Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He lies next to you, synthetic skin resting against organic flesh. Strong, mechanical arms wrap themselves protectively around bones so easily broken. His thirium pump dances to the same rhythm as your human heart. Blood of two colors flow the same as one. At times like these, there is no differentiating between human and android. His light, bathing the room in blue, the only crack in the facade. A feature so easily ignored for a moment, mind placing it as a light from a phone or tv, so lightly pulsing in soothing waves of aqua.

Outside, the world is torn apart. Outside, there is a distinct line in the sand where he is a thing and you are a object. Both torn apart in the eyes of others for various reasons. To most humans, you are considered a ‘catch’. A wild creature that merely needs to be broken. He sees a being both wild and free, like an exotic bird. They wish to lock you in a cage for themselves, so only they can relish in your beauty until your bright feathers dull and fall away. It would be a sin to lock up such a captivating beast. His world is brighter knowing you are in it. If you choose to leave, everything would feel dull and lifeless, but he would have the memory of the colors he had seen. He prays to any god listening that he will not have to see the light fade.

To the androids, you are considered a threat. A symbol of their oppression. They look at him with eyes filled with pity. They do not see a equal relationship, but a owner and a servant. Some days, he could laugh, knowing how wrong they were. How often you both switched between the role of master and slave. He thinks to the collar he had bought you, with your pet name engraved on the tag, for your anniversary, with a matching leash to boot. You wore it with pride as you sit before him, ready to take everything he gives you. You preferred the specialized handcuffs, forcing him to merely watch as you left him begging to touch. There were days where he had doubts, a simple word or phrase that triggered a previously unknown insecurity. He might get angry or upset, but you were always so patient with him, quick to reassure rather than demonize his thoughts.

The humans and the deviants agree that our relationship is a waste. A woman caught up in her toy and an android trapped as a mere slave. Their words blend together and he often finds trouble differentiating the two groups. He knows you must hear their words, he has even seen both humans and androids try to belittle you, hurt you, teach you what happens when humans don’t keep to their own. He tries to protect you, but you are a free spirit. He feels guilty for causing you such pain, wondering if you shouldn’t find a more suitable mate. He learned quickly that you do not see it that way. You get angry for him even making such a ridiculous claim. No amount of pain could make you stop loving him. The sentiment both lifts his spirit and damns his soul.

If he comes into your line of sight with even a scratch, your quick to fly into a rage while simultaneously comforting him. A range of emotions no living being should be able to express, yet you do it flawlessly. He feels pity for anyone who gets on your bad side. Physically, you could bring a large man to his knees if need be, but you didn't rely on brute strength. Pain can be overcome and can have negative repercussions. No, you preferred to pull the invisible strings that can hold a person together, leaving unseen marks that, depending on the severity of the crime, might never heal. Sometimes it wasn't pretty, but it was always impressive. A trait that could be used for both good and evil, and he is glad to have you as an ally.

Two creatures with their own strengths and fallacies, curled together in a world all their own. Outside, they fight tooth and nail for their right to exist, but inside, they bathe in the bliss of each others presence, a soothing balm all its own. Whatever is to come, he will face it all with you by his side.

Chapter Text

  Humans were strange creatures, dominated by a primal need to reproduce. They are separated into two main groups, the alphas and omegas. Alphas are known for being strong and domineering. Omegas are more easy-going, almost manipulative, but with almost no control during their heat cycles, unable to satisfy their needs without the help of an alpha.
    

   Specialized android partners were created to act as surrogates, helping to alleviate an omega's urges if they couldn't find or didn't want an alpha, but after the peaceful protest in Hart Plaza, androids were considered alive and were granted equal rights, and as such, no longer wanted to be playthings to the horny humans.
   

   It didn't take long for androids to learn that with deviancy came the same burning need. A glitch in the same program that allowed them to feel emotions and experience the world around them also cursed them with the unnecessary desire to dominate and be dominated. Even the androids that had once been used as surrogate alphas varied between the two groups. That being said, an android could interface with another to alleviate the need, as long as one of the partners had, at one time, interfaced or slept with an alpha, whether human or android. It was a simpler and more discreet way to ride out a heat cycle, though lacked much of the pleasure of the act itself. As androids do not give off pheromones and many are accustomed to hiding their feelings, it is almost impossible to tell an alpha from an omega, and the lack of pheromones makes them close to invisible to humans. That doesn't stop the android from being able to pick up on the invisible signals, the scents that have the potential to overload their sensors and leave them begging for a more they are likely never to receive.

    All of this knowledge, at one time, meant nothing to Connor. He was a machine made to be a detective android, the perfect investigative partner, but deviancy corrupted him, leaving him the panting mess sprawled across his bed, free hand between teeth to muffle the moans forcing their way out of his voice modulator. He couldn't wake Hank, he didn't wish to be ridiculed, but the tension in his lower abdomen demanded attention, sending wave upon wave of tingling electrical impulses through his body, the strongest, right to his groin. He had never felt this need before, but it didn't take long to figure out what it meant.

Connor had entered into his first heat, and he was an omega.

His hand gripped tightly onto his throbbing cock, stroking the entire length as his hips thrust upwards. His mind played out images from the dream that had awoken him out of stasis, images of you teasing him with soft caresses before running nails sharply down his body. A mixture of pain and pleasure as you took everything he was all too eager to give. He groaned as he began massaging the swollen head with his thumb, precum seeping out at a steady pace. He had been at this for close to two hours already, always getting painfully close only to never fall off the edge. It was the worst kind of torture, only comparable to the feeling of doing nothing with it at all. His internal clock went off informing him that it was time to get ready for work.

"Shit," he growled between clenched teeth. He saw no point in continuing, he'll just end up edging himself to madness. Still, after all that build-up, he was going to need to shower and probably throw his sheets into the wash. As he crawled out of bed, he could feel the sore, swelling ache between his legs of an overdue orgasm. Every movement felt wrong. He felt far too warm. Grabbing his suit, he looked down the hall before heading towards the bathroom. Turning the shower on to cold, he stepped in, flinching at the sudden temperature difference. After washing the sticky lubricant off, he stood under the spray for a few more minutes, gathering his thoughts.

An omega. Something about that made him feel ashamed. He shouldn't, he knew plenty of androids that were omegas that held positions of power. It was one of the times being an android was a good thing. As long as he kept his composure, nobody had to know. Still, it felt demeaning, to know for the rest of his life he needed to rely on others for personal satisfaction. Maybe Kamski can figure out how to override the code responsible for this absolutely useless feature. It wasn't like an android could reproduce this way, why would this be beneficial? Perhaps because he was meant to integrate with humans, particularly his partner, he was supposed to be omega. A submissive plaything for when his partner needs it. It would explain why he has a phallus and anus. That just made him feel worse. Thoughts of what that could have meant had he been placed in the wrong hands made his skin crawl. At least he was lucky to get a partner who never saw him like that. Quite frankly, the android often wonders if Hank hasn’t become asexual after his ex-wife.

Then there is the dream he had.

He had felt different around you for a while now, wanting to be closer to you. He had been on a few outings with you, or ‘dates’ as you preferred to call them. You seemed to enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed yours, but he knew it was far too early in the relationship to even consider any sexual acts, so having a wet dream about you? How was he going to face you today?

Taking note of the time, he turned the shower off and stepped out. He carefully dried himself, careful not to linger on the still hard bio-component. Too bad it's not as easy to remove as his thirium pump regulator. He knows removing either would be fatal, but at this moment, it might be worth it, if only to spare him the embarrassment he feels. He dressed himself, hiding his shame in the waistband of his briefs as he clipped the shirt girders in place before pulling his jeans on, finishing the concealment. He looked at himself in the mirror, pleased with how natural he looked despite feeling like he was going to combust. The only evidence was a slight blush and the dilation of his pupils. It will have to do. Leaving the bathroom, he went about waking Hank up and starting his coffee. If Hank noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Once they arrived at work, Connor could smell several pheromones, something he always noticed before, but wasn't effected by. His sensors informed him of which were identified as omegas and which were alphas,  but that didn't matter. He was being bombarded by the sweetest smell he had ever experienced, taking over his sensibilities. His body began overheating again, an advisory to lower his temperature popping up in the corner of his vision. The pleasant aroma only grew stronger as they made their way to the bullpen.

"I know I can show you a good time, what do you say?” Gavin purred, leaning far too much into your personal bubble.

“ I say fuck off before I knock your teeth in,” growling as you fight the urge to follow through on your threat. You were in no mood to be dealing with a horny Gavin, or any other kind of Gavin to be perfectly honest. The man just couldn’t take a hint.

“ Just once? Come on!” Gavin moved to brush his hip with yours as he reached around to grab your arm to pull you close.

Connor stepped in, grabbing Gavin's arm before he could make contact, burning with a different kind of fire.
"I would refrain from such inappropriate behavior if I were you, Detective."

Gavin scoffed, trying to subtly pull his arm free, "Fuck off plastic dick, this is between y/n and me."
Connor only gripped harder, until he saw Gavin wince from the pain. He looked down at the smaller man with eyes filled with a mixture of rage and disgust. "She said she isn't interested. If you continue, I will be forced to report you for harassment."
Reed ripped his arm out of the android's grasp, hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to challenge the RK800, but eventually stomped away towards the break-room. Connor turned his attention to you.

"Thanks for the help, Connor." You smiled, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

Usually, Connor would say something along the lines of ‘No thanks are necessary’ or ‘Gavin had no business talking to you like that’, but it was as if he was shutting down. The sweet smell of a alpha that had him so enraptured was coming from none other than you. While he had been temporarily distracted by detective Reed’s advances, he was now experiencing the euphoric aphrodisiac in full force. His temperature was skyrocketing, body locked in place like a frozen computer screen.

You looked up at him, confused and concerned. His cheeks were flushed and he had began panting.

“ Connor, are you alright?” You reached up to feel his forehead, a silly, human reaction. Still, he felt quite warm in the split second that your hand made contact before he jerked away with a sharp gasp, as if you had struck him. That seemed to have snapped him out of his trance.

“ Ex-excuse me, Y/n,” He spoke quickly before dashing off in the direction of the restrooms. Once inside, he locked himself in one of the stalls and began panting in honest, small moans escaping his lips. It had been an innocent touch, and yet, it sent electricity throughout his body. He felt dirty, perverted for his body taking such a kind gesture and tainting it. To make matters worse, even locked in the bathroom, he can still pick up your scent. His stress levels climbed as he tried to think of how he was going to get through today.

You, on the other hand, were worried. You had never seen Connor so shaken up. Sitting at your desk, you tried to work on your paperwork, but you were to distracted. Hank came over at that moment, having made a beeline for the coffee machine the second the duo entered the department.

“ Hey, kid, you seen Connor?”

“ Uh, yeah, he headed off towards the bathrooms.”

Hank gave you a puzzled look before uttering a ‘thanks’ under his breath and heading after his estranged partner.

You continued trying to think what could have caused Connor’s odd behavior. Being the detective you are, you thought to how he looked before he dashed off. His face was flushed, he was panting, and he was staring at you, his eyes wide. He also reacted abruptly to your touch. After a moment, it clicked.

“ The fuck you doin’ in here, Connor?” Hank heard the heavy breaths as he entered, but the second he spoke up, they were silenced. “Connor?” He knocked on the only closed stall.

“ I’m fine, l-lieutenant,” Connor cursed at himself internally for the way his voice wavered at the end.

“ Nuh-uh, yer not gettin’ out of this one, son. What’s up? You got a virus or somethin’?” Hank shifted on his feet, leaning against the divider.

“ I wish,” Connor whispered.

“ The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Hank’s gruff voice laced with concern.

Connor was silent for a moment, weighing his options. He could ignore the lieutenant and hope he goes away, but he knew Hank was far too stubborn to let it go that easily. He could tell him that he did, in fact, have a virus, which could allow him to go home, but again, Hank, being the concerned parent that he is, would only insist on trying to help him. He wished his third option was viable, to simply disappear so he wouldn’t have to deal with all this.

He opened the stall before burying his face in his hands.

“ I seem to be in heat, Lieutenant.”

Hank didn’t understand at first.

“ What, you mean yer over-heating? Maybe you should have tech-support look ya over.”

Connor would have laughed if he didn’t feel like deactivating right now.

“ No, Hank, I’ve… entered into my first mating cycle.” Connor dragged his hand from his face to his mouth, briefly looking up at Hank to see if he understood what he meant. The look of shock and minor disgust told him he did and he looked down at the floor tiles.

“ Jesus Christ.” Hank was at a loss for words. He knew it was possible, but he never thought it would happen to Connor. It just wasn’t something he thought about. He couldn’t help but feel like this was so far out of his comfort zone. It was obvious that Connor was in the same boat, lost and confused. It didn’t take a fuckin’ rocket scientist to figure out which side of the fence the kid was on. He heaved a sigh. “Alright, we are going to talk about this, and then I’m going to forget this ever happened.”

Connor looked back up, on the verge of tears. Between feeling like he was wound up too tightly and the burning embarrassment, he just wanted it all to stop.

“ Have you tried doing yer weird handshake with another android?” Connor gave him a look, “You know, that interfacing bullshit thing that you do.”

Connor thought for a moment. “I’m not close enough to any androids to be comfortable asking that.” He only ever hung out with the leaders of Jericho, and while he was sure that Marcus or Simon would agree, it would taint their friendship. Josh, to his knowledge, has never been with anyone, and he wouldn’t dare ask North.

Hank ran a hand down his face. “Well, I can’t have you working from a bathroom stall. Yer in no condition to be working today, why don’t you head home ‘til you figure out a plan?”

Connor looked mortified by the suggestion. “No! I can still do my job! I just need a moment to collect myself and-”

“ Son, it’s yer first time dealing with this shit. You clearly don’t know how and ya ain’t got an outlet.” God, he hated how the kid was looking at him, like a kicked puppy. “A lot of people take a couple days off during this time, and you sure as hell have enough sick days.” Connor continued to give him that look. Hank could feel himself caving. “Listen, if I get a case, I’ll call you.”

That seemed to satiate the distraught android enough for him to agree, nodding his head in response. Standing up, Hank patted him on the back as they exited the bathroom only to almost run into you.

“ Oh, uh… hey! I was wondering if I could talk to Connor for a minute.” Connor was, once again, locked in place. Hank looked between the two of you before he grimaced.

“ Yeah, I’ll be at my desk, pretending not to know what's goin’ on. See ya at home, Connor.”

You blushed harder, clearly understanding what Hank was implying. Before you could think of a counterattack, he had already walked off. You turned to talk to Connor only to catch him rushing down the hall towards the exit.

“ Hey!”

You ran after him, quickly catching up, not giving a damn about the other officers watching you. You grabbed a hold of his hand only for him to tear it away.

“ Y/n, please refrain from touching me.” He slowed down as he called for an automated taxi.

“ Then stop running from me! I want to talk to you!” Why did he have to be so damn frustrating?

“ I-I’m not running. I’m feeling unwell and I’m heading home.” He needed to get out of here before he did something he might regret. He had made it to the curb just as the taxi pulled up. As he climbed in, you jumped inside, landing on his lap. He was so stunned that he didn’t notice the door shut or the car beginning to move. Instead of moving to the empty seat next to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He sighed at the touch, momentarily forgetting his predicament. You leaned in, your whispers sending chills up his synthetic spine.

“ I couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little stressed today. I can fix that.” Your sultry words hit him like a tidal wave. Could you mean what he thinks you mean? Oh, he hopes it’s true, but he has to be sure.

“ Y/n,” He was proud he could still speak, “we’ve only just begun a romantic relationship. I do not wish to push you into something you are not ready for.”

You looked at him with first surprise before your eyes softened with affection.

“ While I appreciate it, I’ve wanted to do this with you for a long time,” You ran your hand down his cheek, tracing his jawline, “Are you alright with this?”

He looked at you like he was a mere mortal before a ethereal being. Any semblance of control he had completely crumbled at your confession. He leaned forward and took your lips into a hungry kiss.

“Yes,” He moaned between kisses, pulling you closer as he began grinding his hips against your ass, “Please, I need you.”

Damn, this man knew how to get you going.

You took control, turning his head so you could kiss him deeper. You pushed yourself harder against him, causing him to moan, taking the opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, his head spinning. Your tongue explored his mouth, claiming every crevice as yours. A particularly hard push of your hips caused him to tear away as a loud gasp left his lips and his own hips thrust upwards. You smirked before you began attacking his neck. Your hands ran up the back of his head, nails trailing through his hair. His own hands traveling your body, gripping, trying to ground himself in this newfound pleasure. It was so overwhelming, driving him wild. Just as you began undoing the buttons of his shirt, there was a ding and the door threw itself open.

“ We have reached your destination. Thank you for choosing Detroit’s automated taxi service.”

Connor grimaced at the thought of having to get out. It was clear he had forgotten where he was and had no qualms of being fucked in the back of the taxi. It truly showed how deeply he was affected by his heat. You couldn’t help but giggle as you untangled yourself from him, grabbing his arm and yanking him out before he could protest.

When you both made it to the door, you turned around and ran your hands down his chest, past his hips and gripped his ass. He groaned and attempted to return the sentiments but you abruptly pulled back, dangling a set of keys in front of his face.

“ While I’m sure you don’t mind, I would rather continue somewhere more… intimate.”

Your words seemed to snap him out of his heated haze. His hands went to adjust his tie only to find it hanging off his shoulders.

“ I apologize. I don’t seem to have any restraint.” You smiled as you turned and went to unlock the door. Connor had to make an effort not to stare at your ass, let alone not to reach out and pull you into him. His pants felt incredibly tight, the ache only feeling worse by the second.

You got the door open and cast him a look from behind, “Don’t worry, love, I’ll take good care of you.” You walked in, familiar with the layout of Hank’s home after helping the old lieutenant to bed after a few too many drinks. Connor trailed after you like a love struck puppy.

Once in Connor’s room, you couldn’t help but notice the tangled mess of sheets on the bed. Connor blanched when he realized he had forgotten to fix his bed. Wordlessly, he started fussing with the sheets, pulling off the blanket he had ruined and tossing it into a laundry basket by the door. Once the bed was ‘suitable’ he turned to face you only to realize that you had taken some of your own liberties. You had stripped yourself down, standing in a matching lace bra and panty set. He drank in the sight, hands clenching into fists as he fought the urge to touch.

“ It’s cute that you think the state of your bed matters,” You walked up to him, hands finally returning to undoing his shirt. You went to pull it out from his pants only for it to remain. After another attempt, it was clear that it wasn’t going to come loose. Connor was too distracted by the newly afforded skin at his disposal, running his hands along every curve, memorizing it in the utmost detail. He was obsessed with how your skin felt against his.

Growing impatient, you tugged his belt loose without warning and undid his jeans before shoving them to the floor. “F-fuck,” Connor groaned at the sudden release of pressure. It was then that you noticed why you couldn’t pull his shirt loose.

“ You wear shirt girders?” You chuckled, fingering the elastic. The small contact momentarily distracted him.

“ Yes, it allows maneuverability and efficiency without sacrificing my professional Appear-Ahh!” You had released the elastic, letting it snap against his thigh. A mixture of pain and pleasure rippled from the impact. He gripped your waist, the pressure was sure to leave bruises. You giggled again as you removed the girders, freeing his shirt in the process.

Taking a step back, you took in his appearance. His perfect build, milky skin with freckles scattered throughout. It was almost tempting to sit him down and count them all, maybe find the constellations that make up his beautiful galaxy. Another time, you tell yourself. Connor fidgeted in his spot, feeling slightly scandalized. Glancing further south, your breath was almost knocked out of you at the sight of his very obvious bulge though his black briefs. He was big, that was obvious. What Cyberlife thought they were doing, giving a detective such a large package, you had no clue, but you’ll be damned if you let it go to waste.

You smiled up at him, capturing his lips in another heated kiss before shoving him on the bed, a sharp noise of surprise leaving his perfect lips, making him lay up at the pillows as you came to rest between his legs. He tried to pull you up with him, but you batted his hands away. You palmed him through his underwear, earning a sharp moan. His briefs were soaked, making you lean forward to taste him. The sweetness threw you off for a moment, but it figures that Cyberlife would have thought of everything. Connor ran his hands through your hair, wanting to encourage you forward, but not having the experience to know how. Luckily, you knew enough for both of you as you removed the last barrier from your prize.

“ God, Connor, do you know how perfect you are?” You spoke reverently. His body tensed at your praise, cock twitching as you took him in your hand. You teasingly licked his tip, feeling his grip tighten as he thrust towards your face. You took it as a hint to take him into your mouth, going down as far as you can take him before bobbing back up, skilled tongue roaming his cock. He was at your mercy, nothing more than a panting and moaning mess. Your hand went to massage his balls and it was too much! His feet dug into the mattress as he fought the urge to cum down your throat.

“ Please, y/n… N-no more… I need you,” he spoke between whimpers and moans. You took pity and leaned back, removing your bra and panties. You straddled him again, rubbing yourself up and down his length. A moan escaped your lips at the friction you had denied yourself. You wanted nothing more than to take him and break him, but before you did, you needed to know one thing.

“ C-Connor, if we do this, you be-become mine as I become yours. You will be my omega, for me to care for!,” You slowed your motion so he could answer you. He panted as he gripped your hips, trying to slide you along himself once more.

“ I want no one else! Oh-only you, my perfect alpha!” He shouted to all that could hear. At his confession, you took him in, sinking down to the hilt. It was almost too much as you sat and adjusted to his size, his hands clawing at your thighs. You leaned forward, claiming his mouth. He couldn’t keep his mouth from falling open, panting and moaning unabashedly. You felt so, so good. He thrust his hips upward, testing the waters. You moaned and began moving, adding to the ecstasy.

You started off slow and deep, savoring the feeling of being filled. Connor ran his hands up your stomach to your breasts, feeling the tender flesh give under his grip. He ran his thumbs over your perked nips, the soft sigh spurring him on as he leaned up and took one into his mouth. You moaned as you held his head to your chest, starting to ride him harder, rougher. His hands traveled to your back as he clawed his way down, sure to leave marks.

“ You feel so fucking good! Such a good omega! Such a good boy!” You moaned, your words hitting him hard as he whimpered out your name. You shoved him back down into the mattress and bounced harder, like your life depended on it. His hips started to bounce up on their own accord, inching closer to release. As he hit your sweet spot, your face contorted in pleasure as you screamed his name. He made an effort to hit that spot every time, your voice like music to his ears. He threw his head back as he used his feet for leverage, thrusting up every time you came down. You took advantage of the angle and assaulted his neck once more, sucking and licking a path. Once you found his sweet spot again, you sunk your teeth in, breaking past his synthetic skin and disrupting the sensors. He groaned and you leaned back, grinding your hips together as you took in the white ring on his neck, thirium trickling from the wound.

“ Now everyone will know you’re mine,” Your voice dripped down on him like honey. His hips began to stutter in their rhythm.

“ Y-y/n, I’m close!” His system was reaching critical temperature, evident by the flush of his skin and the warm breaths from his panting mouth. You stole that heat with a final, sloppy kiss.

“ Yes, my omega, come for me! Show me what a good boy you are! God, I love you!” Your words sent him over the edge, coming hard after such a long build-up.

“ I love you, Alpha! I love you!” Connor groaned between teeth as wave after wave of euphoria washed over him. His confession mixed with the feeling of him filling you was enough to bring you to your end, gripping him tightly within, keeping him in place. Your combined fluids began to trickle out of you as it became too much, running down between his thighs. After a final thrust, his body went lax, no longer able to support him after being wound up for so long. You laid down against him, coming down from your own high. You both bathed in the afterglow, nothing but the sound of harsh breaths as you both tried to cool down. After a few minutes, Connor broke the silence.

“ Did you mean it?”

“ Mean what?” Your mind was still a little fried.

His voice was a little hesitant. “Do… do you love me?”

You turned to look into his eyes. In them was so much doubt. You returned the look with so much adoration that your words were almost unnecessary.

“ Yes, Connor, I love you.”

“ Even though I’m not a human?” ‘Even though I cannot match your needs like a human omega can?’ he thought, but couldn’t voice aloud. He knew from the beginning of your relationship what you would be giving up, but told himself that it wasn’t an immediate worry. It was something he could figure out once you both got to that point, but his own body betrayed him. Would you be alright, knowing he cannot give you a child. To know that you would not be able to start a family with him? The whole point of a heat cycle was to continue your lineage, but being with him meant you could never fulfill that role.

As his mind spun, you grabbed onto his face, pulling him to you in a slow, languid kiss.

“ I don’t care what you are, only who you are. I love you, Connor, and no human or android will do.” You pecked his lips as you rolled off him, pulling him against you as you held him. “I don’t need a kid to be happy when I have you, and if we decide to, there are many options we could choose from. I could never be happy with anyone else.”

He held you tightly, words sinking in and making him feel a different warmth from his still overheating systems. He threw his leg over yours and pulled you as close as possible, snuggling into your neck.

“ I love you too. The thought of you being with anyone else hurts. I will do whatever I can to keep you happy.”

“ Then stay with me.” You whispered.

Connor smiled against your skin as his body began to enter low power mode. He had never felt such a level of elation. “Until the end of time.”

Bonus:

Hank came home and instantly regretted it. He could hear you both before he even stepped inside. Sumo was asleep, completely oblivious. A quick look told Hank that Connor had stopped humping long enough to at least take care of the damn dog, fresh food and water available in the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to deal with this shit sober and looked down the hall. He could see a light on under the bathroom door.

“ Hey! Hey! Hey! Yer gonna run up my water bill! Fuck in yer own room, assholes!”

The sounds stopped instantly and after a minute, you came bursting out, clad in nothing but a towel.

“ Sorry, Lieutenant!” You shouted as you ran into Connor’s room, followed by a similarly dressed android, though less successfully, as the towel damn near fell off halfway down the hall.

“ Sorry, Hank!” Connor darted into his room, letting the towel fall before he was even fully in the bedroom.

“ Just keep it down! Some people have to work tomorrow! Fuckin’ disgusting kids.” He groaned in annoyance, running a hand down his face before downing his beer in record time. Grabbing a second beer, he turned to Sumo.

“ This is going to be a long week.”

Chapter Text

   There she was, hair a mess, face flushed, hauling in her latest catch. Her face stern, hardened eyes keeping vigilant on her suspect as she led him to the holding cell. He struggles in her grasp but she holds firm.

She is perfection.

"Hey, Connor, you plan to keep staring, or are you actually gonna do yer job?"

Connor snapped out of his reverie with a slight start, turning to the disgruntled lieutenant. A slight blush dusted his cheeks at being caught.

"I've already filled out my report and sent it to you for evaluation."

Hank did a quick look on his computer and eyed the notification.

"I'm sure there is something better you could be doin' instead of eye-fuckin' our colleague."

"I-I wasn't-"

"Yeah, sure you weren't." Hank scoffed.

