Work Text:
Hank has far too much time on his hands. No job, no interviews, not enough hobbies… Hell, even if he could get an interview in this garbage job market, who would hire him? It’ll look sketchy as hell when he resigns immediately after his suspension ends. Not that he’s guaranteed the chance for a voluntary resignation, but Jeffrey’s working on it. One last professional favor, and one that’s only going to be managed thanks to literally everyone being far more focused on everything about androids to care about Hank. The only reason no one’s truly looked his way yet is because CyberLife’s footage would show their own android holding him at gunpoint, so they’re keeping it locked down tight.
With the city still halfway out of commission, there’s not much to do outside of volunteer work, and Hank’s less charitable than he used to be. Many evacuees still haven’t returned, former residents have moved elsewhere, infrastructure is as shit as it’s always been and only made worse after the revolution, and androids with nowhere to go and no jobs to work are everywhere—carving out their lives, organizing and helping each other, or campaigning for more.
Hank’s supportive, of course. He’s been to a few events, some on his own and some with Connor, who’s now his roommate on account of the android not having anywhere else and not wanting to crowd the few facilities that are available. Connor’s not there most of the time—he’s managed to get himself a job, by some miracle (or perhaps, as he confided his suspicions to Hank, the manager likes the traffic that comes with the occasional media attention)—but he’s a comfortable presence. Almost seems to have his head on slightly better than Hank.
Life’s changed, but boredom hasn’t, and neither have the things Hank does when he’s bored, namely: Eat, drink, sleep, watch TV, and jerk off. His masturbation-to-drinking ratio has slightly improved, which he thinks is kind of good, but what does it say about him that he thinks about his life in those terms?
It doesn’t matter, anyway, not when his cock gets hard at the thought of getting frisky. He hasn’t slept with anyone for years, and while he craves that intimacy at times (when he can look past the self-loathing), he can at least get the feeling whenever he wants.
He shuffles in the back of his sock drawer for the toy he knows is back there. It’s been years since he last used it, thanks to both his libido dropping and his grudge against CyberLife, but it looks as tempting and uncanny as he remembers it being. The masturbation sleeve looks exactly like human flesh at the front, enough so that he winces at how goddamn dry the vulva looks despite all the work that’s gone into making it look plush and healthy. The shiny chrome tube stands out in sharp contrast.
He gives it a quick rinse to get rid of some of the lint, then locks himself in his room. There’s hours yet until Connor comes home, but he used to take these precautions with all his roommates. Hard habit to break. He doesn’t need Sumo trying to barge in, either, though the dog’s pretty well behaved (and currently napping).
As he settles in on his bed with a bottle of lube, jeans unzipped and half-hard cock poking out, he scrunches up his face at the toy. It doesn’t look exactly as he remembers; he thought the labia were thicker and pinker, and he could’ve sworn the clit wasn’t this big. But his memory isn't as good as it once was, and the toy isn’t any less enticing, so he drizzles some lube into it until it’s plenty slicked up, pours a few drops on the clit, and holds down the power button at the back.
The toy immediately begins to warm in his hands. It clenches, synthetic muscles rippling like it’s a living thing, and Hank pushes aside the stray thought that a sex toy could deviate. It doesn’t have enough programming for that (which he knows mostly from talk shows). What it can do is react to him in a similar way to a horny human who actually wants him. The clit hardens when he brushes his thumb across it, so he continues to tease it, rubbing and stroking for a good couple of minutes until it’s as hard and erect as he is.
Hank presses the swollen head of his cock against the entrance, receiving a spirited spasm in response. The way he rubs against the opening makes for a tantalizing image. He doesn’t savor it long; he’s too horny for that. He pushes down until he’s hilted, and God, what a feeling! The rippled texture alone feels angelic against his skin, but the hot, tight, wet heat, and the muscles tightening so snugly around him… It’s a wonder he doesn’t come right away.
Connor’s in the middle of steaming milk for a latte when his genital component activates.
The feeling is immediately unusual. For one, he’s never had a part activated while detached from him, and for another, there should be absolutely no reason that it would activate while he’s nowhere near it. On top of that, it feels cold and wet. His instinctive first thought is that he’s malfunctioning, that some program initiated to make him feel something incompatible with his current featureless crotch component.
