. it seems a little unfair.
he drops one hand, pressing firmly against hank's crotch through the material of his trousers. and then he rubs slowly, feeling the reaction of hank's cock stirring underneath his palm. he presses a little firmer, pace still slow and languid but with a slowly increasing pressure. )
I think you're overdressed.
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[ hank counters, his response without bite when he notices the note of amusement in his voice, realising the way connor sees to explore. he's reaching out to cup his cock in his hand, surprised at the shape and weight of it, how warm it is, how it almost feels like it's throbbing. at this moment, connor has never been more human, and he's about to say something to that effect when the android takes it upon himself to grope him, feeling him up.
gods, but he's already thickening in his pants, his dick practically tenting the loose material, and he groans, moving to push connor up against the wall, a hand beside his head. he's still stroking connor's dick, thumbing over the underside, pressing up against the vein. can connor feel this? does he like it? does he feel like he's going to snap at any moment, the way hank feels now, with that hand feeling him up?
there are so many, many things hank wants to do to him, each one more depraved than the last, but oh, it's his own long-dormant sense of self-control that keeps him behaving, keeps him from ramping it up too quickly. ]
Then take my pants off.
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( that's shot back almost immediately, all contrary snark, but he loses his composure the moment hank's hand wraps around his dick. he knew that the sensors installed in the phallus component were designed to be reactive, knew that patch updates had given androids the ability to receive the stimuli as pleasurable now, but actually experiencing it is very different.
connor doesn't so much as whisper a protest when hank moves him back to the wall. instead he just bucks his hips into hank's hand, hips stuttering a little as he brings his hands back to the waistband, searching for the button. it's a little hard to think clearly, honestly, but he doesn't want to admit that just yet. )
Don't stop.
( he murmurs the words, tilting his head back against the wall as he fumbles to get hank's pants undone – and then finally the button slips out and he can get the fly undone, he can shove the pants down to mid-thigh and start palming hank through his underwear instead. he moves his hand to the rhythm that hank sets, hips jerking in time with the press of hank's thumb. he can definitely feel it, that is abundantly obvious. it's even clumsier when connor grows impatient with the underwear and pushes them down too. they don't make it as far as hank's pants, shoved down just enough for connor's hand to slip in and grasp his cock fully.
it's...big. he notes that almost immediately, though he really can't focus enough to run an analysis of the measurements. it's a later problem, one they'll figure out when they get there. for now connor just wraps his hand around hank's cock and drags it up slowly, still pushing his hips up into hank's hand with a little desperation. )
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then again, everything about this is inappropriate, which is when he switches to fondling his balls, heavy, perfectly-shaped, and god they really do make 'em so much like human that it's so easy to lose himself in connor's pleasure, hooked on every little reactive sound. he grunts when connor continues to feel him up, shoving down his pants to get at his dick properly and hank, oh, he fucking likes this, he loves how his dick feels in that hand, and he thrusts back against him, slick and insistent.
it takes a few moments before he gently bats him away, palming both their cocks and lining them up together, his mouth hungrily searching his out to kiss, and kiss, and kiss -- he's intoxicated by this, by how much connor wants, and when he breaks the kiss he jerks his hips against him, eyes dark with lust. ]
You got a...
[ yeah, his other hand is coming around back, feeling up that tight, tight ass and oh, fuck. they really fucking made a hole right back there, complete with tight, puckered little rim, and he's thumbing at it, breath caught in his throat. ] god, they made you good for fucking, didn't they?