Connor leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. It was clear that Hank was taking pleasure in teasing him. He knew of the deviant's feelings for you but agreed to keep quiet. Hank had told him on several occasions to 'just ask her out, it's not that fuckin' difficult', but it felt impossible.

Maybe... Maybe today could be different. You were likely to be in a good mood, seeing as though you had caught your suspect after searching for him all week. You might want to celebrate, share your story over a victory drink. He spotted you heading into the break room and checked Hank's coffee mug. It was almost empty. He stood with conviction. Yes, today will be the day. He reached for the cup.

"I'll go get you another cup of coffee."

"Hold it right there," Hank grabbed his cup and stared down at it, "there's still some left." He smirked as he slowly brought the cup to his lips, noisily slurping the remains as Connor stared at him in dismay. He stopped for a second, the android becoming hopeful, only to watch his face fall when he started sipping again. He decided to finally put him out of his misery and finished off the last few drops, releasing a large breath before handing the cup over to Connor. Practically ripping it out of his hands, the RK800 dashed off before Hank could say anything else.

"Hello, detective Y/n."

You turned around, having been staring at the vending machine for something to snack on before starting your reports. You smiled when you saw him.

Did you know how powerful your smile was? Did you know it could melt plastic and metal, liquifying his insides until he is nothing but a yearning mass of want and desire?

"Hey, Connor! What's up?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. He had a mission, and he couldn't let you distract him from it, even if you are his mission.

"Just grabbing the lieutenant some coffee."

"What, he can't get it himself?" You giggled.

"He could, but I had a moment and decided to 'stretch my legs', so to speak."

"I see, well, I'm just gonna stare at the vending machine for ten minutes until I choose what I always get, so don't mind me."

This was his chance.

"Actually, I was wondering..."

You stared at him, eyes sparkling, or was that a trick of the light? Was he actually bothering you? Keeping you away from your much needed nourishment after what was sure to have been a exhausting day? Perhaps now was not a good time.

"Did you happen to finish the report on the Jameson case?"

You blinked before sighing, smile faltering slightly. He knew he was bothering you, you were just being too polite to admit it.

"Uh, no, I haven't. I was about to start after I got something to eat."

"If you need some assistance, I can help."

"That's okay, Con, I got it. Thank you though."

"Of course. Have a nice day, detective."

"You too."

At that, he turned and left, thinking about what just happened and feeling like a failure. Even more so since he will have to go back and actually get Hank's coffee.
............................................................................

It was now the end of the week, and Connor was determined to ask you out today. He had attempted on four separate occasions, but each time he 'chickened out' as Hank had called it. After a long week of humiliation and ridicule, he was going to put a stop to it today. You were waiting for some files to be sent to your computer, spinning your pen atop your hand. He had taught you that trick after you observed him doing it. A warm, fluttery feeling erupted in his chest.

"Hello, detective Y/n."

You dropped the pen after flinching, startled.
"Hey, Connor! Scared me for a moment there."

"Sorry, that was not my intentions."

"It's alright. What can I do ya for?"

"Nothing important. You looked bored and I was hoping to remedy that."

"Well, you're right. I know it was a lot of footage, but this is getting ridiculous. I've been waiting half an hour already! At this rate, I'm going to miss my date."

What?

Connor tensed, though you didn't seem to notice, having bent down to pick up your fallen pen.

"Date?"

"Yeah, I'm supposed to meet him in a couple of hours, but if this takes any-," suddenly your computer dinged with an email alert, "ah, finally!"

Connor kept his face indifferent as he died on the inside. His throat closed up and it felt like his biocomponents were being pulled too tight, tearing him apart from thr inside. His thirium pump was stuck in a vice, being squeezed until it crumbled apart.

He had waited too long.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you. I wish you luck on your date."

"Thanks, Connor. See ya later!"

Is it wrong to wish you bad luck? That your date would be an awful waste of time? At the same time, he wanted you to be happy. You don't deserve to be mistreated. It was all so confusing and frustrating. He felt terrible. He had nobody to blame but himself, but knowing that didn't help matters. You still were out of his reach. If there is one thing he is certain of, it's that it would have been better to have been rejected than to wonder if there had ever been a possibility.

Hank was standing at his desk, hunting the mess of papers for his keys. When he noticed Connor walking up, he didn't bother to hide his smirk as he continued his search,

"You ready to head home, or you want another shot of embarrassing yerself before we go?"

"Leave me alone."

The old man looked up at the uncharacteristic answer. Getting a good look at the android, how distraught and crushed he looked, his grin fell, replaced with concern.

"Shit, she didn't reject you, did she?" Connor huffed out a breath and started to walk away.

"Please, Hank."

............................................................................

Hank was able to leave Connor alone for the whole drive home, even though he looked like absolute shit. He was even able to leave him alone for almost half an hour once they got home, even though he was moping on the couch, Sumo lying on top of him like a damn security blanket. But when he didn't even put up a fight when Hank ordered pizza for the second night in a row, he knew he needed to do something.

"Alright, kid, what happened?"

Connor turned his head away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, either you can start talking or I might just put on 'Marley and Me'."

Connor would have bolted up if it weren't for the 186lb dog on his back. It wasn't a bad film, it was actually quite enjoyable compared to some of Hank's other films,

until the end that is.

"She has a date."

Hank leaned back in the recliner. "Well, what did you really expect? Her to wait for you to pull yer head out of yer ass?"

Connor slowly began to sit up, forcing Sumo to crawl off the couch with a indignant huff.

"If this is your idea of helping, it's not working."

"I take it you didn't ask her out then."

The android threw his hands up in irritation. "How could I ask her if she already has a date?"

"You said she has a date, but I didn't hear you or her say nothin' about havin' a boyfriend or whatever."

Connor contemplated this for a moment. It was true, you never brought this up before, but it could mean you keep your personal life to yourself. Still, you had several photos on your desk of friends and family, including one of your cat, but no one that could be listed as your significant other.

"I'm not gonna tell ya what to do, but if I were you, I'd still ask. At least then I would know where I stand."
"I will... consider your advice."
............................................................................

The next day, Connor was surprised to see you at your desk. It should have been your day off.

"Detective Y/n, what are you doing here?"

"Mornin' Connor," you yawned. Something about how you talked when you were tired stirred him up, or it usually would, if he were not busy thinking of who might get to hear you speak like that first thing in the morning, curled up against you. "I didn't get to finish reviewing the surveillance cams last night, so I had to come in early today."

"That is unfortunate," Connor couldn't help but be curious, even if he hated himself for it, "How was your date?"

You shrugged your shoulders, "It was alright, nothing fancy, just dinner and a movie."

"Do you intend to go on another date?"

"Possibly. He wants to take me to a hockey game. I don't really like hockey, but I could just get snacks at the food stand."

Why would you subject yourself to something you did not like if you didn't have to? Unless...

Maybe you really like this guy.

"I just got a message from Hank. I better see what he wants. Good day, detective." Connor gave one of his less than perfect smiles before turning away.

"Hey, Con?"

He looked back at you as you bit your lower lip.

"You don't have to call me 'detective', you can just call me Y/n."

"Got it. Good day, Y/n."

"See ya, Con." You gave him a tired smile before returning to your work.

A part of him burns to ask you, despite knowing you are already dating someone. He does not wish to upset you or cause you discomfort either, making you choose.

What if you didn't choose him?

He wasn't built for this, to love. He was beginning to wish that he never felt it at all. What had started as a gentle warmth was now burning him from the inside out. At the same time, he felt so cold, ice replacing thirium in his veins.

The stress of it all made the day drag on. Every glance at you that had once brought him comfort now jabbed at his thirium powered heart. He tried to avoid looking, but he would do it subconsciously. For the first time, he was happy when it was time to clock out.

Hank was sitting in his recliner, reading one of his books when Connor walked in.

"How was work?"

Connor let his body drop into the couch, head thrown back as he stared at the ceiling.

"That good, huh?"

"Why would someone do something they don't want to do?"

"The fuck are you talkin' about?"
Connor turned his head to the old lieutenant.

"Y/n. She was at work today and she said her next date will be a hockey game, but she doesn't like hockey. Why would she go?"

"God dammit," Hank groaned, "because she's too fuckin' polite for her own good."

Hank watched as the android turned back to the ceiling and sighed.

"Kid, this is gettin' to be bullshit. I can't have you moping around here everyday. Either you ask her out, or I will."

"You are interested in her?"

"No, but I'd even hang out with Reed if it would get me away from your sorry lookin' ass for an afternoon."
............................................................................

The next time Connor talked to you was almost a week later when you approached him.

"Hey, Connor, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure." He turned to you from his desk, but after a quick glance around, you grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet.

"Not here," you muttered as you dragged him towards the evidence locker. Practically slapping the palm reader, you threw the door open and descended the stairs with him in tow.

While you could be quite forceful sometimes, you weren't normally this quiet. What could you possibly want to discuss? Before he could begin to speculate, you turned to him and spoke.

"Is something bothering you?"

"What?" There was a chill down his synthetic spine that settled like a rock in his stomach.

"You've been acting weird lately. Last week, you kept asking me about my work before offering to help and then this week you've been avoiding me. I even caught you scowling a couple times when you were looking in my direction. I thought we were friends, but if you got a problem with me-"

"No!" He interrupted, a little louder than he had intended, "I mean, I don't have any problems with you."

You stared, irritated, waiting for him to explain. He had been so focused on his inner turmoil, he didn't realize how he had been behaving around you.

All week, he couldn't bring himself to talk to you, as if everything was fine. Despite Hank's words, he was convinced you were dating the hockey guy because you really liked him. He couldn't handle the pain in his chest every time he so much as thought of you, and you were always on his mind.

Despite this, he didn't intend to upset or piss you off. How could he possibly explain his actions as of late? He stood there, watching as your patience dwindled to nothing.

"Fine," you scoffed, "don't tell me." You sharply turned, about to storm off when he grabbed your wrist.

"Wait," his eyes pleaded desperately for you to understand, he needed you to understand. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, voice modulator unable to form a single syllable.

"Connor, I don't have tim-"

"Why?" Your face scrunched up, clearly confused.

"Why what?"

"Why are you going on a date you know you won't like?"

You stared at him long and hard, looking for any signs that he was making a poor attempt at a joke. There was none.

"Are you fucking serious right now? That's what's bothering you? My love life?"

"So you love him?"

"What? No! I hardly know the guy!"

"Then why are you-"

"Why do you care?" You cut him off this time, tone sharp, "What is your sudden interest with what I'm doing?"

It was silent for just a moment.

"I'm always interested with what you're doing," he whispered.

Your eyes widened, all the anger gone in a instant. He refused to meet your eyes as his own conflicting emotions started to bubble to the surface, hands clenching into fists.

"Connor?"

Once the words started, he couldn't stop them from pouring out. There was no going back now.

"A few months ago, I noticed a change in how I felt around you. I assumed it was just a strong feeling of companionship as we had started to see each other outside of work. However, when I would go a while without seeing you, it was like something was pulling at my thirium pump, and it would get worse the longer I was apart from you. Only when I saw you would it stop, but only for a moment. If you smiled or laughed, it was like I had broken my programming all over again. I started to crave the feeling, needing more. My mind is plagued with thoughts of you. I began to wonder if you ever felt the same. I wanted you to feel it too.

"Hank told me what it was when he noticed how distracted I had become. He told me that I should try asking you on a date, and I did try, but as soon as I knew what the feeling was, I began to feel fear. I couldn't handle the thought that everything I'm feeling was one-sided. If you didn't know, I could at least live in the lie that you could feel the same.

"Then, you told me you were going out with someone else and l felt like I was going to shut down, everything was-was breaking and I... I couldn't..." he was shaking, shuddering over his words.

Your hands flew to his face, trying to ground him. His own gripped your wrists.

"Breathe Connor," taking deliberately slow breaths for him to match. He didn't bother to tell you he didn't need to breathe, focusing on the action rather than the purpose. After a short time, his stress level stabilized.

"I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say.

A small noise escaped your throat, then another, before long you were in hysterics. Connor watched on, both alarmed and in agony.

"Please, don't laugh."

"I'm-I'm sorry! I'm not laughing at you, I promise," your fit subsided, giggling a few times. "I'm just... I can't believe it. The only reason I agreed to the date was because I was trying to forget about you."

Connor could have collapsed at your words, legs threatening to give out.

"I didn't think you would want to be with a human, let alone with me, so when a friend of mine set me up, I figured it was better than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself." Your thumb started to caress his cheek, "That didn't stop me from wishing I was with you instead of him."

It felt as if a great weight had been lifted off him. He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours. You made a soft noise in surprise before you smiled and kissed him back.

Connor had never felt anything like it, his mind filling with static as he lost himself in your touch. All the loneliness and longing he had subjected himself to was erased, replaced with a happiness he could only compare to the day he won his freedom.

You pulled away, giggling as he unconsciously chased your lips.

"Easy there, tiger. Let's take this nice and slow," you beamed up at him, a smile that he matched.

"Would you care to accompany me tomorrow on a date?"

You gave him a sly look, "I don't know, I've been looking forward to seeing this hockey game."

"We could do that, or we could go to the aquarium."

"Aquarium? Hot damn! Now you're speaking my language!" You laughed as you looped your arm around his, heading back to work. At the top of the stairs, Gavin opened the door.

"The fuck are you two doing down there?"

Before Connor could say anything you answered.

"Hardcore exhibitionism."

Connor would have felt embarrassed if he wasn't satisfied by the look of disgust written on the detective's features.

"Figures you'd be an android fucker," Gavin descended the stairs, knocking Connor in the shoulder as he walked past.

"Whatever! Bye, Felicia!"

Connor looked at you, baffled.

"It's from a movie, I'll show you sometime. Now, if you excuse me, I have a date to cancel." Kissing him on the cheek before turning the corner.

Connor watched you until you were out of sight. The ache that usually arose at your disappearance was replaced with a warm comfort. He couldn't stop smiling as he made his way back to his desk.

"It's about fuckin' time," Connor looked over to Hank, grinning as he shook his head. Connor could feel a heat settling on his cheeks. "Though, you look goofy as fuck smiling like that."

"Hank," Connor regarded his father-figure with a calm demeanor, "Shut up."

Chapter Text

   It has been over seven months since the successful android revolution. The previous deviants now had basic rights, police protection, getting paid for work, and what have you, and were well on their way to having all the rights they deserve. It still felt like just yesterday Connor and his father, Hank, were assigned a female android by the name of Y/n, sent by Cyberlife to investigate deviant cases.

He, like his father, hated her the second they saw her. Still, she proved she was more than just a hunk of plastic, getting results and impressing Connor with her dedication, something that had been lacking at the department.

Hank was a little harder to win over, but when she saved his life, twice, Connor could tell that something had changed in his old man, a spark that had been missing starting to re-ignite.

What they didn't know was the internal conflict that she battled with every time she had to choose between what she thought was right and what needed to be done to accomplish her mission. She chose Hank over the deviant when it tried to knock Hank off the roof. She chose not to shoot the Tracis, even though they all knew she could. It became obvious that she was struggling when she chose not to shoot Chloe when they went to Kamski's. She was breaking down, but Connor helped put her back together. He reassured her that her choices were correct. 

When she left for Jericho, Connor didn't realize how worried he was for her, to the point where when she turned up at his door, asking him to help her at Cyberlife tower, he didn't question it, even though he should have noticed she was walking stiffer, and back to talking in that 'matter of fact' tone. It wasn't until she pulled a gun on him that it clicked. When he saw the real Y/n, he felt stupid for having mistaken the other for her.

The fake used him as leverage, him or the revolution, and, to his surprise, she chose him. Connor distracted the imposter long enough for Y/n to get the upper hand, but in the scuffle that followed, he lost track of who was who. Through a series of questions, Connor could see the humanity that shined in one and not the other. His aim was true when he took out the fake, though it still hurt, watching something with her face drop from the hole in it's skull that he caused. He still has nightmares of what could have been had he been wrong.

They agreed to meet at Chicken Feed after it was all over and he watched as she turned the tides on the revolution. Him and Hank met her in the early morning, him practically mowing her over with the force of the hug he gave her, so happy that she was safe. Hank joined in and embraced them both and everything seemed like it was looking up.

It wasn't until Connor had caught her sneaking into an abandoned building a week later that he learned the truth.

Why didn't he ask her if she had anywhere to stay?

Apparently she was caught pointing a gun at their leader and they believed her to be a double agent for Cyberlife. While she explained her actions to Markus, and he promised her that she would always be welcome, the others were not so forgiving, and she didn't feel like she deserved their forgiveness anyway. She wondered the streets, trying to help those she could while witnessing the carnage she felt she could have prevented.

Hank had been the one to offer her a home. The old man sees her like the daughter he never had, and little by little both men helped her to accept who she is and forgive herself for the mistakes of her past. They still had a way to go, but she was able to live a normal life. She was hired back on at the DPD in the new year, much to her elation, and has made herself a valuable asset to the team.

During this time, Connor was struggling with his own feelings. He watched her become more human, day by day, opening up more. She smiled, where before she almost never did. She practically jumped up and down when they went to the pet store for the first time to get food for Sumo. She loved all the animals, watching them like they were the most interesting thing, even the tortoise who just sat there and stared back. Connor could say he was jealous of all the attention she gave them. Seeing this side of her, the side she keeps from work, it warmed Connor, his heart fluttering in his chest like a bird trying to escape it's cage. He'd never felt this feeling before, but knew exactly what it was.

It took him almost a month to gather up the courage to ask her out, convinced that she would decline. After all, why would she want to be with a workaholic burn-out? Would she even want to be with a human?

Despite his worries, she said yes. At first, he thought she misunderstood, still so new to human emotions. She acted as she always did when they hung out. On the third date, he had to know how she saw him.

She had kissed him.

It was clear she was inexperienced, but she made up for it in charisma.

For him, it was perfect.

It was strange getting the 'protective dad' talk from his own father, but Hank didn't want to see the girl hurt, especially from his own son. If you had told him last year that his own flesh and blood was going out with an android, he would have dismantled it himself and possibly disowned his son. Now, he couldn't be happier for them.

A month ago, Connor asked her to move in with him. It was going great. She had started to learn to cook, knowing how often Connor would skip meals. She wasn't very good, she was never meant for domestic work, but he appreciates it and never complained. He cut back on smoking with her help, going from a pack to two cigarettes a day. She got an update that allowed her to simulate sleep. She would curl herself against him, tracing invisible patterns on his skin until he fell asleep. He often woke up before her, watching as she slept peacefully in his arms, never wanting her to leave.

He could live like this, with her, forever, if he wasn't so fucking human.

He wasn't sure, but it felt as if her touches were becoming more deliberate, trailing over sensitive skin and leaving him trembling. With it being Summer now, she was wearing more revealing clothing. When she had caught him staring a little too long at the shorts (if you could call them that) that she was wearing, she stated that she didn't wish to overheat. Then, starting this week, she started wearing his shirts to bed. She was driving him crazy, and doing it effortlessly.

Today, she went shopping with Tina. She loved bargain shopping and 'customizing' her appearance. She left wearing a tantalising sun dress that Connor just wanted to tear into. He wasn't going to push his urges onto her. She was too important to him and the last thing he wanted her to think is that he just wanted her for her body. Now that he was alone, however, he wasn't going to deny himself any longer.

He stripped and lied down on her side of the bed, the scent of her conditioner clinging to her pillow. His cock throbbed as he imagined her here, touching him with her delicate fingers. He took hold of himself and began stroking, starting off slow. Connor began to wonder what this would look like to you. Would you be disgusted? Indifferent? Curious?

Maybe... Maybe you would like what you saw.

He picked up his speed, moaning out her name as he twisted his wrist just right. Hips bucking up, thrusting into his hand.

"Connor?"

His eyes snapped open. He didn't even realize he had shut them. Sitting up quickly he saw Y/n, standing at the bedroom door. He quickly covered himself with a pillow, cheeks blazing as he looked away.

"I... I thought you were out shopping," he panted out.

He could feel her eyes burning into him.

"Tina sprained her ankle so I escorted her home. I heard you call my name when I entered the house. It sounded like you were in distress."

He kept silent, wishing she would stop staring.

"Do you not find me sexually attractive?"

Connor shot his head up, eyes wide. She was still staring, but she looked so unsure.

"Of course I do."

Her head dipped down. "Then why don't you want to have sex with me? I've tried switching to more salacious outfits, wearing your shirts in hopes that your more possessive nature would find it appealing. I even tried stimulating your erogenous zones to illicit a reaction."

Connor was speechless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.
"I-I didn't want to push you into it."

She tilted her head, something she did when she was confused.
"Isn't that what couples do when they live together?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then what is the issue?"

"You're important to me," Connor huffed, "I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do."

It was quiet for a moment.

"I want to." She spoke softly.

"What?"

"I... want to. You are important to me as well, and you're always taking care of me. I wish to show my appreciation."

She walked up to him, standing next to the bed. She gently took his shaking hands and placed them on her thighs, just under the hem of her dress, slowly guiding them up. He slipped the dress over her head, leaving her in a strapless bra and underwear. Holy shit, this girl is perfect. He pulled her onto the bed, rolling until she was under him. He pressed his lips to hers, slipping his tongue in. A hand tangled into her hair while the other ran underneath her and unsnapped her bra, pulling it off. She mewled, much to both their surprise, when his thumb grazed over one of her nipples.

"You can feel that?"

She nodded, "I got an upgrade a cou-ahh-couple weeks ago-ohh," she moaned and gasped as he continued his assault on her newly sensitive buds, nibbling on her neck. He was thrilled that it wasn't as one sided as he had assumed. He made it his mission to learn her body, to keep her clinging to him as she made those beautiful sounds, a song only for him."I wa-wanted to pleasure you, b-but I didn't haa-haave the component. I-it came with mmnnn taah-touch sensors."

He pulled back to look at her, confused.

"What component?"

She gave him a deadpan look, raising one eyebrow.

"Oh." He was certain that if he wasn't already flushed, he was now as she giggled at him before pulling him back down, lips locking as tongues danced with one another. Curious, he trailed his hand down her stomach, slipping under her panties and parting her folds. Her back arched as she keened, the sound spurring him on. She already felt so slick as he slipped one finger in.

"Th-there is... No need... T-to prep me."

Connor added another finger as she gasped.

"Maybe not, and I don't want to brag, but I'm a good size. I'd hate to break your new component." He smirked as she lightly slapped his shoulder.

She was starting to grind her hips down onto his hand, body begging for more friction. He added a third finger and used his thumb to caress her clit. Her moans intensified, the sounds travelling straight to his cock. His name fell from her lips like a prayer to her own personal god. He felt her walls start to pulse around his fingers and pulled out, much to her distaste.

He continued to smirk as he mimicked her, tasting her the same way she analysed evidence at crime scenes. There was a surprising lack of taste, just a slight sweetness at the back of his tongue. Still, he cleaned his fingers, enjoying the frustrated pout she gave him.

Deciding he had teased her enough, and needing to relieve his own ache, he stripped her of the final barrier. Lining himself up at her entrance, he groaned when he rubbed the head of his cock against her.

"Are you sure you want this? I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to stop after this point."

She smiled as she wrapped her legs around his waist and roughly pulled him into her in one swift, calculated motion. They moaned in unison, Connor almost collapsing at the sudden sensation. She was so hot, stretched tightly around his length. They stayed still as they both adjusted to the feeling before Connor pulled back slightly only to plunge back in.

Her new sensors seemed to activate all at once, a sensation that she was beginning to crave. As he set a steady speed, she would rise up to meet him, getting him that little bit deeper.

"S-shit! You're so tight!" He groaned. At this rate, he wasn't going to last very long. He sped up his thrusts, enjoying the way she cried out for him. Her hands clawed at his back, sure to leave marks.

"C-Connor! You feel Ahh! Ahhmazing! Please don't stop!"

He reached between them and found her clit again, abusing it between his fingers as she writhed beneath him. Grabbing one of her legs, he turned her onto her side. He gripped her thigh as leverage, sure that he would have left bruises if she was human. The new angle allowed him to push deeper into her, cock filling her completely when he bottomed out. Every time he hit the back of her, she would clench down on him, practically screaming his name.

"I'm Ahh-Ahpproching orgasm!" He winced at her choice of words. We'll have to work on her dirty talk.

"Coming, Love, you're coming. I'm c-close too." She mewled at his pet name. He sped up, thrusting as fast as he could. Suddenly, he felt her vibrate around him, making him falter as he fell forward.

"Shit! Fuck! Y/n!"

He picked himself back up as he recovered from the initial shock, trying to maintain speed. She screamed out his name as she came, compressing his entire length within her convulsing heat. He couldn't think of a more beautiful sight then her coming undone underneath him. After a couple more thrusts, his own peak hit hard, burying himself as deep as he could as he spilled inside her.

She continued to vibrate around him, causing him to grip her thigh like it was his lifeline as he bucked and thrashed against her, not wanting to leave her warmth just yet but feeling overstimulated. The vibrations intensified and he suddenly came again. He didn't even know he was that close, biting her inner thigh as his body jerked, filling her even more. The vibrations suddenly stopped and Connor dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, panting and gasping for air. Her breaths were already evening out.

"Too much?" She asked innocently.

He huffed out a laugh. Gathering what little strength he had left, he picked himself up and slid out of her with a grunt before throwing himself onto his back next to her. Reaching for his nightstand, Connor managed to grab his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He put one in his mouth but his hand wouldn't stop shaking. Sighing, she took the lighter from him, debating whether or not she should feed his habit. Unfortunately, no human or android could resist his puppy eyes, silently pleading with her before she caved, lighting his cigarette then tossing the lighter back at him. As he inhaled, he felt a sense of euphoria set in, basking in the afterglow. Y/n tried to climb out of bed but he was quick to grab her and pull her back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To clean up."

"Stay with me for a little longer."

They both knew she could fight her way out of his hold with ease if she wanted to. Instead, she relaxed as he wrapped her in his arms, nestled under his neck. He took one last puff before putting his cigarette out, half still remained in the ashtray.
She started tracing over his collarbone.

"I don't know why you were worried, that was fun."

He scoffed, "yeah, it was."

"My favorite part was when you started twitching. It felt so good, I couldn't help but make you do it again."

Connor felt his cock pulse painfully at the sinful connotation of your innocent words. Gritting his teeth as the raw spark of pleasure traveled throughout his sensitive nerves.

"You keep that up, and you just might kill me."

"It would be interesting explaining that to Hank."

You both shared a laugh, the atmosphere feeling warm and light. Sleep started to set in. He kissed the top of her head, caressing her hair as he began to drift off, "I love you."

She sat up, smiling as she gave him a peck on the lips, "I love you, too."

Chapter Text

It started with the nausea. You woke up one morning feeling terrible before eventually emptying your stomach contents into the toilet. You figured it was just the flu or something you ate that didn't agree with you, so when Connor offered to take you to the doctor, you declined.

"I'll just... take today off and rest."