Then a thumb runs across his clit and he almost drops the milk.
He’s clever. It takes only seconds to figure out what’s happened—that Hank has removed and activated the component—but he struggles to wrap his head around that. Hank, touching him with his hands, fingers rubbing in all his sensitive spots while he makes sure to clamp down on any physical reaction where the rest of himself is. There shouldn’t be any reason that Hank is doing this… Perhaps it was an error in judgment on his part to store his component so close to one of Hank’s sex toys, but there were scant few suitable locations for it. It’s not like Connor has his own room, after all.
Connor manages to finish making the coffee and serve it with a bright smile. He gains a moment of relief where he doesn’t need to quit squirming before he feels pressure at his entrance.
Oh, God. That’s Hank’s cock.
He clenches, aching after the teasing and morbidly curious how it would feel inside him. He sends a text to Hank—innocuous, requesting a call—but if Hank even gets a notification, he doesn’t stop rubbing against Connor’s hungry entrance.
He’s looked at men a few times, including Hank, but he’s not yet had the inclination to pursue any such feelings. (Masturbation, on the other hand, had him purchasing both a vulva and a blank plate to go along with his factory-installed penis.) Sex has been low on his list of priorities but features in his fantasies. Sex with Hank… As shocked as he is that this is happening, he isn’t upset, instead feeling a jumble of confusing emotions among the want. He only hopes Hank doesn’t feel bad about this in the end.
They’ll talk it out later.
The next customer lists out their order. Connor bites back a “get on with it” when both the order and Hank drag on. He isn’t left waiting long; as soon as he turns to start the order, Hank slams into him, filling him right up. Connor staggers with a sharp “ah!” and grabs the edge of the counter.
His coworker, Eric, glances over at him. “You okay?” they ask, tone barely concerned at all, before serving up a latte.
“My ankle,” Connor lies. “An injury from last November. I may need to check on it after this order.”
They look over at the growing line of customers, then back at Connor, eyebrows raised.
“My paycheck won’t cover replacements,” he says sheepishly. He turns away to start on the drinks, keeping his lips parted in pleasure but shutting off his vocals. It takes a significant amount of effort to focus on his legs and keep them from shaking.
Hank is moving impossibly fast. Given the speed and angle adjustments, he must be moving the attachment as if jerking himself off. He’s far thicker than Connor’s fingers and reaches far deeper than Connor’s felt before. Each withdrawal drags the ridge of Hank’s head against Connor’s front wall, nearly making his legs twitch each time it rubs across his G-spot. Every few strokes he hilts himself inside of Connor, roughly pressing Connor’s cock against the denim at Hank’s crotch. The lack of care is almost arousing in itself and it keeps him on edge in its near unpredictability.
It’s so good that he comes right there behind the counter, venting heat out his mouth as he steams milk for the next drink. He closes his eyes to keep anyone from seeing them rolling back and grips the counter in case his legs give out. He shakes slightly and can’t keep his thighs from tensing as his not-currently-present insides clench erratically, making it feel like Hank’s stretching him even further.
Hank fucks him through the orgasm without reprieve like some sort of delicious torture. It takes a minute, but Connor soon feels like he can open his eyes again, a solid twenty seconds after the milk has finished steaming.
He can’t believe he just orgasmed in front of all those people.
When the toy simulates an orgasm, Hank groans loudly. Fuck, it’s so goddamn good and tight, the muscles massaging his cock with as much a grip they can get with all this lube, and he slams it home harder on each stroke. Wet smacking sounds fill the room along with his gasps. When’s the last time he felt something like this? Even the toy’s swollen clit twitches in time with the movements.
It takes its time trying to wring his soul out from his cock before the spasms subside, at which point Hank slows down, too. He’s proud of not going off like a shot, and frankly glad for it, given how good this feels. He wants to savor it. He used to be able to tease himself for hours. This isn’t anywhere near that, but he still knows how to keep himself going even when each stroke is heaven.