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he wants to see hank for this, and the notifications were doing a damn good job of preventing that. there's unlikely to be anything of value there anyway.
there's less direct stimulation when hank replaces his hand with his cock, enough that connor finally can get a handle of his rapidly firing systems. but then he grinds his hips and the momentary window for clear thought is gone. he's rolling his hips forward, sliding his cock against hank's with a tight friction that feels amazing. connor is decently well-endowned, a little above average but not so much as to make humans feel inadequate – but next to hank's dick he looks small. it's not an unpleasant thought at all.
connor is already preparing his snarky response, mouth open to speak back, but when a thumb pushes against his asshole it's a soft moan that escapes instead. that's new. he huffs slightly, head tipping back against the wall as he tries to decide between grinding up into hank's cock or back into the thumb at his ass. in the end he just wiggles his hips a little, eyeing hank with a look that just reads pure lust. he wants everything, anything that hank is willing to give. )
I was CyberLife's most advanced prototype. It makes sense that they would give me everything that androids have to offer. ( he's trying to be snarky, smart, but his voice is too breathy for that. it's mildly annoying, but the situation does wonders to distract him from that annoyance. connor rolls his hips forward a little, then bucks back into the pressure of the thumb at his asshole. ) As for 'made for fucking'...why don't you find out?
( he's just going to jump straight to that, because he honestly thinks he'll explode if hank doesn't fuck him soon. )
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connor might not be human, but he's alive, he's as real as hank and he's feeling lust, he's looking at him like he's the only person that matters and hank doesn't have the heart to tell him that there are more people and androids out there suited for connor, not the mess that hank is, stitched together by dull anger and defiant despair.
but now, the words are buried in the back of his mind, subordinate to his own flaring passion, matching lust in his gaze as he cups his face, biting at his lip and kissing him again. ]
Oh, shut up.
[ meant utterly without bite, because here he is making out with this beautiful, lovely thing who actually wants him and all the shit that comes with it, and hank feels it, how connor bucks, pushing into the thumb as his asshole. he meets him halfway, stroking at him before pressing in tentatively, past the ring of muscle and fuck, oh fuck now he knows why just about everyone he knows prefer fucking androids to people.
they feel good, he feels good, smooth and real and warm, and he finds that he wants to kiss him senseless, wants to hear those breathy words again. ]
God, you're a fucking smartass. [ he likes it, too damn much, and it's with great effort that he lets go of both their dicks, burying his thumb inside of him before sliding it out. ]
C'mon, bedroom. On your hands and knees, Connor.
[ it might sound like an order, but it's soft -- hank wants to explore him, wants to take him to bed and find out for himself just what makes him tick, open him up and overwhelm him. ]
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he can set his own protocols, so when hank speaks again with a real instruction this time connor follows through with creating the new objective. main objective: sexual intercourse with hank, with a menu below listing tasks to achieve the main objective – relocate to the bedroom, position self on hands and knees, assess Lt. Anderson for arousal indicators. he leans forward so that he can press his body flush against hank's, tips his head up and catches hank's lips against his own for a kiss that could almost be platonic if it weren't for the near naked bodies and the throbbing erections. he presses closed lips to hank's briefly firm and finished as suddenly as it starts, and then connor quickly slips out from the space between hank and the wall.
he tucks himself back into his briefs before he starts to walk down the hall, pulling the back up over his ass again and blocking any view of the flesh there. he finds hank's room, leaving the door open and heading over to the bed without hesitation. he climbs up, positions himself so that his ass is facing the bedroom door, and then he fixes his gaze forward and waits.
connor can be patient. probably. he thinks. )
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[ hank finds himself more amused than anything because he's watching him anyway, transfixed as he follows him into it, admiring those lean hips, that perky ass, the fact that connor is still wearing garter socks and that does so many sinfully terrible things to him that he thinks he's never going to be normal again.
hank comes in after him now, watching him in the doorway. it's obvious that connor chooses to listen to him this time around, presenting his ass to him like it's the finest thing in the world, and hank doesn't waste any time peeling his briefs off again, unsnapping the garters and pulling those briefs off, off.
he's so hard he could practically break glass, his own thick cock jutting out proudly between his legs, his own desire raging under his skin, and gods, they're finally going to do this -- he's here with connor and they're actually going to go ahead with the fucking. he's spreading those cheeks with calloused hands now, coming up behind connor to admire him, and those fucking perverts at cyberlife really did him a fine, fine thing.
that tight little hole is nice and puckered, smooth as hell and he has the world's most perfect ass, not even one of his favorite twink porn stars has an ass like this, and he rubs his thumb over it, leaning down to press a slow, lazy kiss over his asshole, giving it a tentative lick, his beard rubbing up against soft, smooth skin and he hopes to whoever's listening up there that connor can feel all of it. ]
Y'need lube for this?