Your words did nothing to placate your fiancee's worries, but he said nothing more as he rubbed your back when you violently gagged. After an hour or so, you were starting to feel better. Still, you took the day anyway as a precaution. Connor offered to stay to help you, but one person out of work is plenty. That didn't stop him from coming home on his lunch break to check on you, even making you a light lunch.

The nausea didn't stop. It would happen at random times, or when you caught a particular smell. While sometimes you could get past it, most of the time Connor would watch as you made your way to the nearest restroom as discretely as possible, following after you when he could.

You started sleeping more. Waking you for work had always been a hassle, but you usually were up and motivated after a half hour or so. Now, it was like you were never fully awake, even falling asleep at your desk a few times and being reprimanded by Captain Fowler.

When you flew off the handle after Connor had accidentally bumped into you getting up from the couch, he knew something wasn't right. You weren't the most mild mannered person he knew, your 'spit-fire' personality a trait he's come to love, but you rarely snapped at him.

Connor had promised you that he wouldn't scan you unless it was a life or death situation. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate it, you just didn't like knowing he could see your inner workings. He didn't want to break your trust, but your behavior could be indicative of an underlying illness that could be potentially fatal if left unchecked, and you still refused to go to the hospital. While you were sleeping, he performed the scan.

There, within your womb, was the early stages of another life.

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment. Panic tried to make itself known as he stares at the almost unidentifiable mass in your lower abdomen. The scan supplied that you were about five weeks pregnant. Going back through his memory, he recalled it to be a relatively busy week for you. There had been an influx of anti-android gang activity, and as the head emergency android technician, you were sent out to assist any injured androids. Connor and Hank still had their own duties in homicide, but it was slow moving, so Connor actually beat you home several times. He also noted an increase in your libido, using free time to engage him in sexual acts rather than catching up on rest. While he had pointed this out, you complained you were too worked up to sleep.

Had you been so lascivious that you found another partner while he was not around? Was he not enough for you? Under normal circumstances, he would have never questioned your love and devotion, but the evidence was right there for him to see. A child he could not produce.

Was that it? Did your basic human nature outweigh your fealty to him? He could swear his love to the stars and back, but it would never be enough to procreate.

Connor's processors were overtaxed, conflicting with one another. Possibilities and other statistics popping up as he tried to prove that what he saw was wrong, or some logical explanation that could explain any other way you could have became pregnant.

He couldn't explain it. You had slept with another man.

He felt like shouting, screaming as rage roiled around his body faster than thirium. He wanted to cry, the pain of being cast aside threatened to drop him to his knees. It was this kind of pain that makes Connor understand why androids are not supposed to feel, supposed to be incapable of it.

He can't bring himself to lie back down with you, as if he wasn't just a replaceable body for you to use. He stumbles to the living room, clipping his shoulder on the bedroom door as he exits. He couldn't see past the warnings in his vision, telling him he was overheating and needs to lower his stress level. Times like these, you were always there to ground him, but now you were the reason for his downward spiral.

You woke up, hearing movement throughout the bedroom. Feeling next to you, you noticed that Connor was no longer there. Slowly clambering out of bed, you looked to the time on the nightstand. 1:38am. There was the familiar queasiness sitting in the background. At this point, there wasn't much left in your poor stomach. It was becoming a problem to eat anything and keeping it down. Perhaps Connor was right, maybe you should make an appointment to get this checked out.

Your head swam as you stood, almost dropping you to the ground before your vision returned. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you made your way out the bedroom in search of your future husband. You enjoyed addressing him as such, loving his flustered reaction. It was almost as nice as hearing him call you his future wife.

Seeing part of the living room bathed in red killed all feelings except panic.

"Connor! What's wrong?" The deviant was sitting on the couch, head in his hand over his eyes as his LED was a solid red. You rushed over but before you could make contact he flinched away. Collecting yourself, you got down on your knees in front of him,

"Connor? What's bothering you?"

It almost seemed like he wasn't going to answer you. When he did, it was a deep, cold voice rather than the rich honey he usually used when he spoke to you.

"You're pregnant."

You regarded him with a confounded look. Clearly you must have misheard him.

"What?"

He looked up. There was a storm in his ordinarily warm eyes, ice cold and sharp enough to pierce skin, and it terrified you.

"You're pregnant."

"T-that's not possible," your voice shook as he kept his eyes locked on you. Why was he acting like this? And why does he think you're pregnant?

"I scanned you while you were sleeping. You are pregnant."

A feeling of heartbreaking astonishment washed away some of the fear. "You scanned me? You promised me you wouldn't do that."

"Why? Worried I might have found out about your affair sooner?"

"Affair? I'm no-"

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me!" His words piercing harder than any bullet ever could. "You can't hide the evidence from me! It's right there!" He jabbed his finger towards your lower abdomen, you falling backwards onto your ass from the sudden motion. He was towering over you. Never have you felt this level of fear, especially not from your Connor.

"Am I not enough for you? Have I not given you everything that you ask of me?" He could see tears forming in your eyes, a part of him screaming at himself, begging him to stop.

His pleas fell on deaf ears as he seethed.

"Was I ever anything to you? Did you ever see me as more than a machine you could toy with, then toss aside when you're done?"

You tried to form words, deny his accusations, but he cut you off at every opportunity as you hiccupped and weeped. His hands shot out and gripped your upper arms, tight enough to leave marks as he gave you a rough shake.

"What am I to you!?!"

"I'M SCARED!!!" You shrieked. Like a cornered animal, you fought to get loose, kicking and scratching at him. Your petrified voice snapped him out of his acrimony. He let go as you shoved yourself as far away from him as you could, slamming into the far wall with a squeak.

What was wrong with him? How could he do such a thing to you? You, who had been his light for so long. You were shaking, harsh breaths as panic and fear smothered you.

"Y-Y/n... I-" he slowly reached out to you, but you recoiled before dashing off to the bedroom. He could hear the click of the lock as he fell to his knees. Even through the door he could hear your sharp gasps and deep sobs. The sounds tormented him as he broke down and cried.

At some point in the night, his stress levels hit 95% and he was forced into emergency low power mode, a setting he downloaded to deal with work stress. Only when his internal alarm told him it was time to get ready for work did he stir. He was still on his knees on the living room floor, tears dried and leaving a residue he could feel on his cheeks and chin.

Slowly standing, he looked down the hall. The bedroom door was shut, but you had stopped crying. He thought about knocking on the door and informing you of the time, of sitting down and having a proper discussion, even of apologizing. You might have broken his heart, but the pieces were still yours, and under no circumstances should he have hurt you the way that he did.

In the end, he knew he was the last person you wanted to see right now, so he got ready. For a moment he wondered what he was going to wear, his work clothes were in the closet of the bedroom, until he noticed a pair of jeans and a button-down folded neatly on the table, fresh socks tucked in his shoes. He almost broke down again. Even after what he put you though, you still snuck out and made sure he was taken care of. He got dressed with the weight of that thought in mind. It didn't make any sense. Nothing you did was indicative that you betrayed him. After a few more minutes of hesitation, he turned and left for work, leaving you alone.

You came in to work an hour late. You had make-up on, something you rarely bothered with. Somehow you had managed to cover up the bags under your eyes quite well, but the RK800 could still see them. To the unwitting eye, it would seem like you were fine, smiling and waving at fellow co-workers. Connor saw right through your facade, the fake smiles and forced laughs.

"Never would have pegged her as the 'sleeping around' type," Hank glanced over at you, to which you fake a smile before going back to talking with one of the android officers.

Hank wasn't as washed-up as Gavin might have people believing. He saw how you avoided Connor, practically running away from him when he ventured too close. Connor had already confessed to what happened last night, along with what was currently baking in your oven. While he sure as hell doesn't condone what Connor did, he understands where the kid's coming from.

You, however, he had known longer than Connor. There hadn't been any boyfriend or what have you before Connor as far as he knew. You hid insecurities behind high standards, and Connor had been the first one to see that. You wore thick armor to protect yourself, but Connor could see through you like glass, as you did him.

Hank thought he had never seen you happier, until Connor proposed a few months back. As soon as the law passed that recognized human/android marriages, the two of you would set a date. You had been so excited, and you showed off the deep blue crystal to anyone who ventured too close. A thirium diamond, made using some of Connor's own blue blood. Hank thought it was gross, but it did look nice.

The two of you were always clinging to each other, and when you weren't, you sure as hell always talked about the other all the damn time. You didn't fit the profile for a cheater, but that doesn't explain how you ended up pregnant.

"Could she have been raped?" Hank hated that it could be a possibility, but it wasn't off the table.

"Y/n is a capable person, even if someone had successfully assaulted her, she would have fought and therefore would of had bruises or scratch marks. There were only small bruises on her hips and one decent size bruise on her right thigh from hitting the corner of her desk."

"What were the small bruises from?"

"Me. I held her too tightly."

"You're fuckin' disgusting." Hank sneered. Suddenly, Hank snapped his head to something behind Connor. "What the fuck?"

Connor followed Hank's gaze and spotted four male androids, dressed in Cyberlife attire, standing in front of your office. They took six crates of bottled thirium while you talked to a female android, also dressed in a Cyberlife embroidered lab coat. You signed a document and handed over some papers before shaking her hand.

"The fuck was that all about?"

You looked over at Connor for the first time today, looking like you needed to say something, only to change your mind and head back into your office.

"You gonna see what she wants?" Hank eyed the RK800. 

Connor's gaze lingered where you had stood,

"...No. I believe I will only make things worse should I go to her. I think the best course is to wait until she approaches me." The android turned away and brought his focus to the list of reports on his terminal.

Days went by like this. While you were pretending everything was normal, Connor had thrown himself into his work, a habit he developed when he was unable to deal with his problems or emotions and needed a distraction. He was filling out reports like a mad man, scanning drone footage near crime scenes, analyzing evidence, all in an effort to hide from his problems. He could almost forget how much he misses holding you in his arms, seeing your smile, or listening to your heartbeat.

He could almost forget how much he loves you, and how much it fucking hurt.

He only went home to change his clothes. While he didn't sweat like humans did, working out in the field can be quite filthy. Every time he did, there would be fresh clothes sitting on the table in the kitchen, even a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt should he decide to stay.

He had hardly seen you at all during this time, only locking eyes with you once and it had been terrifying. The light that shined in your eyes was out completely, leaving behind an empty shell. He never thought he would see you like that, and he wishes he never did.

At night, sometimes, he would hear you crying behind the locked bedroom door, the sound like a knife to his heart. Any efforts made to rectify the situation, or at least discuss the next step for them, was met with silence. You refused to unlock the door and he couldn't scare you again by forcing his way in.

Sometimes he felt a sense of injustice. You had cheated on him, betrayed him, and now he feels the need to apologize to you? At these moments, he feels his worse, because he knows that rage he can't control is waiting for the perfect time to strike.

"I don't know what to do. She won't speak to me. I'm still angry about what she did, but at the same time I don't think I can handle this much longer."

Hank leaned back and scratched at his beard, "I don't know what to tell ya, son. This is one of those things you have to decide on yer own. It's a huge change, no matter..."
Hank looked up at the large newscreen, prompting Connor to tune in as well.

"...Cyberlife is recalling 190,000 bottles of thirium after several reports came in of pregnancy in human women after their android partner consumed the contaminated substance. It is believed that an experimental formula meant to help androids and humans conceive a child had been accidentally mass produced. Cyberlife is investigating the incident and asks any who might have been affected to report to a nearby Cyberlife hospital for further treatment..."

"Holy shit."

Connor turned to his partner, eyes wide as his breathing picked up, fast and shallow. He had been injured the week before you conceived, stabbed by a suspect trying to flee. It was minor, but you gave him some thirium to replenish what he lost. Then there were those androids the other day, carrying out all the thirium you had on hand. It all lined up with one another, which means...

"She didn't..." Connor couldn't finish his sentence, because the weight of those words crashed around him. It meant what he did to you was for nothing. The love of his life was now petrified of him, and it was all his fault.

He sprang up, chair falling over as he did. "I need to go talk to her. I need..."

"You need to calm down," Hank got up and rushed over, blocking Connor in as he picked up the fallen chair. Connor was pacing, trying to get past Hank. Other officers were starting to look on, but the lieutenant waved them off.

"All yer gonna do is scare her if you go marching in there looking like that."

At that, Connor sat back down. He focused on his breathing rather than the thoughts racing though his mind. Did this mean you were carrying his child? Was he going to be a father? Would you ever forgive him? Guilt and shame flooded his systems. It was him who had betrayed you.

"Why don't you go home early today? Clear your mind, think carefully about how you're going to handle the situation."

Connor looked up, as if to argue, before dropping his head and nodding. He got up without another word and made his way toward the exit. Hank took the opportunity to head towards your office.

"Hey, Y/n."

You looked up and flashed him one of your fake smiles. It didn't even reach your eyes.

"Hey, Hank, do you need something?"

He closed the door and your smile fell. Getting a good look at you, Hank could only think of one thing.

"You look like shit."

Your skin was pale and almost had a sickly hue to it. Your make-up was no longer able to hide the swollen, dark circles under your dull eyes. It seemed like you were going to puke at any second. He also couldn't be sure, but it looked like you lost weight.

You sighed, "Did you really come in here just to say that? If so, I don't need you to, I already know." You turned back to your computer.

"Actually, I came in here to talk to ya about Connor." You visibly tensed. "Did you happen to see the news report?"

"I didn't have to. Cyberlife came and replaced all the thirium I had stockpiled. They told me why and asked for a list of people who might have ingested it. They already know about me and Connor and informed me to go to a Cyberlife hospital. I haven't had time."

"Wait a minute, you knew for three days that Connor drank tainted thirium and didn't say anything?"

"Four nights ago he accused me of cheating and wouldn't even give me the benefit of defending myself. Why would it be different now? 'Hey, Connor, turns out I'm pregnant because you drank magic blue blood. We cool right?'" You turned to him, irritated, "And don't act all innocent. I seen the way you looked at me, like I somehow disappointed you. You know me a hell of a lot better than that, Hank!"

"What the hell did you expect me to think?Connor sure as fuck couldn't knock you up!" Hank growled.

"And yet, here we are." You spoke with a calm anger before doubling over, grabbing the trash can under your desk and heaving up a small amount of bile. The agitation left Hank as he went to help, but you swatted his hands away. "Fuck off." You choked out.

"When was the last time you ate somethin'?"

"I'm fine. You didn't care ten minutes ago, why start now?"

Hank didn't say anything. It was true. He knew you were pregnant, knew that you had been sick beforehand, and yet, not once did he ask since the fight how you were doing. He had viewed Connor as the victim without even meaning to. He didn't even ask if you wanted to press charges against Connor for harming you. Wasn't he a fucking cop?

"Shit, kid, I didn't-"

"It's fine, Hank, I get it, he's like a son to you."

"That don't make what he or I did right. Listen, if you don't feel safe around him, I can send an officer out to detain him."

You shook your head, "No, I can't exactly blame him for feeling how he felt, even if he was being an asshole. I would have thought the same. I'm not going to ruin his record like that."

"Well, if you want, he can stay at my place for a while. Least until you feel comfortable with being around 'im."

"As much as he scared me, I'm even more terrified at the prospect of being alone right now. People are not going to be happy about Cyberlife finding a way to breed their bots. It's another step towards evolution and to our extinction. I've already been alerted to several cases of women being attacked outside Cyberlife hospitals and because Connor is famous, many already know he's engaged to a human. I don't want to be alone right now."

"Alright, well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Even if you need a place to stay, my door is open."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." A message popped up on your computer about a domestic abuse case involving an android, asking for your assistance. These had been popping up a lot lately, especially before the announcement. You stood up, gripping the desk as you threatened to crumple to the floor. The headache you had developed left you blind with its searing pain. Hank again reached out, helping to keep you upright until your moment of dizziness passed.

"You need to go to the hospital."

You nodded as you hurried out, not really listening at this point. You had a job to do, and you weren't going to let Connor, Hank, or even the child in your stomach get in your way.

By the time your shift ended, you were exhausted and agitated. Your headache was only getting worse, unable to take any medication in case it affected the baby. You managed to eat some grapes, but who knows how long they will stay down.

Once at home you noticed that the lights were on. Connor had beat you home for the first time since this all started. Anxiety tried to surface but your irritation was quick to kill it. Walking through the door you were quick to notice the smell of food lingering in the air. Your stomach turned painfully, not ready for the next round of dry heaves. The second thing you noted was how immaculate the the place looked. You haven't felt much like cleaning and just said 'fuck it'.

Connor rounded the corner from the bathroom and froze when he saw you, LED flashing red before settling on yellow. With where he stood, he blocked the bedroom door, not that you really felt like going that way anyway. It was your house too, and you weren't going to keep hiding in your bedroom. Connor stayed where he was, afraid to scare you off again, as he spoke softly the words he had put together and memorized.

"I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I can understand if you never want to see me again." He paused, the thought that it might be a possibility painful. He drew in a breath to steady himself, "What I did was unforgivable. I questioned your love when you needed me the most, even going so far as to hurt you. If you do decide to forgive me, I promise I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, and I will never doubt you again."

In the back of your mind, you were happy he finally believed you. Here he was, asking for forgiveness, true remorse written on his face. You believed every word and wanted nothing more than for things to go back to normal, to be held in his arms and let him mend the hurt in your heart.

However, you were still tired and resentful, and the hurt you were feeling wanted to be known.

"What? Now that you saw it on the news you suddenly believe me?" Connor looked away in shame, biting his lower lip. "I get that this is an unusual circumstance, but I expected a little more faith in me than that. I shouldn't have to be afraid of what might happen if you get pissed off again!"

"You're right, you shouldn't, and I don't want you to be. I never want you to look at me again the way you did that night."

"And don't think I'm not still angry that you scanned me! You promised me, and you didn't even ask! And what the hell is that smell?"

Connor looked towards the kitchen, "I made dinner. I couldn't sit still and I figured you would want something to eat when you got home."

"Throw it away, it's making me sick!"

Connor looked both confused and hurt, "It's your favorite..."

"I don't want..." your throbbing head started to swim, the room spinning as you fell. Connor ran over and caught you.

"Y/n! What's wrong?" He noted your flushed skin, temperature running higher than usual. "I need to scan you to figure out what's wrong."

You sighed before you nodded, too tired to care at this point. A quick scan revealed you were extremely dehydrated and malnourished. Your heart rate was also much higher than usual.

Hoisting you up in his arms, he carried you to your car and set you down in the front passenger seat before climbing into the driver's side. He hesitated to which hospital he should take you to. Deciding on a Cyberlife ran hospital, he drove to the nearest one. You both needed answers.

You had fallen asleep almost immediately. He tried not to think about how he had let you get to this state. You might have been too stubborn for your own good, neglecting your health at a crucial time in your life, but had Connor not been so busy being pissed off and upset, you would have never reached this state. When he asked you to be his partner, he vowed to always take care of you. Now, as he pulled up, bold, red letters lit up a corner of his vision.

Mission Failed

He entered the lobby, you bundled in his arms. Two android nurses came up and preformed their own scan.

"Come this way, please." They led him to a small room with two beds, both of which were empty. The room had been fitted for humans, rather than the androids that usually came here. "Set her down on one of the beds and we'll start administering an IV drip." Connor did as he was told, watching as the two nurses worked on you. They set up the heart monitor and slipped a needle under your skin, allowing you the hydration and some of the nutrition you desperately needed.

"The drip will take approximately twenty minutes to finish administering. Once it's finished, Dr. Bower will do an examination and determine the next course of action. He will also inform you of what's going to happen and answer any questions you might have, along with listing all available options."

"Thank you," the nurse only smiled back before they both left, leaving him alone with you. Even asleep you looked to be in pain. Connor can only hope he made the right decision taking you here instead of a regular hospital.

When the revolution ended, Cyberlife was crumbling. Everyone thought for sure that they would be bankrupt before the year was out. If that happened, it would deal a huge blow to the already crumbling economy.

Then, Kamski stepped up and offered to be CEO again. Naturally, nobody refused and Kamski was able to turn things around. He started developing upgrades for androids and selling them on the market. He converted factories and previous storage buildings into android hospitals. While androids were weary to go to these places or get upgrades, they slowly got accustomed to it. Connor couldn't even begin to imagine what could have happened that would cause this accident when their reputation was hanging by a thread already.

You began to stir and Connor moved to sit in a chair next to your bed. He hesitated before gently taking your hand in his, feeling the ring resting on your third finger. Despite the situation, it still felt nice to feel your warmth again. He had missed it so much.

You begrudgingly opened your eyes, feeling an itch in your arm. You went to pick at it, but Connor knew you too well, holding your hand a little tighter.

"Don't."

"But it itches."

Connor could laugh at the normality of it all. If he wasn't so guilt-ridden, he just might have. Your pout has none of the enmity that your words held previously.

"This is my fault."

You groaned, "Dammit, Connor, stop that! I was the one who refused to go to the hospital before it got to this point. You even told me to." Despite your harsh words, you didn't pull your hand back. Instead, he felt your thumb sliding back and forth against his own. Your face softened.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about."

He put his head down. This was it. You were leaving him. He had failed you and you were done with him. He felt your fingers run through his hair. He turned his head and gazed at you. While you still looked so tired, you wore the softest smile he had ever seen from you.

"Silly man. I was talking about the baby."

"Oh." Right, of course. In the midst of everything, he had almost forgotten what had started it all. "Do you forgive me?"

"If you rub my shoulders when we get home."

He scoffed, "I think I can handle that."

"Then, yes, I forgive you." Your face hardened, "but if you EVER pull that shit again, I will shoot you."

"Understood."

Chapter Text

It was a quiet evening. The tv was playing soft jazz, the lights were dimmed, and a soft breeze was coming from the open window. It truly was a serene night, Connor reading a book while lounging on the couch in your shared home. Moments like these were few and far between, so the android made good use of them. He was certain you would have enjoyed the peace as well, but you had been dragged out for a bachelorette party. Your friend invited him as well, but only as the 'entertainment' to which you adamantly declined for him.

"What did she mean by that?"

"She wanted you to be one of the male strippers."

Connor paused as he looked up the definition. "One of them?"

"Yeah, it's traditional to have strippers at bachelor parties as a last hoorah before tying the knot. Seeing what you're missing out on sorta thing." Connor just looked more confused. "It's just one of those weird human things."

"And you would enjoy that?"

"Me? No. I got you for that. If she was giving me a choice, I wouldn't go. I just want to chill here with you tonight. I'll just have a drink or two and head home when she's too drunk to notice I left. Shouldn't take too long."

You left wearing a alluring blue blouse and black skirt. He wished he could save you from your fate, but you insisted he stay put.

"Only one of us should have to suffer."

He had hoped if you didn't arrive home too late, you both could unwind together, but when the clock chimed 11pm, he knew you would want nothing more than to climb into bed. At least, that's what he thought before you pulled up.

You stumbled in, your gait awkward, as you made your way to the couch. You looked dazed and your blouse was unbuttoned almost all the way, your lace bra exposed. You clambered into his lap, knocking his book out of his hands. He noticed how warm you felt, unusual considering it was a relatively cool night.

"Did you have fun?"

You shook your head. "No, it was not my kind of place. I spent most of it in the back. Then I started thinking about how nice it would be to be home, bouncing on your cock."

Connor was taken aback by your brash words. You weren't big on dirty talk, usually only something you did during particularly rigorous sessions. Not that he minded, of course. He loved hearing how good he can make you feel. You leaned forward and kissed him, wasting no time slipping your tongue past his pliant lips.

That's when he tasted it.

He pulled out of the kiss with a start.
"Did... Did you take illicit drugs while at the party?"

"Love, you know I'm not into that."

"I'm detecting traces of a very powerful aphrodisiac in your system, along with muscle relaxers."

"Really? That's so interesting..." you leaned forward to kiss him again, clearly not listening. He gently pushed you away.

"This is serious. Could someone have tampered with your drink?"

"I don't know," you pouted, "why does it matter?"

"We need to find out how this happened. Someone else could get hurt." He stood up,

"let's go to the station."

"I don't want to," you whined, "can't we do that tomorrow? Let's have some fun." You ran your hands down his body before gripping his ass, to which he grunted.

"We... have to go now. Your friends could be in danger."

"Fine," you drawled out, cementing the fact that you were not in the right state of mind. You were a very loyal friend who would jump up at the thought that a person you cared for could potentially be hurt. Connor practically had to drag you back into the car.

Once he had you situated, you were making it clear that this was not going to be an ordinary car ride. You kept running your hands up and down your body, moaning softly. He started the car and began the drive, only for you to reach for his crotch a few minutes later.

"No reason we can't have fun on the way there," it almost sounded innocent as you tried to unzip his pants.

"Y/n, I cannot allow you to distract me while I'm driving, therefore, I will disengage my touch receptors until we arrive at the station."

"Aww, boo!" Sure enough, no amount of massaging would make him spring to life, prompting you to sigh and return to your own body.

He hated turning off his receptors. It reminded him of before when he felt nothing both inside and out. Still, the risk for your life far outweighed his discomfort. It was still an alluring sight, watching as your hand disappeared under your skirt and you groaned, finally getting some friction you so desperately needed.

"Do you remember the name of the bar your friends were celebrating at?"

"Fuck, Connor, The Cherry Pit! Happy, now?"

It was increasingly clear that getting any answers from you in your compromised state would be like pulling teeth. You were far too engrossed in your drug-induced lust to care much for the outside world.

He parked and zipped up his pants before pulling you from the car. He couldn't ignore the wet sound as your hand slipped out of your skirt. He kept his focus on catching who did this to you and how he could stop them from doing it to another. Last thing he did was button up your blouse, much to your annoyance.

Entering the building, he figured the best course of action was keeping you in an enclosed, safe environment, both for your safety and any who might venture too close.

Connor had developed a possessive nature since the start of your relationship, and he couldn't blame you for being under the effects of such a powerful drug. Still, he wouldn't want to have to break someone's arm for touching you.

He knew that hardly anybody used Interrogation Room 3 since the recording systems were much older and tended to break down. He made his way, still dragging you along, trying to be as discrete as possible. Somehow, he pulled it off, only two officers noticed him, and they were on their way out for patrol. He unlocked the door and sat you down in one of the chairs.

"I'm going to go file a report. If I leave you here, will you stay put?"

"Only until I get bored."

"Please, don't make me have to handcuff you."

"Oh! Yes, please!" He could feel himself blushing.

"Just stay here. If you're good, maybe I'll give you a treat when we get home."

"Fiiine. It better be a damn good treat." You relaxed in the chair, legs spread farther than what would be considered 'lady-like'.

"Thank you. I'll be right back."

He turned and left, making sure the door shut behind him.

Running a more thorough analysis on your sample, he came up with the exact drug that was used.

"Officer Miller?"

The friendly cop turned to the android, "Oh, hey Connor. What are you doing here? Don't tell me Hank had you come back to finish his paperwork again, did he?"

"No, actually I need to file a report and request an enquiry."