The realism inspires him to get a bit more active. He pulls off the toy with a wet schlurp and considers his pillowcase. It ought to work, he reasons, pulling the open end towards him and situating the toy beneath the pillow. It’s not sturdy, but it will work.
He shucks off his jeans and underwear, then pulls the pillow to the edge of the bed and slides off until he’s on his knees and the toy is in front of his face. It’s gentle, warm, and looks so alive that he can’t help but touch it. He pokes and prods at the labia before slipping a finger in, then two, admiring how it clamps down on his fingers and the way the clit throbs. “Gorgeous,” he whispers, and kisses the tip. He can’t resist licking along the underside and then taking it all in his mouth and sucking, making the clit twitch magnificently, though he lets up fairly soon because the lube tastes awful.
Double-checking that the toy’s position is as sturdy as it’s going to get, Hank stands back up. He fills the toy with more lube—the more the merrier, and he’s always had a thing for making someone else as wet as can be—then leans forward with one arm braced against the pillow and uses his other hand to maneuver his cock against the entrance. It flexes eagerly, nearly gushing with warm wetness. He presses in slowly and briefly teases his head against where he thinks the toy’s G-spot is, then fully hilts himself again.
He wraps both arms around the pillow, says a quick prayer for his knees and hips, and sets himself to seeing how hard he can pound this thing.
Connor barely makes it into the back room before Hank starts really going for it. “Fuck,” he whimpers, nearly tripping over himself as he heads straight to the back and collapses onto the foot ladder. He’s so wet that Hank glides in and out near frictionlessly, leaving him aching to press back against him and chase more sensation. Each thrust slams Hank’s skin against Connor’s cock, and every half-minute or so, Hank presses right up against it while grinding into him.
It makes him hot all over to think of Hank giving into primal human urges like this. The need to mate and breed, developed and bolstered over thousands of years of evolution, is programmed in Hank’s own DNA, and Connor finds it an absolute marvel to experience the effects of that. He tightens around Hank as much as he can, seeking more friction, and the sensations intensify. If his component were still attached to him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he naturally became this wet with this level of arousal, practically leaking lube.
Connor shakily removes a shoe and sock so he can slide off one of the panels on his ankle. If anyone comes in here, he needs a solid excuse that doesn’t involve him staring into space, tense as a spring. He pretends to examine his wires, one hand right at the edge, while losing himself to the feeling of getting pounded.
“Oh,” he whispers at the strange feeling of his component being rotated. Suddenly it feels as if Hank is fucking into him from behind, and the image alone nearly makes Connor short out. Every stroke presses the curved underside of Hank’s cock right against his front wall, sliding across his G-spot with constant stimulation. Hank’s balls smack against Connor’s dick.
God, what he wouldn’t do for some direct stimulation. He squirms, desperately wanting to reach down and rub himself but knowing how futile and frustrating it would be with his blank plate. Instead, he dips his fingers into his wires to keep his hand busy. The sensation is pleasant and warm, but very mild. Not enough to get him off, but enough to keep him from sobbing in the back room.
He can pinpoint the moment when Hank completely loses his rhythm. Hank’s thrusts turn erratic and short, and he buries himself deeply, grinding sweetly into Connor as his cock throbs. His balls tense—and oh, Connor loves that feeling against his cock—and hot cum spills deep inside of him. The heat and thickness of it is incredibly arousing. It clings to Hank’s dick as he makes a few more brief movements, and the bulk of it sits inside Connor, pushing his desire into overdrive.
When Hank withdraws, a viscous trail of cum slowly drips out, sliding down Connor’s labia and cock. He shoves his entire hand wrist-deep into his ankle and his other hand, against his better judgment, goes right to his crotch, rubbing furiously. He feels Hank’s finger hot against his entrance, spreading him wide, and fuck, he needs that hand to really touch him. He squirms and clenches, hoping to get Hank’s attention and mercy.
He doesn’t. He gets a few minutes of nothing, in which he fiddles a bit with his wires then closes up the panel. While he’s still painfully aroused, he can manage it, no matter how hot it is to still feel Hank’s spend inside of him. He can calm down and make it back to the floor.