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he doesn't have thirty odd years of experience to lessen the desire, the neediness, the sensitivity, he's experiencing this all now and he just wants more, more, more. he pushes his hips back as hank spreads his cheeks, his back arched to give him a better angle for access. hank doesn't disappoint, and it's as much the beard rubbing up against his thighs as it is the tentative tongue running over his hole that has connor's hips stuttering forward slightly.
it's better, but still it's not enough – he's still winding tighter, and connor wonders if he will actually start to hurt soon. )
Hank, come on. ( he works hard to keep his voice straight, pushing his ass back against the barely there stimulation, and letting out a soft sigh as hank's beard grazes the sensitive skin on his inner thigh again. ) I'm fine, it's fine. You don't need lube, just– please, touch me.
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[ hank grumbles good-naturedly; it really does feel good to have someone as pretty as connor demand his attentions so greedily, so needily; it rouses a purely primal, masculine pride within him, something he'd thought his ex-wife had taken away, and yet here he is, feeling like he could be twenty years younger with this young man presenting his ass for him in his bed.
he catches the quiver, the sigh, and he obliges, pushing his tongue into that hole and opening him up further. he's pretty sure others have a lot to say about rimming an android, but really, they can all shove it up their asses where he's concerned. he loves how connor reacts, nothing programmed, everything in response to what he chooses to do to him, and he gives his ass a slap for his trouble, firm and stinging. ]
'm eating your ass out, aren't I? Anyone done that for you before...?
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he doesn't have to wait long though, hank obliges with the request, or succumbs to his desires, either way he's pushing his tongue up against connor's asshole and connor practically melts in response. he sighs again, longer and more drawn out, and his elbows are locked into position but they shudder a but when hank slaps his ass.
connor's sigh is bitten off and he groans instead, pushing back into hank, into his tongue, his hand, anything. he'll take it all, whatever hank will give him, and all he can really do is beg for more. so, that's what he does. )
Just you. No one else. ( he answers, voice stuttering slightly despite his best efforts to stay composed. ) It's good, it's– you don't even– please, Hank, it's so good.
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hank's not the most possessive man in the world; at least, he doesn't think so, but hearing that he's the first, the only, it does so many damn things to him that it's surprising he hadn't come all over himself right then and there. he's enjoying how connor melts against him as he licks, tongue-fucking him mercilessly, easing him open.
he's hard, so very hard now, but his attention is all on connor's asshole, the tight little ring, and when he draws his tongue out he replaces it with two fingers, delicate but firm, paying careful attention to his every reaction. ]
Love it when you stutter, you know that?
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and then it's replaced by two fingers pushing into him, and connor's elbow joints suddenly give way. he meets the mattress face first, ass still in the air, and the static moans are back as he pushes himself back onto hank's fingers. the upgraded pleasure sensors also came with the ability to feel pain, and connor had engaged that about a week ago out of curiosity and then promptly forgotten about it. until now at least, because hank's fingers are thick, thicker than his tongue certainly, and the stretch burns in a way he's never experienced before. it makes connor inhale sharply, audibly, but he doesn't tell hank to stop. in fact, he does the opposite. )
Hank, ( the man's name crackles in connor's throat, and he arches his back and changes the angle of his hips slightly to try and push the fingers in further. ) I'm good, I can handle more– I need, please.