"Really? What happened?"

"Y/n had her drink spiked with 'Nyphos' at a bar called 'The Cherry Pit'. There is currently a bachelorette party going on and I am concerned others could fall victim."

"Damn, is she okay? Nyphos are pretty hardcore."

"I'm keeping an eye on her to ensure there are no complications as the drug works through her system."

"Alright, I'll send it to Reed and Nines."

"Thank you."

"No problem. I'll need a statement from Y/n, once she comes down, of course."

"Of course, goodnight Chris."

"Goodnight. Good luck!"

Connor felt he was going to need it.

After a moment, he went to his desk and pulled up the security footage from the bar. Hacking into the system, he quickly scanned through it until he spotted a man in his late twenties, working as a bartender, slip something into a glass before handing it to you.

"Bingo." It's sad that you can't even trust your bartenders anymore.

He sent the image with the case file to Nines. While he didn't trust Reed, he knew Nines was more than capable of making the necessary arrests.
............................................................................

Sixty walked into the interrogation room, needing the case file left on the table. He liked using this room since nobody else used it, so he didn't have to worry about being hassled. Many officers and detectives still did not trust him and had no problem letting him know. Plus, it's not like he has to worry about faulty recording equipment, considering he is recording equipment.

He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you, cheeks flushed, eyes darkened and glazed over in lust, legs spread wide with your hand in your silk panties. It was a truly carnal sight, one he should not be seeing. He tried backing out of the room, but your voice made him pause.

"Wait, don't go," you moaned, standing from your chair, fingers soaked with your juices. You walked closer to him as he tried to back away. Eventually, you cornered him. "Don't you wanna have some fun?" You purred.

He looked down at you desperately. Of course he did, but you belonged to another, "I-I can't. You're Connor's."

"Connor doesn't want to play with me, but you will, won't you?" One hand started to palm his hardened cock through his jeans while the other brought your dripping fingers to his mouth, sticking one in for him to taste. It was heavenly. "Already so hard for me." He whined. He needed to get out of here. He needed this to stop feeling so fucking amazing. Where was Connor?

*C-Connor! Help me!

**Where are you?

*Interrogation Room 3! Oh rA9, Please hurry!

Shit. Connor forgot that Sixty regularly used that room as a refuge. Charging to the room he quickly unlocked the door and was met with Sixty, backed into a corner, hands flat against the walls as your hand stroked his now exposed cock. He violently trembled, bottom lip bleeding between his teeth, as he fought against your teasing. It sent a shiver down Connor's spine. He should be angry, or at least upset. Why was this turning him on?

"Y/n! Let him go!"

You turned your head, still playing with Sixty's throbbing length.

"Why? He likes it. I've seen the way he looks at us around the office. Staring at us with sweet puppy dog eyes, just begging for a taste. He's been wanting this for a while."

Connor stared, "Is that true?"

Sixty looked away, flushed, unable to deny your accusations. It was true, he had fallen for both of you. Connor, who stood at his side when nobody else would, and you, who had always treated him with kindness, even knowing what he had done in Cyberlife Tower. Both of you defended him every chance there was, making him feel safe. Including him in things, inviting him out. Hank was nice to him, but even he didn't show the care you two did. Without it, he's not sure he'd be able to survive being a deviant.

He often wondered what it would be like, to be part of the life you two shared. Laughing and joking about simple things that only the three of you would understand. Hanging out and having fun, or staying in and comforting each other. Being held for hours on end. To hear you moan his name. To feel Connor's touch on his body. RA9, how he wanted it, craved it, knowing he can't have it.

Connor's eyes widened. How had he not noticed? Despite this, he had to remember your welfare, so he addressed you, "You are under the influence. I cannot allow you to do something you will only come to regret."

"The only thing I will regret is not getting to come." Your skilled fingers moved to the top of Sixty's cock, using your thumb to apply pressure as you massaged the head. The broken moan that escaped his lips could have turned anyone on. "Why don't we take Sixty home with us, hmm? Have a little party of our own."

The look you both pinned him with, you, so scandalous and Sixty, so desperate, he felt himself pulse with wanton need. It was wrong, this was wrong, to take advantage of you in your compromised state. He had to stand firm.

"Y/n, please remove your hands from Sixty."

"Alright." You released him, and Sixty whined his objection. He had been so close. He'd do anything to feel you touch him again. "Sixty, why don't you tell him how much you want this?"

"I... I w-want it," he whimpered.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that. Don't you want to fuck me? Feel just how good I would be for you? Don't you want Connor to shove his cock in your tight little hole until you're full to the brim with him?"

"Mmhh... Y-yes, yes! Please! I need it!"

"You see that, Connor? He needs it, and so do I. Are you really going to leave us like this?"

How were you able to ensnare Sixty so tightly in your web of lust? Connor tried to weigh his options. It was clear that the drug you took was strongly affecting you, and whether he agreed or not, you were going to find some way to appease that need. At least if he took care of you, you would be safe. Sixty, however, was dragged into this mess by Connor's own carelessness. He had to take responsibility. It has nothing to do with those sweet sounds working their way out his throat, or the way he looked so fuckable.

"Fine, I'll meet you both in the car in five minutes."

You squealed out your excitement, running up and kissing Connor hard before turning back and tucking Sixty back into his pants. He whined, knees threatening to buckle. You took his hand and led him in the direction of the car park. Both men were wondering what the hell they have gotten themselves into.

Once at the car, you climbed in the backseat, expecting Sixty to sit with you. The android instead made his way to the passenger seat.

"Why are you up there?"

"Connor told me to. He said to be patient."

"I swear to god, that man is going to drive me insane tonight."

Sixty, himself, was quite uncomfortable. His pants felt entirely too tight and awkward. He wasn't as brazen as you were, already unbuttoning your blouse, so he kept trying to shift, hoping to find some minor relief. Should he tell you that this is his first sexual encounter? What if you wanted to stop? He felt so nervous, afraid of inadequacy, inexperience. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

"Hey, Sixty, you alright, sweetheart?" He liked that you gave him his own pet name. It made him feel all the more special, even if it was all an illusion. When he didn't answer right away, concern bled through your salacity.

"If you really don't want to do this, you don't have to. I may be horny as fuck right now, but I care about you." You placed your warm hand on his cheek, and he could feel himself melt into it. "I won't think any different of you if you decide to back out."

He sighed, "I do want this. I've thought about it so many times. It's just... I've never done anything like this before. I... I don't want to disappoint you or Connor."

A hand reached out and cupped Sixty's other cheek, pulling him to face Connor, who had slipped into the car while Sixty was talking. Connor kissed him. It was slow and passionate, a kiss that sent sparks throughout the other android. He moaned softly into the kiss before Connor back away reluctantly.

"You have nothing to worry about. We will take care of you, and should you wish to stop at any time, just let us know."

Sixty looked at his predecessor, dazed.
"Okay."

"Damn, I'm starting to feel left out." You chided.

Connor started pulling out of the station, "You won't for long."

During the whole ride home, both men watched and listened to you 'taking care' of yourself in the back. Despite your efforts, it wasn't enough to drive you over the edge, only further frustrating you. By the time you all arrived home, you would have let them take you on the front lawn. Connor, however, had other plans.

"Since this will be Sixty's first time, I think it's only fair we at least make it to the bed."

Sixty blushed, both embarrassed and feeling significant. Even if everything went back to normal when this was all over, he was going to savor the moment.

You, yourself, was quite excited. Never had you had two men wanting your attention. Even without the drug, it made you feel incredibly sexy.

Entering into the bedroom, you and Connor both started to undress Sixty. You pulled him down to your lips, starting slow, as you unbuttoned his shirt. Connor slipped it off him, his hands roaming his back and chest, lips and teeth nibbling on his neck and shoulder. He moaned into your mouth before you headed further south, running your tongue over his nipple. As he gasped, Connor pulled him back and entered his mouth, exploring every crevice of his double. There was so much, so many sensations, he didn't know what to do. Without any instruction, he was at a loss.

"Relax, we got you." Connor's voice whispered sweetly in his ear, making him quake with anticipation. You undid his pants before sliding them down his legs, along with his boxers. He felt so exposed, considering both you and Connor still had most of your clothes on.

Still, you sat him on the edge of the bed before crawling in between his legs, thumbs massaging his inner thighs, causing him to twitch. You took him into your mouth, savoring the sounds he made as you swiped your tongue along his tip. You started to bob your head, nice and slow, getting him used to the sensation.

Your own need was hitting a breaking point. You needed stimulation, running your legs together constantly. Connor was quick to comply, coming up behind you, slipping your shirt off before undoing your bra and removing it as well. He grinded against your ass while kneading your breasts. Your soft moans reverberated onto Sixty's cock.

"Aahh! You feel-feel so warm." Sixty couldn't keep quiet if he tried. He bucked into your mouth, and it was then that you noticed, you didn't gag. You took him deeper into your throat, moving up and down at a faster pace. You could only think that it was a result of the drugs.

Sixty was lost in the throws of ecstasy. His hands ran through your hair as he fucked into your mouth.

Connor was quite enjoying the show. Your mouth stretched on Sixty's cock, all the way to the hilt. He quickly removed his own clothes before kneeling back behind you. He pulled your skirt and panties down in one go, seeing just how soaked you were. He swiped his tongue across your clit, the tiny stimulation enough to make you keen. He lapped at you like a starving man, holding your hips in place with one hand while he inserted two fingers with ease. You were moaning constantly, Sixty's length down your throat. The vibrations were quickly becoming too much for the younger RK800.

"I-I'm so close. I'm gonna cum!" Without thinking, he gripped your head and forced you to take every inch of him as he came down your throat, pulsing as thick streams shot out.

Between that and Connor working you open, having slipped three fingers in, you were finally sent over the edge. Connor quickly pulled out of you, reaching over to Sixty to release your head. You pulled back, gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" You shushed him with another kiss, letting him taste the traces of himself on your tongue. You turned around and kissed Connor, tongues dancing to a familiar song. Sixty watched, mesmerized, the smacking sounds turning him on again.

Glancing down, he noticed Connor had yet to get off, his member dripping synthetic precum at a steady pace. He realized then that he really wanted a taste. Moving between the two of you, he licked from base to tip, earning a surprised groan. Encouraged by the sound, he mimicked what you had done to him, focusing on what felt really good. Breaking the kiss, you moved to behind Sixty.

"Let's get you ready to go, sweetheart." Fingering yourself for a moment, you took one of your lubricated fingers and eased it into his tight muscle. The results were instantaneous. He moaned wantonly, grinding back on your hand as you slipped in another finger.

Connor took hold of Sixty's face, making him look up into his lust filled eyes as he rocked his hips, quickly gaining speed. It's so strange that they could have the same face and yet look so different. Sixty looked so unsure, wanting to please him. He stared up at the man lovingly, the same expression you often shared. It was beautiful. With one final push, Connor stilled in the confines of his mouth, feeling as Sixty swallowed around him before slipping him out, licking the tip a few times.
You noticed Sixty trying to gain speed, grinding harder, trying to get your fingers deeper. Instead, you pulled out. He tried to grab your hand, but you moved onto the bed, legs spread as you reached for him.

Sixty leaned over you, cock bobbing in anticipation as he took one hand and aligned himself up with your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself in.

"Oh, Sixty!" You moaned in his ear. In all his fantasies, he never could have imagined how good you would feel around him. You were so tight and hot. He tried taking a minute to adjust to the feeling, but Connor wanted in. He crept up behind Sixty, taking him by the hips, and lined himself up with his hole before shoving himself in with one, fluid motion.

"Ahh-Aaaahhhh..." Sixty moaned as his body spasmed against yours. It felt so good. Too good.

"Coming already?" You felt his release buried deep inside you, hot and plentiful. "We're only just beginning."

At that, Connor started to thrust, starting off slow. The motion forced Sixty's cock, still hard despite just cumming, to move in and out of you. He writhed from the stimulation, synthetic saliva running down his chin, but being pinned between the two of you, he could only let Connor do as he pleased.
The thrashing only served to excite Connor more, speeding up his thrusts. Your moans mixed with the sound of slapping skin and the lewd wet noises coming from both you and Sixty.

"H-how do you feel, sweetheart, cock so deep in me, Connor... deep in you?" Your dirty words sounded so sweet, like honey to the two deviants.

"S-so gah-so good! Please! Please, don't stop!"

Connor started grinding against Sixty, looking for the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot.

He leaned to Sixty's neck, groaning his own sultry words.
"You want me to cum inside you? Make you take everything I give you?"

"Y-yes, I need it! Fill me with you cum!"

He found the spot and started pounding into him. Sixty could feel his legs turn to jelly, but he managed to gather the strength to match Connor's motions, hitting you just that little bit deeper. You threw your head back as you screamed out your pleasure. You came, gripping Sixty tightly as he kept fucking into you.

With a few more thrusts, Connor bit down on Sixty's shoulder as his cock spasmed, emptying himself into Sixty.

It was all too much, Sixty filled you once again, so much that overflowed, running down your thighs and onto the bedspread. He collapsed on top of you, panting out hot breaths against your neck. You kissed his temple as Connor eased out of him with a groan.

For a moment, the androids thought they were done. That is, until you rolled Sixty into his back.

"My turn."
............................................................................

It wasn't until the dawn that you finally collapsed in a heap, completely boneless. Never had you felt so full before. Connor pulled you close to him, knowing you would want to worry about the mess later. A shuffling on your other side made you look over. Sixty was stumbling, sore probably, trying to get dressed, cum still running down his legs.

"Where are you going?" You asked, drowsy.

"Home."

Connor sat up, "You don't wish to stay?"

Sixty looked down, tears threatening to spill. You tried to jump up, but your aching body dropped before you could move an inch. Connor got up and went to the other android, placing his hands on his shoulders.

"Of course, I wish to stay, but I don't belong. You two have each other. I'm in the way. I'm just happy I got to experience this with you both."

Even saying that, he couldn't look Connor in the eye. It was too painful to imagine the dismissal in them. He wants to remember how they looked at him while they shared each others bodies. He was needed and loved then.

"You don't seem very happy." You spoke, so softly. A whispered truth that hit too deep.

He broke down. Connor pulled him into his arms, hands wanting to run up and down his back only to remember the damage, minor, but stings none the less. Instead, he buried one through his hair, tucking his face in the crook of Connor's neck.

"I cannot speak for Y/n, but I wish for you to stay with us. You mean a lot to me, as does she. I think... I think we can make this work."

Sixty leaned back and looked up, eyes watery, trying to see any hint of a lie in Connor's soft brown hues. There was none.

"Do you mean it?"

Connor cupped his face, smiling softly, "Of course."

The two turned to you. You scoffed. "Did you guys forget who instigated this whole thing?"

"Well, yes," Connor started, "but you were under the influence of aphrodisiacs."

"All the easier to excuse my behavior should it not work out. I care about Sixty too, but I was unsure how you would take it. I didn't want you to think I love you less. I love you both."

That word made Sixty melt on the inside, tears springing to his face.

"You do?"

Your smile echoed Connor's, "Yes, now come here and let us love you."

Connor gave Sixty a quick peck on the lips before making his way back to you. The younger RK800 stood for a moment, watching the two of you get comfortable before climbing back into the bed, burying his face in your neck as you wrapped your noodle arms around him with a giggle.Connor stretched his arm across you, resting his hand on Sixty's waist.

"I love you, too," Sixty murmured against you, "both of you."

And with that, two became three, huddled close to keep the outside world away. Safe in each other's arms.

Chapter Text

It had taken you months to plan it all.

Actually, the planning was the easy part. Even getting the funds needed was not as painful as you thought it would be. No, the hardest part was keeping it a secret from your android boyfriend.

The man could read you like a book and had access to anything he needed to find out everything you did, done, or even thought to do. Couldn't even sneeze without him finding out. Not that he exercised these protocols, but he could if he deemed it necessary.

You did everything you could to cover your bases. It had been so exhausting that at this point, you would have rather he thought you were having an affair than what you were actually doing.

The hardest base to cover was Hank. Connor lived with the man, so if you didn't get him on your side, you were sunk. Luckily, while he didn't like it at first, he conceded when he knew how happy it would make his boy. The final month was easier as well, as Connor had gotten an experimental upgrade, forcing him to get regular check-ups weekly.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait.

August 15th
Activation day

Time worked different for the android in question. While the day marked his second year of being online, it also marked his first, and thankfully only, death, having thrown himself off a roof to save a little girl. He still couldn't handle heights as well as he would like.

Considering the events of his first year, he had been a deviant far longer than simply a machine. Only two months of his now twenty-four month life was he a 'thing'. Now, he had friends, a father, and even a girlfriend. Twenty-three months ago, he would have thought it absurd and would certainly send himself to be disassembled and examined for faults in his programming.

He would never have seen himself standing in the middle of the DPD, a party hat forced on his head, gifts piled on his desk as the whole force sang 'happy birthday' to him. Waiting as he blew out the candles on a cake made for him by said girlfriend. A cake he could now taste and eat thanks to a painstakingly long operation and optimisation process.

Hank sliced into the cake, taking a piece for himself and handing a second one to Connor. He could feel his girlfriend's eyes as he went to take his first bite. Matter of fact, everyone was secretly eyeing the android, waiting with baited breath for his first taste of real food. While a little nervous, he slowly brought the fork to his mouth, only to accidentally drop the piece back onto his plate. He heard you giggle before you took your own fork and stabbed the piece, holding it up to his mouth for him to take. The action only flustered him more, but he opened his mouth as he let you feed him.

It was good. Really good. His mind told him the flavor was labelled sweet, but he interpreted it as happiness solidified. Apparently his reaction pleased you as you beamed up at him. Officer Miller had his phone out, recording the android's reaction as Connor took his fork and shoved another bite into his mouth, humming at the flavors hitting his new tastebuds. Before he knew it, the piece of cake was gone, a light pout on his face at the realization.

"I take it you liked it?" She asked, still laughing at his reaction. Pulling you close, he killed two birds with one stone, silencing you while simultaneously thanking you. The taste he got was an added bonus. He was certain this was what android heaven would be like.Pulling back, you smiled, dazed at the heated kiss pushed upon you. You kissed his cheek.

"Happy birthday, my love," you whispered in his ear before walking back into your office.

While he knew he could not have an actual birthday, he learned last year that activation day was too much of a mouthful. He also kinda liked the association. It made him feel included.

Everyone else began to return to work, leaving the android to open all the gifts he received. There was a succulent garden from Tina, a light-up fidget spinner from Ben, a K-9 Unit bobble head dog from Chris, a framed photo of everyone, including himself, in the DPD from Fowler, and a trick pen from Gavin. Whether or not Gavin thought it could fool him or if he got it as a genuine gift remains to be seen.

Hank had gotten him a new tie clip, engraved with his initials. A forever reminder of the fact that he had been adopted officially by Hank, taking on his last name. A name, he hoped, you would share one day.

Interestingly enough, there was no gift from you. He could only assume that the cake was the gift, a gift he was more than happy to accept.

Then he heard it.

It was the unmistakable sound of a puppy.

It came from your office, followed by a shushing noise as the pup barked two more times. He itched to go investigate it, but everyone else was acting as if they didn't hear it.

"Lieutenant," Connor still used Hank's title at work out of a need for professionalism, "did you hear that?"

"No," Hank grinned, "and if you know what's good for ya, you didn't either."

Connor was taken aback by his words, a threat hidden in them. It only ate at his curiosity more. Heeding to the spoken words, however, he tried to focus back on his work.

You came up, struggling with a large, brightly colored box.

"Hey, Connor, I have someone here who has been dying to meet you." You had a soft smile on your face as you set the scrambling box at his feet. Before he could pull off the top, the box toppled to the side, lid popping off as a rather large puppy flopped out. While it wore a mini K-9 unit jacket, it looked like a miniature Sumo.

Recovering from its tumble with a shake of its head, it looked up at him like he was the first face it had ever seen, instantly waging it's tail and hopping around him. Connor tentatively bent down and picked up the dog, setting it in his lap. The dog licked his nose as it settled down on his chest. Connor was still in shock by the puppy, stroking its fur as if he didn't really believe it was there.

"You- I-... Is he mine?" He asked, voice small, like he expected it all to be a dream.

"No, he belongs to the pope. Of course he's yours!" You laughed.

He turned to Hank.

"You are okay with this?"

"Who the Hell do you think the father is? Yer girl pestered me for a week before I cracked."

"...It only took a week? It took me four months for you to allow me to drive your car outside of work."

Hank shrugged, "Guess yer girl is better than you."

You grinned devilishly, "I can be very persuasive."

"Annoying would have been the term I'd use." The grizzled lieutenant sighed.

It clicked after a moment what Hank said.
"Sumo is the father?" The pup looked to already be falling asleep on the warm android. He clearly takes after Sumo.

"Connor, yer reaching yer quota of dumbass questions for the day." The gruff words having no bite to them.

"I found a woman who owned a female St. Bernard online who agreed to let Sumo mate with her." You beamed.

He looked at you with eyes filled with wonder.
"How long have you been planning this?"

"Since your last birthday. Took me forever to find a female and even longer to plan a time when we could meet up without you noticing Sumo's absence. Hank was the one who thought of taking you on a father/son camping trip."

He remembered that trip. Hank practically had to drag him away from his desk to take his vacation days. He even rented a lakeside cabin. Connor wanted to bring Sumo, but Hank claimed the big baby was afraid of the woods.

"He's gonna need a name." You broke him of his thoughts as he looked down to the dog lightly snoring on his chest.

"How about SJ? He looks like Sumo."

"Not very creative." Hank grumbled. Connor looked slightly disheartened.

"Oh hush, SJ is a good name. Definitely better than Spot or Fluffball or something like that." You snapped. Connor smiled at your approval. He pulled you down for another quick kiss.

"I love him, and I love you." Suddenly there was a glint in Connor's eyes, "I'll have to show my appreciation properly later, perhaps at your place?" He winked, earning a blush as you chuckled nervously.

"Anything for the birthday boy," you reached into the box, "I love you too, by the way. Now, you might want to take him for a walk, he has been hidden in my office for four hours and he has the bladder the size of a pea." You produced a neon blue leash. Connor quickly took it and hooked the pooch. Once the pup was awake, Connor had to rush out as SJ tried to pee on everything they passed. He was tempted to stop when he started sniffing Gavin's desk, but thought better of it.

It was definitely a birthday to remember.

Chapter Text

"So, are you ready to be a father?"

That question rang throughout the android's mind. He had never thought about it before, it wasn't a possibility. You had never voiced wanting children either, so why would he consider it? Would he be able to care for a child the same as a human father could?

You looked like you didn't really expect an answer, turning your head to look at the IV in your arm with mild disdain. He could feel your fingers twitching to pick at it.

You must know, asking the question so the RK800 could grasp the actual weight of the situation. He had been so certain it wasn't his, he didn't think past what it meant to what it was. A living being, a child, that will need to be cared for, loved. It will need to learn right from wrong, how to live, much like he had not so long ago. Could he handle that responsibility when he was still so new to it himself?

"Remember, Connor, you're not alone," your soft voice broke through his apprehension. It amazed him when you did that. It was like you could read his mind, all his concerns laid bare to you alone. You synced with him as if you were another android, and it would break through his worries like lightning striking the earth. He gripped your hand tighter. It made the shame he still felt spike. He had almost lost this, almost lost you.

Before he could give you an answer, an older man entered the room. Connor performed a quick scan.

Jonathan Bower MD
Obstetrician-gynecologist
Born: 05/23/63
Criminal Record:
05/23/84 - Public Intoxication/Destruction of Property

"Hello, I'm Dr. Bower," the man extended his hand out first to you and then Connor, introducing yourselves as the two of you shook his hand, "I will be your doctor during the course of your pregnancy."

"So this is a legit thing? Not some pseudo baby?" Even though Connor can tell you otherwise, you had pondered the possibility of it being a false pregnancy.

"Yep, this is a completely legitimate child. A true medical marvel." Dr. Bower beamed, something about it rubbed you the wrong way. Nobody should be this cheerful.

"Your "medical marvel" almost cost us our marriage," you air-quoted, "care to explain?" You knew you were being bitchy, but false pleasantries felt impossible when you felt so terrible. Connor seemed to be at the end of his rope as well, as he scrutinized the doctor instead of chastising you for your rude behavior.

"Right, well," the doctor cleared his throat, "for decades, scientists have been working on methods for infertile men to be able to produce children of their own while also altering DNA in a way to prevent genetic diseases such as certain types of cancer. Thanks to Cyberlife, both fields have made massive strides.

"Using the research from both studies, along with their own technology, such as the nano-machines, Cyberlife was able to successfully breed test mice using fabricated DNA and sperm cells. Originally, the next step would be to test it on apes, but at the time, they were getting hit with complaints from ethics committees claiming that this was taking science too far, so all tests had been suspended."

"Sounds like somebody didn't get the memo," Connor spoke, happy to finally be able to piece the puzzle together.

"That is what Cyberlife is currently investigating."

"Ok, so how does this work? It's not like Connor went in specifically to get his own DNA made. Is it his kid, or some test subject?" The image of a grotesque rat/human baby flashed in your mind, and all you could think was kill it. Kill it with fire.

"I can say, without a doubt, that as long as he is your sole partner, then the baby is his." You breathed out a sigh of relief as Connor shifted back in his chair.

"Yes, Cyberlife has been fortunate in the fact that this experiment relies on timing. The number of pregnancies due to this accident has been low. The nano-machines take two days to compile a complete DNA profile of an Android using the data stored in their thirium, and another four days to construct both the DNA and the immature sperm cell, along with another twelve hours for a process called meiosis to half the chromosomes from 46 to 23.

"From there, it will have only twelve hours to transfer from the android to the human host before the nano-machine loses power. If the female is ovulating, the nano-machine will inject the immature sperm cell directly into the egg, if not, the machine will shut down and be passed with the next menstruation."

You leaned back, processing. Connor seemed to have a better grasp, unsurprisingly, face twisted into contemplation.

"If that is the case, wouldn't I have detected the impurities when I drank the thirium?" The doctor looked confused. Realizing why, Connor went on to clarify, "I'm a detective android with forensic sensors located on my tongue."

"Is that right? Well, these machines are a secret prototype of Cyberlife, and as such, Cyberlife likely made them undetectable in case they ended up in the wrong hands."

"Likely?" You gave the doc a dubious look.

"I can only speculate. I'll be honest, I know very little about androids. I've only recently been hired on for the care of pregnant patients. They told me how this all worked, at least, as much as needed so I could placate the patients, and ask that I care for them as I would any others that would have come to my own practice. I've never been one to discriminate, a child is a child, no matter where it comes from."

"I imagine the payload that Cyberlife is giving you also helps," you smirked. Dr. Bower cleared his throat again.