“Damn.” Hank whistles as he spreads the lips on the toy. It twitches as if begging for his touch, his cum oozing out of it. He hasn’t come that much or that hard in ages. He hates to admit it, but CyberLife really was onto something with this.
He lies back on his bed to catch his breath. Maybe he should try dating again. Hell, even a one night stand could do him wonders. If a toy can make him feel this good and boost his ego this much, how would a person make him feel?
He nearly dozes off, but really doesn’t want to deal with the mess later, so forces himself to sit back up. He pulls the pillow close and takes out the toy, flipping it over so he can turn it off. He presses his finger to the glowing power button until the lights dim, eyes skimming the details engraved on the back. C#V0921-RK800.
The numbers don’t mean much to him, so he shuffles off the bed and takes the toy with him. He runs water through it until all the gunk is cleared out, then gently pats the surface dry. He’ll need to leave it out to air dry, he muses. Best find a spot Connor won’t see it.
That thought makes him freeze halfway through wiping down his own dick. He dries himself off and grabs the toy again, looking at the numbers. RK800. But it can’t be the same, can it?
He hurries back to his room and roughly opens his sock drawer. Tucked into the back is another toy with a much smaller clit and pink, plump lips, covered in more lint than should be possible.
Fuck.
It doesn’t make sense. Is it Connor’s toy? Is it… part of him? Why would he remove it if it were? Regardless, he has the distinct feeling that he fucked up. Once he’s fully dressed, he checks his phone as if there’s some way Connor would have known what he was doing. But there wouldn’t be any way, right?
There’s a single text asking Hank to call him. It’s from less than an hour ago.
A stone settles inside of him. He hits the call button and sits down, dazed. Somehow, Connor must have known Hank activated that thing.
“Hank.”
“Connor.” Hank clears his throat. “Hey. What’s going on?” he asks, voice pitching higher.
“I recall you saying, at one point, that you respected my bluntness. It cut through the bullshit, in your words,” Connor says lightly.
He’s in for it now. “Shoot.”
“I stored one of my genital components in your sock drawer. Incidentally, this was near an unused CyberLife sex toy of similar appearance. I must inform you that, when activated, the component is fully online and capable of transmitting information long-distance.” Connor pauses to let that sink in. “You fucked me, Hank.”
This is it: Worst case scenario. He’s violated Connor’s trust and ruined everything. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t know; he still did it. “I’m so, so sorry, Connor. I didn’t realize it was yours until after. I don’t know how to fix this. Shit, can we—”
“Hank,” Connor interrupts. “That was my assumption and I appreciate the confirmation, but I’m not upset.”
“I crossed a line.”
“You failed to make the appropriate observations and therefore made a human error. We will discuss that. But I don’t want you to get hung up on whether you’ve hurt me or done something wrong, because I enjoyed it. Deeply.”
A sound rings in Hank’s ears. “You enjoyed it?” He almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. He thought Connor would be livid with him.
“Listen, I have to get back to work. Everyone wants their peppermint mochas and Eric’s the only one on the floor. When I get home, we’ll talk some more, okay? If it’s amenable to you, I’d actually like to do this again. After discussing boundaries, of course,” Connor says. “And if not, we can move on like this never happened. I am genuinely not upset with you, Hank.”
“Cool,” Hank says, head still spinning. “I’m still really sorry.” He’s going to be kicking himself for weeks over this, at least, but he’s remarkably relieved that Connor’s okay. Better yet, Connor enjoyed it.
“I’ll be home at 8. See you,” Connor says before hanging up.
That gives Hank a few hours to think about exactly what to say, the moral implications of his actions, and his feelings about Connor propositioning him for more sex. His worst case scenario has quickly turned into a best case scenario. That’s a first.
He gingerly places the component on top of a towel on his bedside table where it can continue to dry out, averting his eyes once done. His traitorous cock twitches at the thought of it. The talk later will certainly be interesting, and it won’t absolve Hank of his guilt all in one go, but he’s not going to make it about his feelings. He’ll see what Connor wants, and if Connor genuinely wants to explore some sort of relationship with him, purely sexual or otherwise, he’s more than willing to listen.
He has a few very important hours of thinking to do.