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like now, like the way he crackles and calls out for him -- connor might be distinctly inhuman, but the way he needs him isn't. when he arches his back and pushes against him, greedy for his fingers, for more, ass in the air and practically presenting himself to be mated, to be fucked into the mattress, and connor might be patient but hank isn't.
he swallows hard at that soft demand, the promise that he can handle more of this, and he pulls his fingers out slow, already slick with lube. fuck, connor has a self-lubricating ass and that's sexy, sexy as hell and he'll never admit that, not even to himself. he's slicking up his own dick with connor's fluids, stroking himself before pressing the thick, fat head of him against that entrance, for a moment fearing that it would be too small.
it might be, and hank grimaces, delicately pressing against that tight little ring of muscle, his concern for him just barely winning out against the roar of instinct, to fuck right into him and damn the consequences, to haul him back by the neck and drive into that tight, tight vise of an ass -- ]
You sure I can fit --
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( is connor's immediate response, word spat out before he's even taken the time to analyse if the answer is correct. the calculations are a low priority, incredibly low, and he folds his arms in front of him to have something to rest his head on as he pushes his entire body back against hank's cock resting at his entrance.
the head pushes in and it burns, connor's mouth falls open but no sound comes out. there's an explosion of error messages and warnings and a number of windows that just provide useless information about his surroundings again, but he quickly dismisses them all except one. his hips twitch and he wriggles back a little more. maybe half an inch slips in, and it's sparking a pain that quickly flags more angry warning notifications and sends a shiver down his spine. the notifications across his UI are very much telling him to remove the foreign object penetrating his anal cavity, but he ignores them and just pulls up the one message he left active. it's the measurements he had noted earlier and never followed through with assessing. he'd been thoroughly distracted by hank, but he gives them his attention now, finally, and—
hank isn't going to fit. )
Uh... ( is his helpful response to this information. testing, he disables his warning and notification system and braces his arms against the bed, using his full body to push back against hank. he gasps loudly, accompanied by a buzzing sound that seems to come from the same place as his voice, his LED flickers between red and yellow, and his eyes flutter but don't quite close. under half of hank's length is actually inside of him, and he's stretched to the absolute limit. it won't go any further, connor knows that. hank isn't going to fit. ) We might have a problem. I think– you're possibly...too big.
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so he freezes up, stills while halfway inside of him and curses softly, not at connor, even as he grips his hips tight, keeping him still. he's starting to pull out, because hell if he'd hurt connor, that's just messed up. ]
All right, all right. Stop, stop. We're not doin' this. I'm not fucking you up just because of this.
[ but oh, how he misses that tight little ass, how he regrets pulling out of that incredibly tight, slick vise, the heat and clutch of him, the way his ass looks when it's taking cock -- god. he's so damn hard he can cut diamonds, but it looks like it's hand-to-gland combat for tonight. ]
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connor hold's hank's hip tight, possibly hard enough to bruise, and it's hard to manage in this position but he manages to push himself back up until his arm on the bed is supporting all of his weight. it's the position he started in, more or less, and when he's convinced that hank won't pull out the moment he lets go, connor releases hank's hip.
with both hands he's much more stable, and it's far easier to manoeuvre into the position he wants to be – upright on his knees, legs spreading a bit to make sure hank still has full access, more importantly to make sure that he doesn't inadvertently shift even further off of the cock still just about pushed into his ass. he's fairly certain that once hank is out, he'll be out, won't be game to try again. )
Give me your arm, ( he says, determined and fixed on a goal now. 'i always accomplish my mission' comes to mind – except the mission isn't a cyberlife directive, or a case they're assigned to solve. right now, the goal he's focused single-mindedly on achieving is finding a way to take all of hank's dick. oh how far he's come. ) here, look. Just– I have an idea, I just need you to hold me here.
( he takes hank's arm and moves it around his neck, guiding him to hold tight enough to take his weight. the other hand is still on connor's hip, grip tight enough to prompt notifications about pain receptors again, tight enough that connor would almost wince if he didn't have a greater goal in mind. that hand is fine, connor just rests his one over hank's and rubs briefly, soothing. )
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