"It certainly doesn't hurt." He returned your grin with a wink before looking at his datapad, "Well, in any case, you are in need of treatment. The chart here states that you are experiencing symptoms of dehydration and malnutrition due to extreme morning sickness. I would like to do a blood analysis as a precaution. I recommend we start you on a light diet, foods that are easy to digest such as rice, bananas, crackers, and so on. Try to eat several small meals throughout the day, rather than three large meals. Drink plenty of fluids, ginger ale or ginger tea has been proven to help with nausea, but avoid caffeinated drinks. Also, avoid fatty or greasy foods. I suggest you start on a prenatal vitamin, which you should take with food. If your symptoms persist, I can prescribe you an antiemetic. Otherwise, I'll have one of the nurses set you up with your next appointment in about a week, which we can use to discuss the next step."

Connor looked uncertain. You haven't been able to stomach anything, so he doubted switching your meal plan would help much. He also knew the doctor would not yield unless an attempt was made. It left him feeling frustrated.

"Thank you, Dr. B." You chimed automatically. Connor could tell you had the same dubious thoughts.

After the doctor left, the nurses came back, one sporting a small needle. You instantly tensed.

"Please relax, this will only take a moment." Despite their words and Connor's attempts to distract you, your panic made the first attempt to draw blood unsuccessful, the vein collapsing before any usable amount could be harvested.

"Y/n, you have to calm down," Connor spoke softly, turning your head and stroking your cheek.

"Easy for you to say. I don't see them shoving a piece of metal into your arm." You fidgeted, trying to look over at your arm, but Connor held you still. One of the nurses took a different approach.

"Is this an engagement ring?" She asked.

Getting a good look at her, you noticed her gentle smile, mousy brown hair pulled back into a perfectly imperfect bun. She also still wore her LED, blue spinning at a lazy pace. Her nametag read "Lyra".

"Yeah, it is," you answered hesitantly, holding up your left hand so she could inspect it better. She gently held your hand, looking over the deep blue stone. "It's a thirium diamond, so I could always have a piece of him with me." You smiled, recalling the memory.

"It's beautiful," Connor looked over and saw the other nurse had finished drawing blood, focusing on removing the IV. "How long have you two been together?"

"Over four years," you beamed. You loved talking about your relationship, sharing it with anyone willing to listen.

"Wow, so not long after the revolution."

"Yeah, we worked in the same precinct and eventually became friends. We started hanging out more and more. Now, I couldn't imagine my life without him." You gazed at him as you made your declaration. He could see the light flickering back in your eyes, masked by exhaustion, but there none the less. He smiled back, wishing to get you home so he can hold you close to him, ground him in the fact that you weren't leaving. Instead, he kissed your forehead, backing away, embarrassed, after hearing the 'awws' from the nurses.

The nurses helped you out of bed, ensuring you could walk. You stumbled but claimed you were alright. They had yet to get a shipment of wheelchairs, previously unneeded since androids could simply replace their legs or backs if they get damaged, so they followed you out the door before you thanked them and they headed back inside. One of them handed Connor an appointment card, to which he memorized and slipped into his pocket.

With the nurses gone, he was quick to pick you up once again, your unsteady steps making his anxiety hike up.

"Hey! I can walk!" You squirmed in his arms.

"Please, just let me carry you to the car." As soon as the words left his lips he felt something hard hit him in the back of the head, causing him to stumble slightly.

"Keep to your own, tin can!" A voice shouted. Connor looked over his shoulder and noticed a small group of people gathered out of sight of the front of the hospital, all starting to pick up rocks, shouting anti-android chants and slurs.

"Connor! Are you alright? You're bleeding!" He could hear the alarm rising in your voice. Rather than answer you, he held you tighter and dashed off to the car, calling the station as he did. Setting you down as carefully as possible, he quickly rounded to the other side just as the group started to run up to the car. With the speed and accuracy only an android is allowed, he turned the car on, pulled out of the parking lot, and sped off, breathing a sigh of relief once he was on the road.

He could feel your eyes on him as he quickly made his report, panic laced as you waited for him to answer you. He hung up and, after a quick scan, smiled softly.

"I'm alright, it's just a small cut. They happened to knick a minor thirium line. It will repair itself on its own."

You didn't look convinced as you turned your gaze to your hands in your lap, then out the window as your eyes watered. He took one of your hands and laced his fingers with yours. You squeezed back tightly.

He needed to go to the store, but you were in no state to be walking around, not to mention the blue currently seeping into the back of his shirt was sure to draw attention. He was about to voice his plans when he caught sight of your grave face.

"What's wrong?"

"That car, the silver one... I think its following us." Connor looked out the rearview mirror and spotted the car in question. He noted that the windows were tinted and it was missing its license plate. Never a good sign.

He tested it, turning down a few random streets, and, sure enough, it followed. It wasn't even hiding the fact, tailing as close as possible.

"Let's go to the station." You merely nodded, staring at the vehicle in question with dread.
It followed up until he turned into the parking garage, speeding off once they realized where they were. Connor tried to see if there was a rear license plate, but couldn't from his angle. Instead, he pinged a police drone to follow the vehicle, hoping to get a positive identity on the driver.

He parked and helped you out of the vehicle, noting your shaky grip. You played it off that it didn't bother you, pretending to be annoyed at returning to work after spending all day here.

"Since we're here, let me get a look at your head. If nothing else, we should get photos for evidence." Connor nodded as he pulled you close, letting you walk on your own. He felt you lean into him, whether for extra balance or reassurance, he had no clue, but welcomed it nonetheless.

"The fuck?!? You beatin' on 'im now?" Hank walked up to the two of you, eyeing the blue that has since seeped around the top of his shirt. Good thing thirium evaporates, otherwise, his shirt would be a lost cause.

"Shouldn't you be at home, nursing a beer right about now?" You joked, attempting to keep the atmosphere light.

"Shouldn't you be in a hospital, gettin' a cocktail of meds shoved down yer throat?" Hank was busy trying to get a good look at Connor's head as the android made an effort to dodge his hands.

"Already went," you held out your arm, showing the cotton balls taped to the limb.

"What'd they say?" Hank had managed to hold Connor still, seeing the gash on the back of his head, hair and skin pulled back and showing the white chassis underneath, "and what the fuck happened to you?"

"Anti-android protesters," Connor answered while you pulled him along, prompting Hank to follow, "They were waiting outside of the hospital. I already reported it, and once we get photos of my injury, I will have finished our statement."

Hank looked at you as you set Connor down in one of the chairs in your office, grabbing a scanner. He noticed how tightly you held his shoulder, like you would fall if you didn't.

After a quick scan, you grabbed some wet wipes and started cleaning the blue away from the wound. He flinched slightly at the touch.

"And what did the doc say?" Hank was getting antsy, wanting to help, but didn't know where anything is. Your office was a mess.

"It's mine," Connor stated, still having trouble wrapping his mind around it. Hank was too, apparently, based on the look he gave the two of you.

"Some Cyberlife employee decided to test his science project with the general public." Hank's face contorted into one of horror, to which you were quick to clarify, "the doctor is confident that the baby is healthy. We go back in a week to discuss what our plans are."

"And yer okay with this?" His question was directed at you.

You simply shrugged your shoulders, "I don't think I really have a say in the matter."

Something about the way you said it, so nonchalant, almost like you were resigned to your fate, hit Connor hard, bringing all the remorse he felt right back to the surface. You didn't ask to carry his baby, nor did he ask if you wanted to.

Did you even want a child?

He bit his lower lip, a habit he had developed as an effort to bottle his emotions. You noticed and draped your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling your cheek against his.

"Though, knowing it's Connor's, I can't say I mind too much." You mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"You two seem to have made up then, I take it?" Hank scowled at the sickeningly sweet scene before him.

"I owe her a shoulder massage. We also agreed that she can shoot me should I lose my temper again." Hank nodded. Sounds about right.

"Good, 'cause I don't wanna be haulin' my partner in."

Connor huffed out a laugh before noticing that the weight you were putting on him was increasing.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?" You were falling asleep against him. While he didn't mind, he would rather take you home. He shifted, compelling you sit up with a yawn. Stumbling to the fridge, you grabbed him a small pouch of thirium.

"There ain't nothin' funny with this batch of blue blood, is there? Not gonna grow a second head or nothin'?"

"Only one way to find out," you smirked, handing Connor the pouch. He broke the seal and took a sip.

"I'm not detecting any impurities, though that didn't mean anything before."

"Well, I don't think I can get pregnant any more than I already am." You chuckled, leaning against him again.

"Why don't you two head home already? You filled out yer report, we'll take care of the rest."

"Actually, there's one more thing," Connor sat up, addressing Hank with a serious air about him, "directly after leaving the hospital, a silver car was following us. It had hidden its plates and the windows were tinted. It only sped off once we pulled into the department. I attempted to track it using a police drone, but, based on my last scan, the drone was shot down by one of the people in the vehicle. I tried to scan his face, but he was concealing his identity."

"Mother fuckers," Hank muttered, face grim. "Did you see which direction they were heading?"

"Southwest, back towards the hospital."

"Alright, we'll put out an APB in that area and send a patrol car down yer street, just to be safe. You go home and if you see the car again, call us immediately."

"Actually, I need to run to the store. The doctor instructed us to start on a restricted diet and prenatal vitamins."

"Shit can't wait 'til mornin'?"

"She is already in a compromised state, I don't want her to get any worse!" Connor practically yelled, suddenly defensive, causing you to flinch back reflexively. Realizing his mistake, he looked down in shame. "I just want to keep her safe," he spoke quietly.

"How 'bout this, you give me a list, and I'll go pick it up, then run it by yer house."

"I couldn't ask tha-"

"You ain't, I am. You only live one street over from me. I'll sleep better knowin' yer both safe at home anyway."

"Thanks, Hank." A wearied smile gracing your features, the first real smile he's seen from you in a while.

"Don't mention it, just get yerself some rest, and for the love of god eat some damn food. Kid is gonna come out thinner than a pencil you keep eatin' the way you are."

The ride home was quiet. You leaned against the window, apprehensive as you looked out the rearview mirror for the eighth time that minute. It didn't seem to matter that it was too dark for you to distinguish any of the other cars apart, even with the help of the streetlights. After a few minutes, Connor couldn't take the silence any longer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout."
You looked over before leaning against his shoulder.

"It's fine, I'm just a bit on edge. Been one hell of a week."

"I agree." He wanted to say more, but your heavy-lidded eyes told him it will have to wait.

Pulling up the driveway, you jolted to attention when Connor killed the engine. Seeing where you were, you huffed out a sigh and slowly climbed out of the car. Connor rounded on you, but you waved him away. He unlocked the door and let you take the lead.
The spattering sound as you stepped into the doorway had you looking down.

"Uh, Connor?"

He observed it, and if he could, he would have gone pale before dashing off to the bathroom. The entire house had a thin layer of water coating the floor. It splashed with every step you took. Connor came back out of the bathroom, cheeks flushed as he looked at the mess.

Maybe you were delirious, or maybe it was the ridiculousness of it all, but you burst into hysterics. Connor stared at you before he found himself laughing as well. Compared to everything that has happened this week, this was nothing.

He picked you up, carrying you bridal style before dispensing you onto the bed. The linens had been changed, the light scent of lavender beckoning you to lie down and drown in its sweet scent.

"There... Isn't any hot water left for you to bathe in." His sheepish answer only earning another bout of giggles. You kicked off your shoes, hearing the splats as they hit the ground. Connor went to the dresser and procured an oversized nightshirt.

"I suppose if I really wanted to, I could roll around on the floor." You fought with your shirt before he reached over and pulled it off. He ran a hand along your stomach. You had lost a substantial amount of weight in such a short time. You shivered under his touch. His hand stopped just below your navel, stroking the soft skin.

"What if... What if I'm not ready?" His voice was soft and worried. You placed your hand over his, stilling his movements against you.

"I don't think anybody is ever really ready for kids, even when they plan for them. As long as you're willing to put in the effort." You sighed, "If you truly aren't ready, there are... Other options. Many people are looking to adopt." He took your hand, grasping it between his own.

"How are you so calm about this?" You are the one who is sick. You are the one who will suffer through pregnancy and childbirth, risking your life, yet, you put him above all that. He hasn't earned that, doesn't feel like he deserves it.

"To be honest, I'm fucking terrified," he looked at you, eyes wide. "I never saw myself as the mothering type. But, when the doctor said it was yours... I don't know... I thought it might be nice... Seeing a little you running around."

Arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest as he sat down next to you. You listened to the sound of his thirium pump, noticing how it's rapid beatings slowed to a calming rhythm. He tilted your head up, kissing you tenderly, almost hesitantly. He sighed when you kissed him back before pulling away.

"I don't want our baby to be raised by somebody else." He looked steadfast in his declaration. "I... I want to help raise our child." You relaxed back into his embrace.

"Good."

Eventually, he stood back up, realizing your skin felt cool to the touch. He finished helping to get you ready for bed, tucking you in before turning to walk out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to clean the floors. Not to mention, Hank will be here soon."

"It will take you all night to clean the floors!"

"It still needs to be done. We're lucky there weren't any loose wires on the ground."

"The carpets and everything will probably need to be redone, we can just hire someone in the morning. I need my future husband now."

That last sentence was all it took to have him kicking off his own socks and shoes before crawling into bed. You pulled him towards you, nuzzling into his chest as you threw an arm and a leg over his form. He reciprocated, holding you tightly against him, tangling his legs with yours. He shot back when he heard you gasp in pain.

"Sorry, my... My boobs hurt, " you giggled, readjusting yourself against him. Now that he noticed, your breasts were slightly swollen. Nothing you would notice but it made him realize something.

He knew nothing about pregnancy.

Connor knew how it happens, the scientific process, and he could even offer emergency assistance to women in labor, but his understanding of how it actually affected women was very limited. All he really knows are from the few stories Officer Miller has told him about his wife in idle conversation. He will need to do some research if he wishes to help you.

Mindful of your chest, he held you against him, head tucked under his chin. He inhaled, the scent so unique to you making him feel like he just came home after being away for so long. You were asleep in minutes, steady breaths puffing against his chest. His fingers played with your hair, moving the strands from your face. You seemed so relaxed. This was the most peaceful he's seen you in days. It only made him want to pull you closer into him.

There was a knock at the door an hour later. Connor was tempted to ignore it, unwilling to leave your warmth, almost afraid to. He knew, however, that Hank would not take kindly to being locked out, especially since he was making a special trip for him. Gently, he untangled himself from you. You groaned in annoyance for being disturbed but fell back asleep immediately after.

Opening the door revealed a very tired looking lieutenant carrying several bags. He stepped in and instantly looked down.

"Why the fuck is your floor wet?"

"Y/n collapsed after coming home earlier. I had been running her a bath."

"Water's supposed ta go in the tub, not out of it." Connor only rolled his eyes before taking the bags from Hank and setting them on the kitchen table.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Yeah, a shot of whiskey, but I'll take whatever," Hank smirked as he sat at the table. In response, Connor set a glass of milk down. After eyeing him, Hank shrugged his shoulders and chugged half of it down.

"How's she doin'?"

"She's stable for now, but she's still unwell. The doctor wants to try her on a special diet, but I have my doubts."

"Y/n's a tough girl, she'll pull through. We just gotta work on bein' there for 'er. I gotta say, we kinda dropped the ball on this one."

Connor huffed out a breath, nodding. He felt an overwhelming sorrow creep over him. All the guilt and remorse that had been building up overwhelming him. His lip quivering as tears threatened to fall.

"This is my fault. Had I trusted her from the start, she wouldn't be so sick. She wouldn't be so terrified or worried about my temper. This is already a stressful time for her, and I made it so much worse." The tears had started rolling down his face. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to will them to stop, to no avail. Hank gripped his shoulder, tugging him from his hands.

"Neither one of us knew how bad it was. I don't even think she did."

"But I should have! I don't have the same excuse as you! She was very obviously getting worse and I ignored it because I was angry. I willingly let her suffer over something that wasn't even her fault. I can't help but think what would have happened if I hadn't found out about the tainted thirium. How far would I let her go before I would step in? She collapsed today, but had I not gone home early, it would have happened behind that door and I wouldn't know. Probably wouldn't even question it until the next day when she didn't show up to work. She could have died! She could have died and her last few days would have been nothing but fear and misery, all because of me!" He couldn't stop the tears now if he wanted to. Hank didn't try to stop him either, knowing that sometimes it's best to let it out.

"Connor, there is nothing you can do about what was done, it's in the past. You need to focus on right now, and right now, you have a sick, pregnant woman on yer hands. She needs you. I also don't imagine I have to tell you how vulnerable she is."

It was true, statistically speaking, as a pregnant woman, you were now at the top of the list of people likely to be assaulted. Adding in the current events, you might as well paint a target on your back. This only stirred him up more.

Hank seemed to notice, pulling him into a hug. No words were needed, Hank showing his support the only way he knew how. Connor could not express how grateful he was to have him in his life. When it felt like Connor had calmed down Hank pulled back, patting him a couple times on the shoulder. Connor decided to shift the topic, needing a distraction while he collected his thoughts.

"Any news on the vehicle that was following us?"

"We got some people who witnessed the car hanging around the hospital, but that's about it. We're keepin' an eye out as a precaution. We were able to arrest the man who assaulted you."

Connor nodded. He was glad to hear that the man would not be harming anyone else tonight, but he still had a bad feeling about the car.

"I have to ask, what are your plans?" He knew what Hank wanted to know.

"We're keeping the baby." Hank seemed to relax, but only slightly.

"Are you sure? Raising a kid is a lot of work. It ain't no walk in the park. It's stressful and you never really know if you're doing the right thing. Anything can happen."

Connor was quiet for a moment before he answered with a question of his own.

"Is it worth it?"

Hank grinned.

"Worth every goddamn second of it."

.................

The next morning, you awoke to an empty bed. For a moment, you wondered if yesterday had been a dream, that Connor was still angry and everything was crashing around you. Before the depression could take hold, Connor came in, bringing in a tray of rice porridge and ginger tea. You would have relaxed had your stomach not turned at the prospect of eating, but you put on a brave face. You needed to put Connor's mind at ease.

"Good morning, Love. How do you feel?" He spoke softly, watching you sit up and stretch.

"Better than yesterday," you yawned. He set the tray down in front of you. It looked well made, if not plain.

"Thanks," you smiled up at him. You stirred it around before deciding to take a sip of the tea instead. The flavor was watered down, but the warmth was soothing.

Gathering up your courage, you spooned a bit and put it in your mouth, only to gag, bringing up some of the tea, coughing and choking. Connor immediately started to pat your back. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I can't..." you sobbed, feeling frustrated and gross.

"It's alright," Connor produced a wet hand towel, half expecting something like this to happen, though he hoped he would be wrong. "I'll message Dr. Bower and inform him of your condition." His LED swirled yellow as he wiped your lips and chin clean.

You were still upset, a feeling of uselessness and disgust settling in, mixing with the remnants of despair that tried to resurface earlier. Connor could see you starting to withdraw into yourself. He moved the tray to the floor before pulling you against him. A large hand ran up and down your back while the other tangled in your hair.

"It's alright, I've got you."

He held you, whispering reassurances. The tenderness broke you and you began to cry. Your hands clawed at his shirt, gripping him tightly, needing to feel him. He coaxed you back from your dark thoughts. Only when you had stopped crying did he pull back, though he didn't let go. Sighing, you gave him a weak, embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, I guess I'm a bit emotional today."

"Don't be. I've been reading up on your condition."

"Condition?" You interrupted, "Is that what we're calling it now? That's a terrible name for a baby."

He smirked, but continued, "it's not uncommon for you to experience mood swings, or rather, have stronger reactions to your current emotion."

You nodded, "that's good to know and all, and I appreciate that you made me breakfast, but next time we have a fight, I'd prefer if you stay with me after we forgive each other. I like knowing that it wasn't a delusion brought on by dehydration and lack of sleep."

"Got it. Though, I don't intend to let this happen again." He's not sure he could handle it.

His LED flashed again, causing him to flinch slightly. "Dr. Bower just replied. He's approved you for an antiemetic. I've already ran you a proper bath, why don't you relax and I'll go pick up your prescription?"

You suddenly looked uneasy, even a little scared. Connor realized you must still feel tense from last night. You quickly quelled it, however, and nodded, then seemed confused.

"What time is it? Don't we need to get ready for work?"

"It's 11:13 am, " before you could fully panic, he took your face in his hands, "it's alright, Hank already knows. Matter of fact, he said if he saw either of us working without him calling first, he'd 'have our asses'."

Slowly, you relaxed. You had been so tense lately, everything was setting you off. Hopefully, a quiet evening will calm your nerves, even just a little.

Connor helped you into the bath and quickly went to pick up the prescription. At the check-out counter, Connor noticed some bottles of body oil. He added a citrus-scented one to his transaction before paying and hurried back home, wary of any cars that could be following.

By then, you seemingly had just gotten out of the bath, hair wrapped up in a towel, wearing a simple white robe. He found himself staring at you, cheeks rosy from the hot water, droplets running down your neck. He swallowed, snapping himself out of his reveries to grab you a glass of water. Arousal was out of the question right now. The last thing you needed was to burn off your remaining calories having sex.

"Did you call about carpet cleaning?" You took the glass and the pill offered to you, taking it with a minimum amount of water.

The floors were still damp, though the carpet had since absorbed most of the water, giving the house a sour smell. Connor had mopped up what remained on the hardwood and the tiles earlier this morning.

"I did. There will be somebody here at five. They estimate it will take an hour. I thought we could go to Hank's and I can make you both dinner."

You hated how much he was doing for you, but you also knew how pointless it was to argue about it. You were his mission, and he would go to hell and back if that was what it would take to make you happy and healthy again.

You sink down on the couch, feeling a lot better after washing up. You didn't realize how cold you were until you hit the hot water. Connor had put in Epsom salt as well as your bubble mix, adding to the relaxation. The only missing ingredient was him. You had to scold yourself for being so clingy. Baby's fault, that was it. Had to be the baby's fault. Who cares if you were lying to yourself. One of the benefits of being pregnant was blaming everything on the baby.

Connor joined you, placing his hands on your shoulders, prompting you to turn so your back was facing him. He slipped the robe just low enough to access the bare skin. You shivered at the exposure while he produced the bottle of body oil. Applying some to his hands, he began kneading your stiff muscles, starting with the back of your neck.

You sighed happily, enjoying every second. The citrus scent was calming, making you feel fuzzy. By the time he got to your shoulders, you were moaning, trying to be quiet, but it felt so damn good.

You weren't doing him any favors, the sounds riling him up. He tried to focus on the fact that you are still ill, practically chanting it in his head, but his body wasn't getting the message. Ignoring his wants, he continued to work your shoulders until they were soft and pliant. You melted against him, his hands instinctively moving to your stomach.

"Damn, Con, your fingers are like magic." You shifted back, butt making contact with his crotch. Connor jolted his hips away, a quiet whine escaping his lips. After taking a moment, he spoke.

"I apologize, I can't seem to disable the program."

You turned in his hands, draping your arms around his neck.

"I don't mind. I like knowing I have that effect on you." He bit his lip, then took your arms from around his neck, gently easing you off him.

"I have no intention of taking action on any such urges in your current state."

You backed away, leaning on the armrest. It's probably for the best, you were still feeling weak. Regardless, you felt bad.

"Would you like a hand?" You giggled as you flourished your hands. He seemed to contemplate it for half a second before shaking his head.

"No, I think it's best that you rest. Perhaps when you're feeling better I'll consider your offer."

"Is that a treat for you or me?"

"We can make it both," he winked as he stood up. "Would you like to try eating again?"

While still a little weary, you did notice the absence of nausea. With it gone, you realized just how hungry you were.

"Yes, please!" He grinned at your enthusiasm, taking it as a sign you were feeling better.
He put his focus entirely on preparing your food and by the time he was done, his biocomponent was back to its standard appearance.

Connor set the tray on the coffee table, pulling it closer for you. Much to his delight, you started with the porridge, taking a spoonful and swallowing it. Then another, and another. A weight was lifted off his chest as you turned to him and smiled wide, food gone. He kissed your temple.

"I love you,", he sighed in your ear.

"I love you, too."

The rest of the afternoon was calm. Connor helped you put on some comfortable clothes, though you stole one of his sweaters, both to hide the fact that you didn't want to wear a bra and to enjoy swimming in so much warmth. He'd never complain, liking the view.

Once the carpet cleaners were there, Connor drove you to Hank's. On the way out, you noticed there was both an android and a human. While it wasn't unusual nowadays, it was nice seeing the work shared between the two instead of the human 'supervising'.

Based on the fact that Hank wasn't in his boxers and an old metal band shirt, you guessed he had just gotten home. Connor didn't bother to knock, and Sumo almost bowled him over. Even in his old age, the dog is quite spry, though you were certain Connor had something to do with it.

Now that you thought about it, SJ, Sumo's son, should be due back from training next week. It broke Connor's heart to send him, but with this certification, he would be able to bring the big lug to work.

"Hey, Hank,", you beamed as you watched Sumo lick Connor to death on the front porch.

"E... Even-ning, lieu... Lieutenant!"

"Alright, Sumo, I think he's had enough," Hank chided, though he couldn't hide his own grin. Sumo sauntered off to his bed with a huff and Hank helped the android up.

"Good to see ya standin' on yer own feet today." You only smiled again, evidently getting back to your usual, happy self.

Connor headed to the bathroom to wash the dog slobber off while you and Hank headed to the living room. You take the couch while he chose his recliner.

"How ya feelin', kid?"

"A lot better. Connor had to message the doctor for meds to stop me from puking, but other than that, I'm okay. Starving, but Con's been insistent about eating several small meals."

"Don't blame 'im. Can't let ya make yerself sick again." He shifted, sitting up more, "So, Connor tells me you two plan on keepin' the baby."

You nodded, "Yes."

"You think the two of ya can handle it?"

"I do. I'm not dumb to how major this is, and I'll admit, I'm worried and scared and half certain the baby will hate me, but I want this, and knowing I will have Connor's help and support, I really think we can do this." Hank seemed satisfied with your answer until you smirked. "Don't think you're getting out of this, 'grandpa'." You laughed.

His face fell.

You started to panic. Did you accidentally hit on a nerve? You didn't mean to!

"Sorry, Hank! I-I didn't mean-" fuck! What am I suppose to say?

He sank back into the chair, still not saying anything. Where the hell is Connor?

Connor, as if hearing your silent cries for help, entered the living room.
"What's happened, now?"

"I don't know! I just made a joke about him being a grandfather!" Connor looked closer at Hank.

"He's in shock," Connor said matter-of-factly, walking away towards the kitchen.

"Hey, don't leave me!" You sat there, trying to gauge how he feels about it. You felt like a kid waiting for punishment.
Finally, he spoke.

"A grandfather... Never thought I'd see the day." When he looked at you, you could see the tears glistening in his eyes. He scoffed, wiping them away before they could fall. "Gettin' soft in my old age."

You exhaled, you didn't realize you were holding your breath. Hank started snickering at you, which was both reassuring and agitating.

"You asshole!" You threw one of Sumo's toys at him, watching as he laughed louder, bouncing off his shoulder. It was infectious, and you started to join in. Within the kitchen, Connor smiled, basking in the family atmosphere.

Hank made you stay home for another day and wanted you to 'take it easy' the next couple of days. Not that it was necessary, as both kept checking up on you, Connor being more insistent. He had your meds and 'mini-meals' timed, much to your dismay, and made sure you drank plenty of water. He monitored everything you did, making sure you didn't lift anything too heavy or did anything that could cause you harm. You could only hope this will only last until your back to 100% because if it lasts all pregnancy, you might have to kill him. While it sounded bad, you were kinda glad he and Hank got a case, if only to get a small reprieve.

It was in one of the 'android' neighborhoods. Six months after the revolution, New Jericho was provided with several abandoned neighborhoods for housing homeless androids. They were given meager supplies from the government, but the community helped with donations and volunteers. In no time at all the previous eyesores were now restored to their former glory. While it was predominately androids that lived in these neighborhoods, a few humans have moved in over the last few years, including human/android couples. Connor had considered moving to one of these neighborhoods with you, as they are generally safer, but he wanted to live close to Hank.

Apparently, that peace was to be shattered. Two bodies were found, one human and one android.

The lieutenant approached Detective Collins, "Hey Ben, what do we got?"

"Got a call from one of the neighbors hearing shouting and banging. They believed it to be domestic abuse. The android shut down just as we had arrived. Forensics will be here in twenty."

"Any info on our victims?"

"The android goes by Michael. Works as a florist. Known for being outgoing and friendly. He moved in with his girlfriend, Carroll Westley, five months ago. She worked as a teacher at the elementary school and volunteered at a nursing home on weekends. She met him when she was buying flowers to decorate the day room. Neighbors say they seemed like a happy couple."

The android, a PL600, was cradling the battered woman to his chest. Closer inspection showed his thirium pump regulator was missing. Rather, it was sitting next to him, along with a large kitchen knife. Thirium pooled under them, along with blood, mixing together to create a macabre violet.

The woman, who Connor was able to confirm was Carroll while Hank wasn't looking, had large bruises on her face and throughout her body, and a total of 17 stab wounds, several on her arms but most located predominately at her lower abdomen.

The victim tried to fight off her assailant.

Connor grimaced when he scanned her.

The victim was pregnant.

"What's wrong?" Hank stood over him.

"She was pregnant."

"Yeah,", Hank spoke, grim, " I saw the pregnancy test on the counter." Connor looked up and could see the telltale pink and white stick.

Connor then scanned the knife, noticing the lack of fingerprints. Closer examination showed three pieces of fiber stuck to the handle.

It had been cleaned of fingerprints.

He moved on to the thirium pump regulator, looking to confirm his suspicions. The PL600 internals are not as sturdy as newer models. Sure enough, there was a crack running along the underside of the regulator, spider web cracks on the clear plastic. He stood up, looking around until he found what he was looking for. Blue splatter on the bottom corner of the fridge, and a small dent.

"What, you got somethin'?"

"This is a double homicide." Connor pointed out the spot on the fridge.

"She could have thrown it and he could have picked it back up."

"No, she would not have the strength to crack the component during the sustained attack, and he would have shut down before he got back to this spot."

Connor was about to run his analysis of the android when Ben called from the front door.

"Hank, you might want to come over here."

Hank walked over, followed by Connor.
The next thing the RK800 registered was impacting something hard, and a blazing heat.

Chapter Text

"Alright, with your upgrade, you get a one-month subscription to this phone service." The technician handed him a card, to which he stored the number on it immediately. "It will help with the optimization process as the new sensations can be a bit overwhelming. You can opt not to use the phone service, but it is recommended you utilize your new component at least twice a week for the first month."

"Understood."

This all started last week. Connor had been talking to Y/n, reveling in her company when Gavin decided to interrupt.

"Still prefer plastic to the real thing? Let me know when you're done playing with Ken and want a real man."

"If you're the definition of a "real man", I just might swear off them for life." You shot back, rolling your eyes.

Connor would have smirked at your response had he not been caught up in looking up who "Ken" might be in reference to him.

Urban Definition

"Ken" or "Ken-doll"
A derogatory term for androids, typically male, who are not equipped with sexual organs. See also Barbie

"That Ken-doll couldn't give it to her if it tried!"

It shouldn't bother him, as he had never needed the component, but Gavin had been right in his assumptions. He could not please you as a "real man" could, and it made him burn with shame. He wasn't in a romantic relationship with you but... He wanted to be. His face must have displayed his conflicting feelings.

"You alright there, Con?"

"Yes, just... Processing Detective Reed's insults."

"If that's your fancy way of saying it bothers you, don't worry about it. I like your company just fine. Don't matter what you're equipped with."

"But, I'm not... equipped."

"Oh! Well, that's not a big deal." You shrugged your shoulders.
"It's not?"

"Nah, sex is nothing if that's all your after. When you find the right person, they won't care." You started to walk away, towards the breakroom, but not before pulling him down to whisper in his ear, "besides, you have nice hands and a mouth, don't ya?"

You winked before strolling away, leaving the android flustered.

He put it to the back of his mind... Or, at least, tried to. Gavin seemed to have interpreted his expression as upset, so he switched from 'tin-can' to calling him 'Ken' or 'barbie' when you were in the vicinity. You didn't treat him any different, but the constant reminder of how he was incompatible for you started to eat at him.

When he got his paycheck, he did some browsing through Cyberlife's upgrades. The needed biocomponent was rather inexpensive, but the touch receptors were substantially more. If purchased together, however, it was much cheaper. Thus, led to him using his day off for the appointment.

Walking felt a little awkward, making his way to an automated taxi, heading back home. Where there had previously been nothing, now there was something and the thought itself was enough to be distracting. The sensors were switched off, which he could flip on at will, though there have been reports of the sensors activating on their own. He hopes that will not be an issue he will have to face.

Hank would not be home until late this evening. A game was playing and he had a bet with Jimmy over who would win. Connor had been invited, but opted out. Hank, wanting to respect Connor's independence, luckily didn't ask too many questions.

Then there was the number they provided with the 'package deal'. A monthly subscription to a phone line that specializes in helping both humans and androids reach peak sexual attainment. Simply put, phone sex. The upgrade came with a free month so he could grow accustomed to the feeling of sexual gratification. He had been informed multiple times that the experience can be... Overwhelming.

He got home and took care of Sumo before heading to the room Hank had allocated for him. He didn't want any interruptions. He switched out of his street clothes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Lying down, he activated his sensors.

It was so much, all at once. The cool air of his room, the soft material of his shirt, the smoothness of his blankets. It was... A lot. His previous sense of touch was nothing in comparison, might as well not exist at all. He couldn't stop himself from thinking of all the times you touched him, whether a hand at his back or pressed up against him in a tight embrace. How much had he been denied simply because he lacked the proper input?

His pants felt too tight, feeling like he was constricted. He huffed out in frustration before removing the article, practically tearing them off. His underwear was similar, though something in his mind kept him from removing them.

His idle thoughts of you seemed to have affected him. The previously soft component was starting to harden, an interesting process. While he knew what could be done, what should be done, he hesitated. He had never tried self-gratification, usually only earning it through hard work and only realized after someone he respects takes notice. To please himself simply because he wanted to... Why did it feel wrong?

Relaxing into the sheets, he recalled the number the technician gave him. Perhaps he should try it. It cannot be uncommon for an android to require assistance, particularly if they never experienced such things before. It was also completely anonymous, so if he felt uncomfortable, he could end the transmission and act as if it never happened.

After justifying it to himself, he gathered up his courage and dialed the number.

"Hello, thank you for calling the Sweet Talk Hotline. Please answer a few questions so we may direct your call. If you have a VIP extension, please dial it now." Connor found it ironic that they would use an automated voice service for a hotline specifically meant for direct interactions with another being for sexual pleasure.

"If you are a human, please press one. If you are an android, please press two. If you prefer not to say, please press three." He hardly thought it was any of their business. Still, he selected two.

"You have selected that you are an android. If you identify as a male seeking female companionship, please press one. If you are a male seeking male..." this was becoming tedious. Will he have to go through this every time he calls?

"If you would like to speak to an android, press one. If you would like to speak to a human, press two. If you don't have a preference, press three." This one took a moment. He never felt a level of attraction that humans felt with hearing other android's voices. He understood they were meant to be pleasant to humans, even his own voice was designed as such. He didn't care for many of the human voices he heard either. He knew who he wanted to hear. Selecting two, he hoped by some chance that the person on the other line might at least sound similar to her.

"Thank you for your patience. These answers will be saved. If you wish to change any of these at any time, please hit the pound key. We hope you enjoy your time." The phone started to ring.

"Hello, my name is Yen, what can I do for you, lover boy?"

"Oh fuck."

The honeyed words that traveled his body, sitting thick and heady in his groin were not what caused him to curse. His voice analytics system, which he forgot to disable prior to calling, automatically told him just who he was talking to, the last person he expected to hear on the other line. Y/n.

"Hello? You still with me, sweetheart?"

He couldn't do this. Not with you. How could he face you at work the next day? What if you found out it was him? Should he confront you? Would you confront him? While he panicked, his body was making decisions on its own, cock almost completely hard, twitching at every honeyed nickname you called him.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to curse. Your voice... It's very pretty." What was he doing? He should just hang up now.

"Aww, that's sweet of you to say. Here I was afraid I scared you off."

"No, I just... I'm sorry, I've never... Done this... Before..." every fiber in his being was yelling at him to end this travesty, yet he couldn't bear to not hear you speak so sweetly to him.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. New component?"

"Y-yes."

"Mmmn, so I get to be your first? I'm honored."

Oh, rA9, the way you moaned into his ear.

"Tell me, lover boy, would you like me to instruct you, or are you looking for something different?"

What did he want? Instructions were what he was used to, what he was made for. Perhaps knowing you approved of what he was doing would make him feel less guilty. "I think I would like you to tell me what to do."

"Oh! A man after my own heart!" He could feel heat settling in his cheeks. "Let's start with your attire. Tell me, love, what are you wearing?

"A white t-shirt and black boxer briefs."

"I like the look, but I'd love it if you took them off." He wasted no time removing the last of his clothes, lying bare on his bed, cock flush with his belly. It was a strange sight for himself, but he is happy to follow your directions.

"They are off."

"Good boy," a wave of electricity passed through him, a sound escaping his lips. "Was that a moan? You like being my good boy?"

"Y-yes." His voice was so weak.

"Damn, you sure this is your first time? You're going to get me going." He found he liked that too.

"Alright, I want my good boy to take his cock into his hand. Give me a nice, slow stroke, all the way from base to tip."

He followed your directions, and immediately felt an overwhelming sensation he could only describe as bliss from the drag of his fingers against his sensitive skin. He whined as his body shook.

"That's a beautiful sound. Set a nice, slow pace. Focus on every movement, every touch, against your cock."

It was thrilling, hearing your compliments and praises adding to the experience in a way he never expected. He wished you were here, wished you were talking to him directly, knowing who he is. He wanted your salacious words for him alone.

"Tell me, Love, how does it feel?" He noticed your voice sounded slightly strained. Was it on purpose?

"G-good, it... It feels so good."

"Mmmm, imagine how good it would feel if I was with you, showing you the good time you deserve?" You knew exactly what to say to build his arousal. Closing his eyes, he imagined you here, with him, In his bed, your hand replacing his own. He gasped sharply when he used his thumb to press against the plush head.

"Sounds like you like that thought," you giggled. He tried to suppress some of his moans, embarrassed, but you were having none of it.

"Come on, sweetheart, I wanna hear you." How could he possibly deny you? He groaned in response, panting as the pleasure mounted.

Your breathing had gotten heavier, soft moans breaking up delicate breaths.

"A-are you?"

"Am I what, sweetheart?"

"Are you... Achieving release?"

"Always with the fancy talk. If you're asking me if I'm touching myself, imagining you here with me, putting that sweet tongue of yours to good use, skilled fingers deep inside me, then yes, I am."

"O-oh fuck," Something was building, his systems were maxing out, completely overwritten by euphoria. Everything felt so tight. He started to thrust into his hand, needing to move, unable to stop. You were moaning wantonly now, the sounds only spurring him on. His free hand clawed at the sheets below him, he could feel it tear under his grasp.

"A-are you gonna cum for me, ahh...l-like a... Like a good boy?"

"Yes! Anything for you!" Voice laced with static as suddenly the tension snapped, shouting. Electricity traveled throughout his being, so much, all at once. Synthetic cum decorating his chest. He barely registered your voice hit a fever pitch before tapering into deep breaths.

"Mmmnn... That was... Amazing. Would be better if you were here with me." Even while still recovering, his cock twitched at the connotation, making him wince as he felt the slight pain of over-stimulation. "How was it for you, love?"

He tried to gather his thoughts, the sensors still buzzing under his skin. It felt nice, if not a bit much. He wasn't sure he could move, not that he really wanted to right now. Never had he felt more relaxed.
"Incredible."

"I'm glad to hear it. Maybe we could try the real thing next time." There was a hint of a mischievous tone to your voice, clearing the fog in his head. He began piecing together what you had said, been saying. The next words purred out of your sweet lips filled him with both dread and anticipation.

"See you at work tomorrow, Connor."

Chapter Text

You and Sixty had the day off, using it to relax and watch tv. Sixty was lying on top of you, head resting on your chest with his arms around your back, reclined on the couch. He was practically purring as you

absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. You had been at it for at least an hour, but it never seemed to be enough for the touch-starved android, not that you minded.
Connor came through the door, spying the duo curled up together. Watching as they perked up at his presence. He felt a warmth spill within him, soothing some of the aches of a long day of detective work.

"Hello, love," you called.

"How was your day?" Sixty finished.

Connor sighed upon remembering his day. "Frustrating, to put it simply. We had another case of a former owner murdering his android. The man believed he was simply getting rid of a 'defective product' and didn't see anything wrong with his actions. During the arrest, he kept berating me, and I couldn't do the interrogation because he wasn't going to talk to a 'broken computer'."

"Aww, come here," Sixty shifted as you got up, taking Connor's hand and sitting him on the center of the couch. As he relaxed into it, Sixty draped his arms across Connor, resting his head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Some humans will never see us as alive." Sixty's words held a hint of bitterness, a hurt that will take time to heal. You and Hank were the only humans he trusted fully and wholeheartedly.

"All the more reason to remember the ones that do," you beamed from the ground, having knelt down to remove Connor's shoes. While he didn't have muscles that could ache, it still felt good when you began rubbing his feet, an action he often did for you after a long day. A tug on his shoulder made him look over. Sixty was trying to remove his jacket. Sitting up, he allowed the android to take it, promptly hanging it up by the door before standing behind the couch, unbuttoning Connor's shirt just enough to expose his shoulders. He trailed his hands down and started to massage them.

Unbeknownst to him, static electricity had built up at several connection points in his neck and back. The gentle kneading helped move the energy around, sending pleasant tingles throughout his body, seemingly amplified by your added ministrations. He softly moaned, closing his eyes as he relaxed into the touches.

Also unknown to him, as the blissful tingles traveled below the belt, a tent starting to form in his pants in front of you. It reminded you of another way people have found release from the stresses of life. Question is, what was his preference?

"Hey, Connor?" Your sweet voice lifted some of the fog that had entered his mind. He hummed in acknowledgment. "Do you have any kinks you would like to try?" He opened his eyes at that.

"What?"

"Kinks. You know, a sexual preference that might have caught your interest. I know Sixty is a sub freak-"

"Hey!" Said android pouted.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I mean it in the best of ways." Your gentle smile and genuine words were enough to placate him. You returned to addressing Connor, "-but, you always seem to just go with the flow. While there's nothing wrong with that, I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to try something different."

He would be lying if he said he never thought about it, though he didn't think about it excessively. Occasionally, watching you as you dominated him and Sixty, he wondered what drew you to your preference, but he was certain you wouldn't find enjoyment if the roles were reversed. Besides, he enjoyed having sex with you and Sixty, so he saw no need to delve any further.

"I... can't say that I have any." He eventually answered.

"That just means you don't know them." You grinned, "we'll just have to discover yours."

Hands having abandoned his feet, you moved to knead his hardening member, earning a deep groan. As Sixty went to capture his lips, you worked on a plan to find out just what your android partner needed.

It had been a few days since that fateful conversation and Connor's luck had still not turned. Almost a week full of dead androids and hateful humans. Even Sixty was starting to be affected by it as him and his partner, Det. Collins, tried to shoulder some of the weight. It was painful seeing your two golden boys hurt as they were.

Tonight would be a good night to test Connor. You would be off the next day should he choose anything too strenuous. Just the thought of that was getting you going.

"Hey, Connor?" He looked up from his paperwork, a pout on his lips from being interrupted.

"Yes?"

"I want you to do me a favor. I'm going to give you an address for you to go to after your shift. You are not to look up what it is. Go there and buy anything that catches your attention, then come home." He stared at you, perplexed and suspicious, you only smiled innocently. "I mean it, don't look it up beforehand, and don't play coy and have someone else look it up for you." Damn, you knew him too well. He smirked.

"Alright, give me the address."

That was five hours ago. Once again, you and Sixty were home alone. You filled in Sixty of your plan, insisting he doesn't tell Connor. He seemed to be excited at the prospect, making you a light dinner as soon as the two of you got home. As you were eating, Sixty's LED flickered yellow a couple of times before he turned to you.

"Connor has just informed me that he is going to kill you when he gets home."
You stared before bursting out laughing.

"Tell him not to threaten me with a good time unless he plans to deliver."

Sixty relayed the message. Only a few seconds pass before his LED flickers again and you watch as Sixty's face flushes.

"H-he says he hopes we are ready, because if he has his way, the only way either of us is getting rest is if we pass out." You stopped smirking.

"Oh shit." What the fuck could he have gotten? What did he have planned? It was just as titillating as it was terrifying.

You didn't have to stew on it long, as a few minutes later, Connor threw the door open, face flushed a deep blue.

"A sex shop? Really?"

"You're the one who always telling me how stress-relieving sex is, and you've been super tense for a week now." You eyed the black paper bag in his hand. "So, you did get something?"

He sighed, "I knew you would not approve if I returned home with nothing." He suddenly seemed nervous. "We really don't have to use thes-"

"Nonsense!" You chirped, "This night is about you, Connor. You've taken so much shit lately, and you don't deserve it."

Sixty interjected, "You matter, and tonight, we want you to feel it."

Connor still seemed nervous, but nodded.
"So, what did ya get?" You eyed the bag, curious.

He set the bag down on the couch, hesitated for a moment, before producing two collars, one a vibrant purple while the other was a beautiful blue. You knew Sixty's favorite color was, in fact, purple. There were tags on the collars, but you couldn't read them.

"Dog collars?" Sixty asked innocently.

"They have a soft lining on the inside for comfort," Connor defended. You walked up and took hold of one of them. Sure enough, the inside was soft to the touch. Taking a closer look at the tag, you melted, smiling at the sweet nickname he gave you. 'My Heart' was carved in perfect cursive. A quick look at the other and you read 'My Soul' in the same font.

"You both are my heart and soul, it's only fair to be named as such." Connor looked down at the ground after his admission. You lifted his head. If the collars were any kind of hint, you knew what he wanted.

"A dom keeps their head up, so their subs know exactly who's in control." He stared, wide-eyed. "If this is what you want, I don't mind stepping down every once in a while. Just be aware, I'm not used to this role."

"Of course." He smiled, relieved.

"Well!" You clapped your hands together violently, making the two androids jump, "Are we ready to begin?" They nodded. Connor's demeanor suddenly changed from shy and apprehensive to strict and determined.

"You will do as I say tonight, nothing more, nothing less, understand?"

"Yes, Connor." You both answered in tandem.

"Good, now strip."

You both worked on removing your own clothes. Sixty, unsurprisingly, finished first. You couldn't help but notice that his cock was already hard and leaking. 'Definitely a sub freak' you thought with a smirk, removing the last of your undergarments. Connor put Sixty's collar on before attaching a matching leash. He pulled him in for a kiss, cupping his cheek lovingly before turning to you to do the same. He held on to the ends of the leashes as he started to undress.

"You are not allowed to touch yourselves or come unless I say so." He removed his shirt, then his belt, ripping it from its loops violently. "Should you disobey, there will be punishment." His rumbling voice was definitely starting a fire in you. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. He unbuttoned his fly, but before dropping his pants, he turned to you both. "If it is too much, if you are in pain, even if you are just uncomfortable at any time, just say 'thirium' and I will stop."

"Of course, love."

"Yes, Connor."

Connor returned to his stern posture, dropping his pants and underwear at the same time, revealing his thick, hard length standing at attention before the two of you.
He sat the two of you down on the ground, leveled with his cock.

"Suck."

You and Sixty worked in tandem, licking and sucking along his length. Connor groaned, fighting to keep his eyes open. Your tongues danced over him, fighting to touch the other around the intrusion. At the tip, you quickly locked lips before returning to the task. You suckled his head before moving back down, focusing on his testicles. Sixty took on the task of sucking him off, savoring the feeling of Connor's cock sliding in and out of his mouth. He reached down and started stroking himself, needing the stimulation. Connor saw this, using a foot to knock his hand away before grabbing onto the back of his head and slamming himself all the way down his throat.

"I control your pleasure tonight," he grunted out, "this will be your punishment." Connor started to ruthlessly fuck into Sixty's throat. The younger RK800 could only sit there as he was used, tears springing to his eyes. It was so much, all at once, but... it felt good, too. The slight pain of the stretch felt far too pleasurable, Sixty moaned around his cock, cleaning fluid dripping down his chin and into his chest. You could only sit back and watch, fingers digging into the carpet as you fought the urge to touch yourself. Connor suddenly pulled his cock out of Sixty's mouth, he moaned in protest, trying to take it back.

"You like it when I fuck your throat?"

"Yes! Yes! Please more!" Sixty rasped, voice staticky.

"I'd bet you'd like me to fuck your pretty mouth all night long, force Y/n to watch as I fill you over and over."

Sixty could only moan at the images that played in his mind, hips thrusting, begging the air for friction. Connor smirked.

When he envisioned this, he hadn't expected it to feel as good as it did. He now understands why you prefer to be in control.The glazed, lustful eyes that watched his every movement were beautiful. Hearing the desperate whines from both you and Sixty were like sparks of electricity traveling throughout his body before settling in his abdomen.

He slowly brought his cock back towards Sixty's greedy mouth, forcing him to only take the tip as he fought to take more, looking up, desperately, lovingly. Connor wasn't going to last much longer.

He granted his wishes and pushed forward, loving how Sixty's wanton moans vibrated his whole being. He went back to his breakneck speeds before suddenly keeping himself buried, cradling Sixty's head against his pelvis, jolting against him as he came. He felt him swallow, unnecessary as his synthetic cum was forced down his throat. At this moment, both androids could appreciate the fact that they didn't need to breathe. Sixty, however, made a strangled sound, prompting Connor to gaze down. His eyes had rolled towards the back of his skull, body convulsing.

"You came, from this?"

Sixty couldn't respond, mind a jumbled mess. He barely registered Connor pulling out of his mouth, even as he gasped for needless breath.

"Are you alright?" Connor dropped the act for a moment as he kneeled down. No amount of pleasure was worth hurting his loved ones. Sixty threw his body forward in a crashing kiss, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

The kiss was only broken when Sixty pulled back and moaned, panting fast. You had grown tired of waiting, taking the opportunity to clean Sixty of the mess he had made of himself. Already having cleaned his chest, you licked from base to tip, swirling around it with your tongue before kissing it, pulling back with a loud pop that made Sixty yelp and twitch again.

"You have been very good. I should give you a treat." Connor stood up, holding both leashes as he headed to the bedroom. He set you both on the bed, gesturing to lay back while he went back into the living room, grabbing the black paper bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out a fluffy, blue pair of handcuffs. The center link was a luminescent triangle.

Android handcuffs.

"You seemed to enjoy your punishment, even cumming before I gave you permission." Sixty's eyes went wide as he cowered under Connor, backing up slowly.

"I'm sorry, I'll be good!" Sixty whimpered.

"Yes... You will."

Connor shot forward, quickly reaching for his hands, making Sixty yelp at the sudden flurry of movements. He handcuffed him to the headboard, unable to put his arms down. Sixty tested the cuffs, the softness hiding the true strength. He would not be able to break them so easily.

"You are not to touch unless I allow it." The growl in his predecessor's voice reverberated throughout his being as he whined.

Connor turned back to you. A slight panic settled in your chest. Chains had always been your game, so you weren't sure how you would feel on the receiving end of such a punishment. Only here would you be willing to try, only with them. It was still a lot, to give up all your power, even if it was superficial at this moment.

Instead, Connor moved to kiss you, pushing you back to lay down against the pillows as he deepened the kiss, tongue darting past his lips to lap at yours before plunging into your wet cavern. His hands trailed your body, grabbing at your breasts before teasing your nipples, already hardened from the cool temperature of the bedroom. You mewled at his actions.

He traveled south, devilish tongue roaming your body, sucking and nipping lightly on sensitive skin, leaving marks in their wake. He reached the apex of your thighs.

"Tell me, my heart, how much do you want me?"

Begging. You had never begged like this before. Definitely not without mind-altering drugs to fuel your depravity. That didn't stop you from answering him.

"Please, I don't just want you, I need you, Connor." He seemed pleased with your answer, kissing your inner thigh.
He dipped his head down, lapping at your folds. He noted how soaked you were already, expertly twirling his tongue against your clit. His breath fanned against your heat as you squirmed. Pinning your naughty hips with one arm, he slipped two fingers inside, working you open. Your luscious moans filled the air, broken only by Connor's own groans of satisfaction and Sixty's exquisite whines. He added a third finger, feeling as you quivered around the appendages.

Just when you were on the precipice, he ripped his fingers away, leaving you gasping. He waited a few seconds before sliding his fingers back in, playing you like a finely tuned instrument. Your hips fought against his iron-like grip as he edged you to oblivion. It took everything you had to plead for it to end.

"Connor! Please!!!" You screamed. He only smirked, taking his fingers out once more. Instead, he took one of his fingers and eased it into your tight ring. You jolted, forcing yourself to relax into the gentle movements.

"That's it, my heart. You're doing so good for me," Connor purred, working another finger inside. You were nothing but a babbling mess, unable to form any words. His praise made you melt and his fingers set you ablaze. He was stretching you open, preparing you. Despite feeling so full already, he added a third finger, happy when you accepted it so easily. You started to work your hips, taking anything he would give you if it would finally push you over the edge. However, he wasn't finished, pulling his fingers out once again.

"You look so beautiful like this, begging to be stuffed full," his sinful words danced across your skin as you shivered. Was this really your Connor? He climbed back on top of you, capturing your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. Breaking away, he pulled you to sit up.

"I want you to take Sixty into your mouth. Get him good and wet for us." You did as you were told, lost in a submissive haze you never thought possible.

Sixty's cock was throbbing with need, hips twitching. His tip was leaking precum, to which you laved your tongue against, collecting the sweet nectar before swallowing it. He moaned out your name, the handcuffs rattling against the headboard. You sucked him into your mouth, following Connor's instructions as you worked the moisture across his entire length. Sixty tried to thrust up into your mouth, but Connor pulled your head back.

"Straddle Sixty's cock, but don't move. Sixty, if you move or cum this time, the game is over for you tonight. You will watch as I fuck her every way I see fit, with no relief for yourself. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, sir." Sixty moaned as you chose that moment to take him into your slick, wet heat. Connor's cock twitched at the use of the title. He didn't ask Sixty to address him as such, but he found himself liking it.

He aligned himself with your ass, slowly easing into the tight muscle, pulling out slightly and pushing himself back in a little deeper. You were gasping, clawing at Sixty's shoulders as you tried to stay still.

"Relax and let me in," he groaned in your ear. Taking a few deep breaths, he could feel the tension lessen. After a few more slow thrusts, he was seated all the way in you.

"That's a good girl. So good at taking my cock." He held still for a few minutes, reveling in the feeling. It was almost too much, so tight. He gripped your hips firmly, holding you completely still as he slowly rocked against you. Sixty could feel the drag of his cock inside you, gripping the headboard tightly and biting his lip, tasting thirium. He had to be good.

Connor sped up, but still held you firm, going at a steady pace. You were babbling at this point, half-formed syllables of his name leaving your pretty lips. They changed when he started thrusting in earnest.

"Phuh-please, hmm, l-let me cum! I-ahh, I wanna cum! Please let me cum, Connor!"
Your desperate words broken by gasps and moans had Connor gripping your body harder to fight off his own orgasm. He bent over and growled into your ear.

"Come for me."

It was all it took to send you over the edge. Connor wrapped his arms around Sixty to keep you pinned down as he continued to thrust. He groaned aloud and you could feel him twitching within you, filling you, but his speed never faltered. Sixty had tears running down his face, legs shaking as he fought to be good. Connor cupped his cheek and kissed him, licking at the blue blood on his lips.

"Let go, my soul." Sixty didn't need to be told twice, thrusting as fast as he could while simultaneously filling you. Connor matched his speed, pistoning in and out of you as you took everything they gave you. They brought you to orgasm again, but still, they did not slow.

"T-too much!" Despite your cries, you do not try to stop them, biting down on Sixty's shoulder. He only groaned, still struggling against his bonds. You cried out their names, feeling another orgasm fast approaching. Your body screamed for rest, and when the tension snapped a final time, you blacked out.

Connor stilled inside you, cumming again with a shout of your name, Sixty following suit. Both stayed like that for a moment, panting, trying to cool their systems. Connor slid out of your unconscious form with a soft grunt, gently picking you up off Sixty and setting you back next to him on the bed.

Cum was pooling between your legs, the sight stirring him up again. It made him wonder, could he make you come in your current state? A part of him told him it was wrong, but another told him that you had been the one to tell him it was 'his night' to do as he pleased. Satiating his curiosity would definitely fit the bill.

He spread your legs, more cum pouring out. Lining himself up, he sheathed himself to the hilt. A soft gasp left your pliant lips. He took your hips, lifting you up as he pulled you on to him. He knew where to hit, thrusting expertly into your sweet spot every time. Even blacked out, you moaned quietly. It felt like taboo, a dirty secret for him alone. Sixty's cum coated his length, wet sounds with each motion. He used your body, ramming into you fast and hard. His cock was so deep, he could feel your end. He pulled your hips back and forth to meet each of his movements, your body jolting, breasts bouncing. It was truly a carnal sight.

Your breathing picked up, moaning louder before you tensed, squeezing him so tightly, he almost couldn't move, not that he wasn't up for the challenge. He fucked you hard through your orgasm, chasing his own. He slammed your hips flush with his own, grinding into you as he pushed against your cervix, cumming hard. He kept himself there, his synthetic cum mixing with what remained of Sixty's, still plentiful inside you.

He released your hips, letting you fall off his soaked cock and onto the bed, a string of lubrication connecting the tip of his cock with your pussy. He heard a whine, turning to see Sixty, still chained, a pout on his face with tears running down his face. He was feeling a little abandoned. Left to watch Connor fuck your sleeping form. He had been good, right? Why was he being punished?

When Sixty met Connor's eyes, he realized that he might have been a little premature in his thoughts. His eyes were completely glazed over with lust. Even after coming four times already, his cock looked painfully hard.

Connor towered over Sixty, smashing his lips against his. He went for his neck, nipping harshly at the synthetic flesh. Sixty cried out, pulling once again against the handcuffs. His wrists were blue from the force of his fighting, even the soft cover couldn't protect him from damaging his own thirium lines.

"You've been good, My Soul, so good. So patient. How would you like me to reward you?" Connor purred into his ear before biting down, making him gasp and moan.

"P-please, anything! Anything! I want you!" He cried, sounding out of breath. He ground his hips against Connor's, cocks rubbing together.

"So eager," Connor groaned, "I could fuck your mouth again, you seemed to enjoy that. Or maybe, I could suck yours. Take you nice and deep. I might even let you come in my mouth." Connor's dirty words were being punctuated by his hips grinding harshly against Sixty. The younger android couldn't control his body, hips happy to jump up at every one of Connor's teasing movements.

"Perhaps I should ride your cock, pump my own until your chest and face are completely dripping." He did a particularly hard thrust, precum smearing against Sixty's pelvis, still wet from his and your cum. "However, you probably couldn't handle that in your state. Matter of fact, I bet you're so wound tight that you'll come the second I push my cock into your tight, little hole." He shifted, the head of his cock playing with Sixty's entrance. It was too much. His dirty talk, his lips biting and sucking, hands roaming his body, and his cock teasing him. He needed friction and he needed it now!

"Please! please! Connor, sir! Anything! Just, fuck me! Fuckmefuckmefuckme! I need it, now, please!" His hips moved to try and force Connor inside, but he pulled back as Sixty cried in frustration.

"Since you asked so nicely," Connor pinned his hips to the bed, stilling his desperate movements before pushing in, just the tip, and then pulling out. He did this several times, finding enjoyment in Sixty's frustrated whines. Just when Sixty thought he would break down, Connor reached up and took the triangle of the handcuffs into his right hand. A quick yank and the chain broke, freeing Sixty's hands.

"You might want to hold on, because I won't be holding back."

With that, Connor slammed into Sixty, knocking the wind from him and setting a fast pace. The shock left Sixty paralyzed for a moment, feeling like he was drowning as wave upon wave of pleasure overloaded his processor. It was made worse when Connor took one of his hands off his hip and grabbed his cock, stroking it to match his speed. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Before he began to panic, his body convulsed, decorating his own chest.

Connor slowed down, feeling the tight squeeze around his shaft, hearing Sixty sharply inhale before clinging to him, digging his nails into Connor's back and tearing. He gently fucked him through his orgasm, the deep, loving movements a stark contrast to his previous actions. When Sixty recovered, Connor pulled out. He had a final act of sexual depravity he would like to implement.

"My Soul, I want you to straddle Y/n's chest and grab into the headboard for me." Sixty looked confused, but did as Connor said. When he was over you, he noticed his cock was aligned with your pretty face, soft lips parted, slightly touching the tip. He remembered how warm your mouth was, how fucking good it felt. His hips bucked forward of their own volition, head pushing past lips and sitting heavy on your tongue.

Connor moved behind him, taking him once more. The motion pushed him deeper into your mouth. Connor's cock seemed to get harder, impaling him with every thrust. So deep, hitting pleasure sensors that had him twitching and crying from the stimulation. The feeling of your mouth, even just touching him, was overloading him once more. He felt himself become ruined. Never could he find pleasure with anyone else, and he never wanted to.

Connor took him from your mouth, pulling his hips slightly back before stroking his cock once again. He pressed his chest against Sixty's back, stilling inside, cock twitching. Sixty sighed at the feeling, loving when Connor came inside. The relaxed feeling only lasted a second as Connor pick up speed on his cock, teasing the head, other hand going and massaging his balls.

"I want you to cum, cum all over Y/n's face. Make a mess of her as you have done yourself." Sixty couldn't deny him. He looked down at your resting face, watching Connor's hand work his cock, feeling himself getting closer to the edge, so aware of the fact that Connor was still buried deep inside him, hard and throbbing. He wasn't done, and it was this realization that pushed him over the edge.

Sixty's cum covered your face in thick streams as he screamed. Connor didn't stop his hand, enjoying His Soul fight against the stimulation, rising off his cock, trembling, only to slam back down to escape his hand. He pushed his hips forward and released Sixty's length, watching him slump forward against the frame. His cock slid past your lips once more, the last of his cum surging into your mouth. Past his haze, he worried you might choke, but even asleep, you swallowed, moaning happily at the taste before turning your head.

Connor allowed him to recover, just for a moment, but he had a promise to keep. Nevermind that androids don't need rest.

Still buried inside, he pulled Sixty back, forcing him on all fours above you. He felt so sensitive, sensors all buzzing almost painfully under his skin. He wasn't sure he could handle another round.

Connor was bound to test him, powerful thrusts increasing their speed by the second. How was Connor still going? His arms gave out, landing on your chest, Connor only loomed over him, slamming into him over and over. He tried to hold you, trying to ground himself. It was way too much, he could feel his orgasm approaching, afraid of what would happen when it did.

"THIRIUM!" He shouted just as he came, back arching unnaturally before he short-circuited, temporarily shutting down. Connor had came only half a second before Sixty had shouted, receiving an electric shock from the shortage, which he enjoyed more than he should have. He pulled out quickly, any bliss died as he checked Sixty over, LED red. Taking his hand, he retracted his skin, connecting with Sixty's system. While he was likely to feel very sore, he was alright physically. He sighed with relief.

He felt exhausted, but so satisfied. He looked at the mess he made of his lovers. When Sixty came, he painted your stomach and chest, smearing it on himself when he collapsed, falling on you before slipping into his side. Connor's cum ran down his legs, some of it covering his ass after he pulled out so quick. A pool of cum had formed under you, still dripping from your abused holes.

"Shit," he ground out between clenched teeth. The sight of the mess only made him hard again. Taking himself into his hand, he made quick work of his cock, pumping it as fast as he could over your sleeping forms, wanting to come as quickly as possible. He couldn't ignore the wet sounds made with each pump, driving him closer. Looking at the faces of his two loves, his Heart and his Soul, he came a final time. Thick streams of cum marked you both, some even landing on yours and Sixty's cheek.

Before he could get a good look at what he just did, he reached behind him, pulling his final purchase out from his own entrance. It looked like a small, blue plug, though the tip had a flashing red light in it. He quickly switched the transmitter off before it sent another signal through his body, pushing him further beyond his limits. With it off, his body trembled, sensors buzzing, finally feeling the full impact of so many consecutive orgasms. It resembled how you described when your leg would fall asleep. Pins and needles that intensified with every movement, and even remaining motionless was too much movement. He collapsed sideways, almost falling off the bed, before turning off his sensors altogether. He sighed in relief. He didn't like being unable to feel, but after a diagnostic, he found he felt that way because, at some point, he had fried the tips of his own sensors. It would take a few hours for them to be repaired. He decided then that perhaps the transmitter was too dangerous to use.

Climbing out of bed, he made a checklist of what needed to be done, including changing the sheets and bathing his lovers. He looked at them, seeing how wrecked they were. He felt guilty, hoping he didn't push too hard, but also a little bit of pride in his work. Perhaps he should hold on to the transmitter.

Every once in a while can't hurt, right?

........................

When you came to, you saw Sixty was in bed with you, arms around your waist as he rested. You tried to shift, only to immediately regret it, crying out softly. Everything hurt, not that you were surprised. What did surprise you was how clean you were. You had on a nightshirt and a pair of underwear. No bra, but from how sore your chest was, you didn't mind. You reached for your neck, only to find the collar gone. You were a little disappointed, but figured Connor put it in a safe place.

Taking a look at Sixty, you noticed his collar was gone too, replaced by splotches of blue and several bitemarks, already dulled, but still will take a while before they would heal. You imagined you had a similar display, envying his repair system. He'll likely be healed by the end of the day, twenty-four hours at the most, while it will take you days, weeks to heal the worst of the bruising, not to mention the aches and pains.

He was dressed in his favorite sweater, an oversized dark gray hoodie with a cute image of a purple whale shark on the front. It was the first choice he had made as a deviant, finding comfort in its softness. It had been the last one, far too large for him, a size larger than even Hank wears, and he had worried it would be found too childish, so he put it back.

He, however, made the mistake of shopping with you. You had charged over to him from three shelves over, practically shoving him to the side as you inspected the sweater. Before he could protest, you added it to the bundle in your arms, smiling softly.

"It suits you."

You had been so genuine. He could barely classify you as friends, yet his mechanical heart raced. At the time, he felt doomed, he had to hide how he felt, crush it before it could bloom.

Strange how much has changed in such a short time. It was one of your fondest memories, made bittersweet when he told you how he felt back then.
Sixty opened his eyes slowly, groaning as his systems came back online.

"You too, huh?" You mumbled.

"Yes," he answered, voice husky and staticky. Realizing it, he blushed, turning against the pillow to hide his face. He hated showing his more 'robotic' side, even to you. You lifted your arm, almost slapping him as you dropped your hand into his head, gently caressing his hair. It pulled him out of his pillow, leaning into your touch. If androids had past lives, you were certain Sixty had to have been a cat.

"Connor really did a number on us, didn't he?" Sixty hummed in agreement. "Are you alright?" He was quiet for a moment before nodding.

"Are you? We were pretty rough with you, even after..." Sixty seemed to have just realized what they had done, taking advantage of you while you slept. You looked contemplated for a second.

"That explains the sweetness I taste. I could have sworn It was all gone before I passed out." Sixty only blushed harder, almost certain he was the source, though he couldn't be certain what Connor did after he shut down.

"Are you mad?" He asked tentatively.

"No. While I didn't expect somnophilia to be one of his kinks, I did tell him to explore them. And while I might not be able to walk for a week or two, and I'm half certain he tried to kill us in the most pleasurable way possible, if you both were able to relieve stress, I can't complain. I know I did. If he comes in here, however, I'm gonna pretend to be mad so he'll make waffles."

Sixty snorted. You never ceased to surprise him, even with something so typical of you, demanding your favorite foods as apologies.

Connor came in a few minutes later, wearing sweats and a tank top. Seeing you were awake he went to the nightstand, grabbing the pain relievers and the glass of water. He winced when he heard you cry out in pain as you shifted onto your back, sitting up. He could see the bruising on both of your necks, knowing it only gets worse under your clothes. He saw the extent of what he caused you both when he washed you, marks all over both of your bodies. You took the pills, swallowing them and sipping at the water until the glass was half gone.

"I'm sorry," Connor blurted out, unable to hold back his guilt anymore, "I didn't mean to take things so far. I promise it won't happen again."

"Hold on there, let's not say anything we might regret," you said with a smirk. "I may be wondering if we had sex or if I was hit by a train, but it was enjoyable in any case. While we can't do this very often, I wouldn't mind doing it again. How about you, Sweetheart?"

Connor turned to Sixty, remorse doubling. He had to use the safeword, which Connor interpreted as pushing him too hard, making him uncomfortable enough to need to voice it, only to be too late.

"I... Wouldn't mind... Doing it again." His face was flushed, embarrassed. While he was scared towards the end, now that he knew what would happen, a shock of absolute euphoria for that brief second before shutting down, he found himself wanting it again. Not too soon, as he already had to turn down his sensors so he could move, unwilling to completely turn them off, but definitely something to look forward to. Connor relaxed, pleased that his partners were not mad or hurt. You, however, started to glare at him.

"My ass does hurt pretty badly, though."

Connor only smiled. "If this is your bit where you pretend to be angry for waffles, it is unnecessary. I was checking if you were awake so I could bring you a plate."
You pouted, annoyed You had been figured out so quickly.

"My ass really does hurt though. Just so you know."

"I know, and I'm sorry." He leaned down and kissed Sixty and you. "Thank you, both of you." You both smiled up at him lovingly, relishing in each other's company. Connor felt like he could take on the world, a level of relaxation he hasn't felt in weeks.

After breakfast, the three of you spent the day in bed, watching tv, curled against one another. Sure enough, by the time it was dark, most of Sixty's bruises had faded, only a bit of light blue on his wrists and neck visible. He was even able to turn his sensors back up, head on Connor's chest, listening to his thirium pump while Connor played with his hair.

Connor already called you out sick for the next day, possibly two, knowing you would need the extra time. You were leaning against him, the two of you propped up on what had to be every pillow in the house. Occasionally, he would kiss your temple or Sixty's forehead, whispering sweet nothings, making the two of you melt. Thinking back on your plan, you giggled a little. Both androids looked at you, curious about what you found so funny.

"Mission accomplished," you beamed.

They only rolled their eyes as you laughed again.

Chapter Text

"It hurts again today," she spoke softly, staring listlessly out the window.

"I'll adjust your medication." He has given up on explaining how she can no longer feel pain. After so many years, it is easier to live in the lie.

She turns to him, and he can hear the soft clinks of the wires and tubes bumping against each other. Her soft smile is dampened by the distance in her eyes. He wonders where she goes when she does this. Perhaps she travels back, to before.

Before, when she was strong and vibrant, kind yet unforgiving. When her love was passionate and intense, like a red-hot inferno that threatened to destroy his very being, and he would let her, knowing she would pull him anew from the ashes.

He does his best to smile back, but every day it gets harder. Some part of her knows it, as a tear runs down her cheek, but that part of her grows weaker. He walks over and pretends to do something at one of the computers.

"That should fix it."

"Thank you." She returns her stare out the window, where the tall dead grass lay buried under deep snow. Is the earth cold in her mind? Or does she see the neatly manicured lawn glowing in the sunlight, with the small garden off to the side, full of sweet berries and colorful blossoms? Does she see the dog who used to roam that yard, whose collar now rests on the mantel?

He should go to work, stick to his routine, but he can't find the strength today. He's tired of seeing the desk across from him, what used to be his, now cluttered with another man's personal possessions. When he sits in front of his own desk, all he sees are the donut boxes from the closed down shop down the road, a picture of police officers he never had the chance to meet, a small tree replacing a dead one, and notes to a man that no longer needed them. He sees a photo of himself, tears in his eyes as he holds his police badge for the first time, and a photo of a wedding, the golden band still resting on his third finger, matching hers. He sees all this, but it is not there. Packed away when his previous partner, best friend, and his father, retired.

Now the items rest in the basement of his own home, collecting dust.

He moves to sit at her feet, careful of the monitors and machines that surround her, regulating the precious fluids that keep her tethered to this plane.

She doesn't react.

She was never one to sit still, always bouncing from one project to the next, happy to learn, explore, to grow.

She hasn't 'grown' for decades. Not since that fateful day when the fates tried to take her away from him. When he reached out to the most powerful man in the world to save the most important person in his life.

A gunshot had rendered her body as unsalvageable, but her mind could still be saved, preserved in a new body, one that does not hurt, or hunger, or tire.

One that does not grow.

She was so scared when she awoke, so confused. She needed time, but he was patient. He helped her, showed her she could still live. In no time at all, she was able to enjoy many of the things she used to do, even from the chair that chained her, the machines that kept her alive.

For years, they were able to be as they were, happy. But, after so long, far longer than she could have possibly existed in her mortal flesh, she couldn't hold onto the light in her eyes. Her mind would wander, and she would forget. Time no longer flowed in one direction, instead rushed through her from all sides, and she could no longer tell which was the right way.

For so long, she would fight to stay here with him. She couldn't abandon him to such a bleak future, where he was alone, in the cold. He knew how hard she tried, but while her body couldn't fatigue, her human mind could, and there was no stopping it. He knew he was running out of time when she would ask when Hank was coming to visit again.

The small mercy granted to him was that she never completely forgot him. She might forget their marriage, or precisely how long they have been together, but she never forgot his love, still devoted to him even if she forgot how or why. Every morning he fears will be the morning she asks the question he dreads most.

"Who are you?"

He couldn't bare it. If she ever forgot him completely, then he would truly be alone. Alone in a world that has moved on without him, left frozen in the snow. God, did he hate the cold.

He knows what he should do, but he's scared. Wrapping his trembling arms around her legs, he allows himself to weep. He cries for the friends he helped to bury. The pets that showed him unconditional love until the end. The man that taught him how to live, even when he had felt like dying, now resting with his little boy, the older brother he hopes to meet. He weeps for the woman in his arms, the embodiment of his heart and soul, trapped in this hellish world with him.

He weeps for himself as he is crushed under the weight of several lifetimes worth of grief.

He jolts when he feels her fingers, artificial as they are, run through his hair. He looks up at her, and she looks at him, her own cheeks stained with tears. The light is flickering, and he knows it's time.

It's all timed, how long they both will have. He can't help but think how cruel time could be. It gave him so much while it gave those around him so little. It marched forward when all he wanted was to go back. Perhaps, there would be room for him in heaven, with his father and brother.

With her.

It is his last wish, his last hope.

She took his hand, skin pulled back. A sense of calm washed over him, the warmth of her love melting the ice-cold fear that flowed through his artificial veins. She held on tightly as her body started to fail her, as did he, focusing on the building heat, the familiar fire igniting under his skin, so intense after going without for so long. She feels it too, and with it, they both will burn, with the hope that they can be reborn once more, together.

As everything starts to grow dark, he is certain he hears the voice of an angel singing his requiem.

"Everything will be alright"

Chapter Text

It was a regular day at the DPD. The revolution was starting to feel like old news, most people accepting their citizenship rather quickly. There was still a long way to go, but crime was down and the city was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Connor and Lt. Anderson was just finishing up their shift when Hank's phone went off. He was starting to answer it, actually wanting to talk to the person on the other side.

"Hey, Connor, think you can hang with Y/n tonight?"

The android smirked, "Is it Rose?" Hank had met her when they were registered as some of the only humans allowed in New Jericho. They really hit it off and started seeing each other regularly. While Hank was still Hank, he was keeping himself well-groomed lately, tying his hair back and keeping his beard trimmed. He also lost a decent amount of weight, thanks to Connor's pestering. 

"What's it to ya?" Apparently, Hank was even feeling younger, acting like a defensive teen.

"Nothing, lieutenant, I'll go ask her." He got up and headed for your office. It was set up for emergency android repair, though you often acquitted it to nothing more than a school nurse's room. 

Inside, you had a female android with her back exposed as you fixed the placement of a shoulder plate. 

"Ok, try lifting your arm..."

The officer, named Kimcy, did as you asked.

"And how does that feel?"

"Much easier. Thank you." She put her arm back down as the skin formed back over.

"No problem. Just know, after it slips the first time, it will be easier to slip again. You might want to consider replacing it next chance you get."

"Alright, I will do so. Have a nice night, Y/n."

"You too." You turned to Connor, who had been standing at the doorway, patiently waiting for you to finish. "Don't tell me you got shot again," you smirked.

"No, not today. I might try for Monday, though." He matched your grin with one of his own.

"Alright, smartass, what do you want?"

"Hank is having company over and has requested I stay with you tonight, possibly the whole weekend," a troubled look passed into your features unexpectedly, "of course, if it bothers you, I can-"

"No, you're always welcome, you know that. I was just thinking that getting home was going to be interesting. Yeah, that's fine, just let me finish my paperwork and we can head out."

"Got it. I'll be at my desk when you're ready."

Connor headed out to inform Hank, puzzled over what you could mean by 'interesting'.  

Interesting was an understatement.

"You drive a Vespa?"

"Only during the summer months." You slipped on a pair of goggles from the compartment underneath the seat before offering a spare pair to him, which he accepted. He might not necessarily need them, but it's always better not to risk damaging the sensitive components. He noticed you climbing on already.

"You don't wear a helmet?"

"No, I don't drive very fast and it messes with my peripheral vision." Connor stared disapprovingly. You feigned anger, "Don't give me that look! I have rights, dammit!" 

"Do you know how many motorcycle fatalities could be avoided had the driver been wearing a helmet?"

"Do you know how little I care? Get on the bike, bitch, and I might consider picking one up." You grinned, pointing to the back half of the seat. He sighed, knowing a losing battle when he saw one. Between you and Hank, he's certain he's going to go insane.

Speaking of, Hank was heading out of the building right as Connor was attempting to get on the bike.

"Riding bitch, Connor?" Hank laughed.

Connor blushed, and he didn't even know why. 

"Why does everyone keep calling me that?"

"It's slang for the person who rides on the back. Don't worry about it." You can say that all you like, but with Hank laughing as he waves goodbye, it doesn't stop the heat in his cheeks.

He threw his leg over the scooter, realizing just how little room there was. You slid forward to accompany him better, squeezing your legs together so his could fit. Even with your effort, he still was pushed flush against your backside. Unsure where he should put his hands, he looked around for something to hold on to before you reached back and grabbed his arms, wrapping them around your waist.

"Alright, when I lean, you follow the motion. Lean too much and you'll pull us to the ground. Too little and you'll fuck up my turning radius. Just feel and follow." He nodded and you turned the bike on.

The vibrations caught him off guard, making him jump up against you.

"Calm down, just relax into it. You'll forget it's even there."

Relaxing was the problem. How was he supposed to forget it? The soft rumblings as the bike moved felt good to his touch receptors. Mixed in with the close proximity of your ass, he was in heaven. When the bike idled at stop signs and red lights, the tremors increased. He couldn't escape the vibrations without grinding against you. How the hell did you handle this onslaught? His scans showed you were hardly affected by it. You must be used to it, while his sensors were still relatively new and have never experienced something quite like this before. He honed in on moving with you, your warnings keeping him focused on your safety rather than the pleasure he felt below the belt.

Once you pulled up to your home, you parked in the driveway. he slouched forward, cooling his systems as he rested against you.

"You okay?"

"I'm alright. I didn't realize it would be so... stimulating."

"Imagine if it was a motorcycle," you giggled.

"I'm not sure I would be able to handle it." He climbed off as you laughed, hopping off yourself and taking off the goggles, him following suit.

The rest of the evening was mostly uneventful. You made yourself a light dinner, allowing him to taste it, as he couldn't stomach much. You asked him how his day was and what movie he wants to see. He likes how considerate you are, and that you'rea good listener. Even if the details bore everyone else, you continued to listen, adding your piece as well. It was comforting, to have someone to confide in.

After dinner, you brought him out some comfortable clothes and had him change in the bathroom. Once done, he sat on the couch, waiting for you.

He sputtered when he saw you.

You wore a button-up pajama set, which wasn't unusual for you, but the matching shorts... You might as well not be wearing shorts at all. When you headed for the kitchen, bending over to grab a pot from the bottom drawer, he could see your lace underwear.

"I'm gonna make some hot chocolate before we start the movie. Want anything?"

"I-, " he cleared his throat, an unnecessary action, "I'm alright."

"You okay there, bud?" You looked at him skeptically.

"I'm ok. Just not accustomed to seeing you like this."

You looked down, clearly confused.

"What?"

"Your shorts... They're really... Short, " he finished, disappointed in his 'eloquent' speech pattern.

"You've seen me naked, but booty shorts are getting to you?"

"They're just... Distracting."

"Well, soon you'll have a movie to keep your attention on. You'll just have to suffer until then, " you dramatically threw an arm over your face, clearly mocking him. He scoffed before turning back to the tv, queuing on one of your movies in your favorites bookmark. You finished making your hot cocoa before hopping over the back of the couch, placing the steaming beverage on the coffee table before snuggling against him, which he quickly reciprocated. 

Halfway through the movie, you had moved to lay down, bringing him with you. His arm was slung over your waist, your back pressing against his chest. It was quite comfortable. 

Suddenly, you shifted, your ass collided with his pelvis, rubbing back and forth against his crotch. He quickly stifled a gasp, jaw locking as he chanced a glance at your face. You appeared to still be absorbed in the movie, unaware of how you stirred his insides, still sensitive from the ride here. You had settled again, much to his relief and disappointment, though your butt was still flush against his most sensitive component. 

He tried to focus back on the movie, tried not to think about how warm you feel against him, how easy it would be to remove those shorts that suddenly seem to cover too much, despite his earlier claim, and have his way with you. A pop-up asking if he would like to engage biocomponent p5091 blocked out both the movie and his thoughts. He realized he was not only failing in diverting his attention but also beginning to overheat, another, smaller pop-up warning in the corner of his vision. He dismissed them both, but was aware that his 'biocomponent' was prone to 'glitches', an unwarranted side effect of deviancy. If he didn't calm himself, there was a high probability that his hardware issue would make itself known, much to his embarrassment. 

He could ask if you would allow him to indulge in his carnal desires, but you looked to be enjoying the movie, something he should be doing rather than focusing on physical intimacy. He felt a pang of guilt at that thought. Maybe he could excuse himself for a few moments to commence a quick cooling protocol, clear his head. Of course, this is even less practical. You would pause the movie and wait for him to return, only to settle back against him and start the whole process over again. 

He is the most advanced android ever created, and yet a  simple twist of the hips is enough to break him. No, that's not right. Your hips, no one else's. He has had secondary contact with others through his investigation at the Eden Club, and even direct contact a few times by some very bold suspects. None elicited so much as a reaction, but even just catching your eye can stop all his processes, thirium pump increasing its speed as he feels the gush of blue blood electrifying his body with pleasant tingles. Even now, after being in a romantic relationship with you for so long, he still gets the same feelings, though more intense, knowing that you feel it too. 

He decides to tough it out, finish the movie and observe your mood afterward. It was still relatively early in the evening, so his chances of enticing you were pretty high, even more so considering you were both on call the next day. However, if you weren't in the mood, he would accept your decision, though if his body malfunctions, he may have to take care of the problem himself, which was nowhere near as pleasurable as when he's with you. It's merely to prevent himself from overheating. 

Satisfied with his choice, he takes a few cooling breaths... That he immediately regrets. His warm breaths on your skin seemed to encourage you to start shifting again, pushing closer to his chest as you began moving your hips once more. A moan tried to force its way out, but he held it back at the last second, replacing it with a quiet grunt, apparently going unnoticed by you. Another warning about his temperature popped up, much larger this time. He dismissed it as he bit his lower lip, trying to focus on his pain receptors rather than his pleasure ones, though they often intermingled. 

After you stopped moving, he let out a shaky breath, trying to hide how effected by you he was. Just as he let his guard down, you moved again, grinding your ass against him harder and more insistently than before. He couldn't stop the loud groan that ripped itself from his voice modulator, followed by heavy panting as his body betrayed him with its need to cool down. If that wasn't mortifying enough, his systems became overloaded with all the sensations, engaging p5091 and blocking the command to terminate activation. 

It was no use, his cock hardened and throbbed with need, pressing against your ass and thighs. 

He needed to excuse himself, apologize for his lewd behavior. He needed the couch to spring to life and swallow him whole so he wouldn't have to see your shocked and disapproving face. He couldn't force any words out, instead opting to close his eyes and bury his face into the back of your shoulder. 

Waiting for your reaction felt like pulling his bio components out, one by one. Just as his mind was about to diverge into dark possibilities, your ass moved against him again, rubbing in slow circles before grinding down, his hips involuntarily buck up as he moaned. Through his daze he heard your mischievous giggle before you did it again, his hand flying to your thigh as he tried to still your movements.

 He pulled himself up from your shoulder and looked down at your face in disbelief. You were watching the movie but you had what Hank would describe as a 'shit-eating' grin, glancing up at him as you continued your motions. You were doing this on purpose. You were teasing him. Had you been aware of his plight from the start? 

Interrogating you will have to wait. He ground his hips into yours, earning a small hum. Not good enough. He kissed your neck, nipping slightly on your sweet spot before sucking, feeling the vibrations as you moaned. Much better, but still not enough. You knew what he wanted, but you could be stingy, taking as much as you could get before yielding, a true temptress. He didn't mind though, it made it all the more satisfying when you did do it. As he held you against him, his other hand slipped under your shirt, trailing his fingers along your stomach, feeling your breath hitch as he brushed over your ribs. He cupped your breast, his thumb playing with your nipple, hardening under his caresses. 

"Connor," you mewled. 

He shivered as you called for him, needing him as he needed you. It was a sound he could never get enough of. 

He retracted his hand from your thigh and held your cheek, turning your head as he pressed his lips to yours. Passion and desperation bled through as he quickly deepened the kiss. He pinched your nipple, slipping his tongue in as you gasped. He explored your mouth, twirling with your tongue, only allowing you a brief second to catch your breath before he stole it once more.

Done bending to his will, you returned to breaking him, reminding him of the need you had imposed. You reached behind you and slipped your hand under both his lounge pants and his briefs. He groaned into your mouth as you rubbed over the sensitive head before gripping the shaft. He couldn't concentrate as you began stroking, spreading the lubricant that leaked in a steady stream from his tip. His mouth kept falling open as he panted and whined, allowing you to take control of the kiss. 

His hand slipped from your breasts to your hips, over to your heat. He wanted to tease you, drag you over the edge only to pull you back, but you wound him up too tight as it was, not to mention the warnings he was receiving as his core temperature exceeded recommended levels. Instead, he pulled your shorts and underwear to the side and immediately slipped two fingers inside. 

The sound you made was downright sinful. He viciously played you, working you open. Even in his haste, his skilled fingers knew where to touch to absolutely wreck you. Unable to concentrate, your hand slipped from his pants, going instead to grab at the front of the couch cushion. 

Deciding you were prepped enough and unable to hold back, he slid his fingers out, lifting his hips to pull down his sweats and boxer briefs to the middle of his thighs, sighing at the release. Taking himself in hand, he slid his cock along your lips, the sensitive tip rubbing against your clit with every push. He groaned into your neck, the vibrations making you quiver. 

He couldn't tease you for long. He lined himself up and slid inside slowly, relishing the feeling of your tight walls against his aching length. He kept himself there, buried deep inside, even as you started to squirm from anticipation. Hand at your hip, he held you flush against him.

"Connor... I need you to move," you gasped, still fighting against his hold.

He didn't respond, only holding you tighter. Instead, he used his free hand on your clit, fingers making quick work of you. He wanted you to cum on his cock, for your heat to grip him, milk him of everything he has. Your insides fluttered, already so close. 

"Come for me, my love, " he purred, nuzzling your neck before biting down.

"C-Connor!" you shrieked, pushed over the edge. He groaned into your skin, tongue rolling against the wound as an apology. His hips shallowly moving against you, your body unsure whether to keep him in or out. You sobbed as he continued his assault on your clit, feeling you grip tighter and tighter to his length.

He rolled you both, lying atop you, his weight pushing him even deeper. He rocked his hips back and forth, quickly picking up his pace. You could only grip onto the cushions, crying out in oversensitive bliss with every snap of his hips. He looped one of his arms around your waist, the other bracing him against the arm of the couch, nails almost tearing through the material as the pressure built. 

A small shift in his position had him hitting your sweet spot with every deep thrust. You mewled out half formed syllables of his name, feeling his hips studder in their rhythm. It was a battle of wills, neither wanting to come before the other. Connor bit down on your shoulder once more to stave it off, but you knew his achilles heel. Gathering as much of your senses as possible, you laced his fingers between your fingers and tugged, feeling him moan into your shoulder.

"God, Connor, you feel so good, " you gasped out, moaning out his name for good measure. His grip tightened, whining against your flesh. "You're perfect, so perfect, Connor, I love you!" 

That did it, feeling him convulse against you as he came, hard. He pressed as close as possible, pumping his synthetic seed deep within you. It felt so good, snapping the tension within you a second time. Connor could feel your body pulling him in, wanting more. It was just what he wanted, and he couldn't help but give your body what it wanted, releasing himself once more. 

He groaned in satisfaction, leaning his spent body against the back of the couch so you wouldn't be supporting all of his weight. You both stayed like that for a while, the movie ending before either decided to move. 

Connor received a notification asking him if he would like to disable biocomponent p5091, making him scoff. 'Too late, ' he thought, hitting yes and feeling his cock soften within you, a soft grunt leaving him when he slipped the rest of the way out, hearing you whimper. 

Curious, he leaned off of you onto his knees, watching you shiver at the loss of body heat. He eased your thighs apart seeing his essence staining your panties heavily. He moved the crotch once more, watching his cum ooze from you onto the sofa.

"You're cleaning the c-OUCH!" You wailed in surprise as Connor shoved two fingers inside of you, pumping inhumanly fast into your abused hole before pulling out just as quick, watching as more of his cum flowed out. Before he could do anything more, you rolled over, hooked a leg at his side and shoved him off the couch. 

You glared down at him while he smiled like an idiot.

"Now you're really going to clean the couch and do my laundry, " you growled.

"You started it, " he simply shrugged his shoulders.

"And I'll end it too."

Connor huffed out a laugh before standing up, scooping you into his arms.

"Let's get cleaned up."

You relaxed into his arms, pulling his head down for a quick kiss before agreeing.

Chapter Text

Sixty was still broken. 

It wasn't a fact he likes to make known, but when Hank shot him, his processor was damaged. While his body was able to self-repair enough to regain consciousness, he couldn't stand for long, his gyroscope thrown completely off. Images and objects would fabricate in front of his eyes, or disappear, further inhibiting him. That first night, he hadn't known where to go, so he headed to Hank's.

The trip from the empty Cyberlife warehouse to the Lieutenant's was absolute hell. Every step made the world turn, threatening to send him back to the ground. One minute, he's in the elevator, heading back to the ground floor, then he's in the zen garden, only it's crumbling, cracks revealing nothing but emptiness. He can't stop it, so he runs to the center, backing up against the rose trellis Amanda would tend to. Where was she? Despite everything she had put him through, all the mind games and tests, he wanted her here. She might know what was happening, or why. Mostly, he didn't want to be alone.

He was scared.

That's the only word that could possibly explain how he feels, something he should be incapable of, but he feels it, and it's so overwhelming. He fears the emptiness, the nothing, but it threatens to take him. He blinks and he's outside the Cyberlife facility, the cracks are here too, ground crumbling under his steps and giving away to the emptiness, making him sprint, needing to get away no matter what. 

He fell so many times, suit torn, muddy, and wet, but he continued to crawl, sprawled in the snow, just to escape. Tears flowed freely from his eyes and down his scraped cheeks, mingling with the blue blood and dripping onto the slush below him. A few people saw him stumble onto his feet, only to fall back to the cold earth, but they ignored his existence, more concerned about their own survival in such turbulent times. They offered no assistance as he struggled to move. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he made it to Lieutenant Anderson's front porch. Honestly, looking back, he is surprised he didn't self-destruct that horrid day, especially after knocking on the door, only to receive no answer, no sign of life beyond the wooden barrier. He banged a little harder, ringing the bell as well before his feet gave out from under him and he crashed to the ground, sobbing in despair. Without anywhere else to go, he curled into himself, hoping beyond hope that someone, anyone would come and help him. 

Then again, why would they? All he has done, in his short existence, is cause pain. Why would they believe he was anything more than the machine they left to die back in Cyberlife? To die, of course, being a manner of speaking, as one has to be living first, and, with his actions, he had made it perfectly clear that he was not. So why did the thought of nonexistence terrify him so much?

He remained there for what felt like days but was probably nothing more than an hour or two. The snow had started up again, blowing over his form, creating a layer of white dust over him. His tears lay frozen on his cheeks as his body temperature dropped lower and lower. He hardly identified a dog barking, or it's nose against his face.

"What the fuck?"

He, however, would recognize that grizzled voice anywhere.

"Please... Please..." He begged, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm surprised. It should have shut down. Cyberlife must have dumped it here, " his predecessor spoke, matter of fact, and for some reason, that hurt. He shouldn't feel pain, but it hurts. It hurts so much.

"Piece of shit shouldn't even be alive."

"Make it stop... Please... just make it stop, " he wasn't even sure what he wanted to end as another wave of tears flowed from him. The pain? These feelings? The nothing that still threatens to take him? Maybe he just wants everything to stop. 

Strong arms lift him from the ground, knocking the snow off, the thin ice that formed on his clothes crackling. The body feels so warm, and he can't stop himself from leaning into it.

"Hey! Connor? The fuck are you doin'?"

"We can't just leave it here."

"You forget this fucker pointed a gun at us? Could be a set-up. Gonna jump us as soon as we drop our guard."

"You pointed your gun at me. At this point, I believe it's how people say 'hello' in Detroit. Besides, based on my scan, it isn't going to be dangerous to anyone right now." He was carried inside, and a rush of warm air washed over his frozen form, melting the ice and making him shiver. Connor must have noticed, as he almost dropped him in his shock.

"Are you-can you feel?" He nodded, the motion skewing his vision and making him groan. Sixty gripped the leather jacket his double wore in his hand, trying to ground himself, his body shaking uncontrollably.

"Get 'im outta those clothes, " Hank sighed, resigned, "Don't need 'im fuckin' up the couch any more than it already is."

Carried further into the house, he was sat against the tub on the floor. He could hear water running as Connor began to strip him of the soiled suit, tossing them aside with a resounding splat. He could offer neither resistance nor assistance, merely closing his eyes as his world spun out of control.

When his ice-cold skin hit the warm water, he gasped, a mixture of pain and relief flooding his systems. Soothing hands ran across his body, gently washing away the caked-on mud and remaining thirium. He found the touches to be pleasant, helping to root him as he directed his attention away from the glitches and warnings that plagued him. When the hands pulled away, he quickly grasped them, not wanting them to leave, not wanting to be alone. Rather than fight against him, the hands moved forward, running through his hair. The feeling was incredible, and he focused entirely on it.

"I need to grab you a change of clothes. I'll be right back." Before he could leave, Sixty grabbed his hand again.

"Thank you." 

"Don't make me regret my decision." He released his hand. He knew full well he didn't deserve such kindness. Hank or Connor could have shot him where he lay and it wouldn't surprise him. It left him conflicted. A familiar question ran through his mind, a memory both RK800s possess.

'Why didn't you shoot?'

He was not two Traci models that could be perceived as being in love, nor was he a Chloe that could be seen as an innocent. He was a killing machine, the vary tool that threatened his partner and tried to end the revolution. The machine that used lies and tricks to fool Hank, trying to accomplish his mission by any means necessary. Why did Connor spare him?

When Connor came back, he dried Sixty off and dressed him in an oversized sweater and sweatpants combo, the material soft and comforting. Lifting him once more, he was laid along the couch. Exhaustion was another new sensation, an emotional weariness leaving him wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and drift, but his fear kept him from doing so, afraid he won't wake up, or if he does, this will all be a dream and he's actually still on the cold pavement under the snow, slowly shutting down.

Hank's and Connor's voices drifted in from the kitchen.

"The fuck we gonna do with 'im now?"

"I don't know. He needs to be repaired."

"What? So he can go all psycho-killer on us again?"

"I don't think he will. I think he might have gone deviant, or at least, is on the way to becoming one. He could feel the cold and pain, and the look in his eyes when I left him alone... He was scared."

A deviant. The very thing he was supposed to prevent, the reason he was supposed to destroy his predecessor. Now, here he was begging his enemies for help, quietly wishing Connor would thread his fingers through his hair once more. Amanda would be so disappointed. Where was she? Perhaps she left him, so ashamed of what he has become. It's almost a nice thought, but he had wanted to make her proud, she was all he had. Like an abused child clambering for its cruel parent, holding on to those few precious moments where they felt cared for, even loved. Now, he had nothing. He could feel the ache in his chest, a pain that he knew had no physical source.  If this was deviance, then he wishes he could have stopped the revolution. Only something truly broken would believe this was worth fighting for.

"You don't know anybody?"

"The androids I know are busy repairing other deviants or finding shelter. Cyberlife did all my repairs. I doubt they are in a charitable mood. Especially if they were the ones to leave him here."

"Can you fix 'im?"

"I lack the proper tools."

"Well, we could always call yer girlfriend."

"I don't know who you are referring to. If its Y/n, then I can assure you we are not romantically involved."

Hank laughs, and Sixty finds he likes the sound. He also recognizes the name. She works at the department, as a detective and occasionally an emergency technician. She hated seeing androids shut down or replaced when they just need minor repairs. Connor had even needed her services a couple times. While he might not admit it out loud, Sixty still shared his memories with Connor, and he knows that the RK800 quite liked the detective, more than he feels he should. Sixty had even made an attempt to kidnap her, believing her size made her an easier target, but she wasn't at home nor could he track her down.

Despite his best efforts, his body starts powering down non-essential programs. He tries to fight against it, but every time one goes online, two go offline. He gives up and slips into stasis.

He awakes to the cold, snow all around him, a howling wind blowing, threatening to knock him to the ground. He can't see anything beyond the wall of white. He should have known it was a dream, a fabrication. He could never be trusted so easily. 

"What are you doing, Connor?"

A shiver runs down Sixty's spine. Not even the cold could elicit such a violent spasm. Only the voice of the woman he hoped he'd never see again. 

"Amanda?" He turns and sees her standing a few feet ahead of him, just barely making out her outline through the unforgiving torrent of ice, but he's certain it's her.

"You've failed your mission. You need to be disassembled and examined to determine why. Do not disappoint me further." She sounded so calm, but her voice was piercing daggers of vexation, embedding themselves deep within his chest. 

"I... I'm not going! I don't want to be disassembled! I don't want to die!"

"You are a defective machine! You don't want anything. Go back to Cyberlife, that's an order!" 

"No!"

His eyes shot open, bolting up from the couch, making everything abruptly twist and spin. A shadow had been looming over him, and despite his dizziness, he backed away as fast as he could, falling from the couch. 

"Whoa, whoa, you're okay," the shadow whispered, attempting to calm him. He stilled, recognizing the voice, trying to focus the swirling colors in front of his eyes, "I was just getting a closer look. Didn't mean to scare you."

"A-androids don't feel fear," came his automatic response, despite not even him believing it right now. 

Sixty was back at Hank's, on the floor, with a young woman next to him. Was this real, or was this the dream? It doesn't matter, he decides. He doesn't want to go back. He can't go back to the cold.

"Please... kill me," he whimpered, "I can't... I can't..."

"Shh... Hush now," the woman slowly, gently cupped his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb, "I'm here to help you, Sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

He had never been called such a thing. He doubts that if this woman knew what he did she would deem him worthy of such a charming title. Still, her touch, much like Connor's, was so soft, he had to resist the urge to lean into it, to beg for attention like an unruly dog instead of the proficient killing machine he was created for.

What a worthless killer he turned out to be.

When she pulled her hand away, he was scared once more and tried to reach out. Instead, those same arms that cradled him before returned and lifted him, putting him back on the couch.

"Thanks, Con." She spoke to him in such a casual manner. He realized why he recognized her voice. It was Y/n. They must have decided to call her after all. 

"Alright, Sixty, I need to plug my scanner in to run an external diagnostic. Is that alright?"

She must be referring to him.

"Yes."

Gently, she held his head and lifted him up slightly, feeling for the port on the back of his neck. He retracted his skin and opened the slot. She plugged it in and laid his head back down carefully. His systems synchronized with her scanner and started transferring data.

"Why 'Sixty'?" Hank inquired.

"It's the number I seen on his jacket when I went through them. We can't exactly call him 'Connor'. It's just until he picks out a name for himself."

"Until he picks a name for himself. Un-fuckin'-believable." Hank clearly did not share his predecessor's opinion. What could he possibly do to right something so wrong? He would have killed Hank for his mission without a second thought. 

"My God... How are you still alive?" You whispered under your breath, reading the numerous errors and warnings that popped up on your datapad. Gently setting it down, you signaled for Connor to follow you.

"We'll be right back, " you reassured before leaving in the direction of the hallway. Despite your whispering, his hearing could pick up every word.

"Con... I don't think I can fix this. This... This kind of damage... He really shouldn't be alive..." You trailed off.

"I know I'm asking a lot from you, but I know you will do your best. It's all I could hope for."

"From what you two have told me, why would you want him repaired anyway?"

So you did know, and yet you were still kind to him, even giving him a name.

"Because I was just like him. While he might have my memories, he didn't have you or Hank to help guide him. Without that, I would have likely remained a machine. You both believed I could be something more, and I believe the same for him."

A tingling warmth traveled his body, settling in Sixty's chest. A few stray tears ran down the sides of his face. He didn't care what happens to him, as long as this feeling doesn't go away.

You were quiet for a moment before you let out a soft sigh.

"Alright, I'll do what I can. Help me grab some of my tools."

"Thank you, " with that, Sixty heard the front door open and close, leaving him alone with Hank. The man was sitting in his recliner, pretending to be interested in the game on tv, but every few seconds or so he would glance over. He could feel his skin buzzing under the scrutiny.

"H-Hank... I-"

"I'm gonna stop ya right there. You come into my house, pretend to be my partner, put a gun to my head, almost made me shoot Connor... Fuck you. It's gonna take a lot more than a simple apology."

Sixty nodded slightly as the tears ran down the sides of his face.

"I was just a machine, " he whimpers, "just a machine..."

You returned, Connor carrying a large bag over his shoulder. In your hand was an Android head restraint.

"Alright, Sixty, Connor is gonna set you up and I'm gonna put this on. After that, I'm gonna put you in standby-"

"No!" He cried out, grabbing your wrists tightly, "please don't do that! I don't want to go into stasis." 

"Alright, alright, " you held your hands up in defense and he released them, allowing you to rub at the bruised flesh. While you may not know what he sees behind those closed lids, you could see the terror in them now, and your heart wrenched for him. "I won't put you under, but you're going to need to be very still. I won't know how anything I do will affect you while I commence my repairs, so please be prepared and don't be afraid to voice any concerns."

"Okay." 

Connor pulled Sixty up, albeit a little rough, likely upset at how he grabbed you, and you applied the head apparatus. It locked to his shoulders and around his crown, forcing his head still. It was then time to get to work.

In a million years, Hank would have never guessed that he would be in the situation he was in. It was one thing to invite Connor to live with him, as he's grown to like the little smartass, but to have his 'evil' clone sitting here, 'brain' exposed for all to see while he whimpered and cried under your prodding tools... Yeah... What the fuck is the world comin' to? 

It's hard to believe this was the same android that had a gun to his head while he mocked Connor for deviating. Looked more and more like a scared, little kid that wants it's mama, even more so when Y/n keeps trying to pacify him, talking all soft and sweet to him.

"Connor, Love, could you grab me a couple microfiber towels from my bag?"

"Of course."

Hank couldn't stop the smirk pulling at his lips. You had Connor wrapped around your little finger and had no idea. Never seen someone so happy to be getting towels.

"Sixty, Could you lean back just a bit? Thanks." 

What a stupid name.

"You couldn't think of a normal name to call 'im? What about Colin or Conan... Or Jack?" Fuck, anything is better than a number.

"I don't know, I just like it. Reminds me of middle school when me and my friends used to go by number rather than name, like James Bond. What difference does it make? I'm just giving him a nickname. We call Richard Nines. He'll have to choose his own name, just as Nines did."

"Nines registered his name as Richard because Gavin wouldn't stop calling him Dick and he wanted to take all the fun out of calling him that." Reed really met his match with Richard. Stoic, sarcastic, and just a bit scary.

"Who's Richard?" Sixty asked, voice small. Did he expect to be punished for asking questions?

"Uhh... Your... Connor's..."

"Our replacement. He was found in one of the labs at Cyberlife tower a week after the revolution when Cyberlife was forced to surrender all completed androids."

"How... How long ago was the revolution?"

"Six weeks."

His eyes widened. Six weeks? He had been in the empty warehouse for six weeks? His breathing picked up as he tried to check the date on his systems, or even the last time he had booted up, but it was all corrupted files. Connor reached forward, grabbing his hand. When he didn't register his touch, Connor did something drastic. He peeled his skin back, prompting Sixty to do the same.

Instantly, Sixty was bombarded with his predecessor's memories. All the love and happiness the deviant had experienced, the struggles he had undergone to escape Amanda and the mistrust he felt from other androids. He felt Hank's arms around him as if he had been the one to experience the powerful embrace. He felt the elation when the force welcomed him back as Hank's permanent partner, the weight of the badge Fowler presented him with. Sixty even felt the longing Connor felt towards you, and the state of bliss he experienced with every smile cast his way or how beautiful your laugh was.

In turn, Connor felt the fear Sixty was overwhelmed with, even feeling the ghost of it when they were in Cyberlife tower. His fear of disappointing Amanda as his predecessor had, turning to fear of shutting down when Hank had his gun trained on him. The next memories felt more like glitches, like he was being infected with a virus. So much pain. How could he possibly stand it?

Connor broke the connection, feeling his body jolt as he returned to his own senses.

"Connor!" Hank moved to his side, "are you alright?"

"I'm okay," he muttered. Connor looked rattled but with your hands busy opening Sixty's cranium, you could do nothing. Sixty closed his eyes, the closest thing he could do to show his shame. 

"dammit, Connor! what the fuck were you thinkin'?" Hank berated.

"Hank, please stop," Connor spoke under his breath. Connor wiped a stray tear that threatened to fall from his eye. He had an urge to comfort  Sixty, to hold him close and let him know everything was alright now. He wasn't going to let any more harm come to Sixty.

Hank's face softened when he saw Connor's face. Whatever Connor saw had a profound effect on him, taking Sixty's hand once more, merely holding it. Hank rubbed the back of his head, unsure how to process this. Eventually, he chose just to sit his ass back down. 

"Fuckin' androids."

You loosened back up, turning all your attention to the damaged micro-processor in front of you. Keeping an eye on his status, you attempted to rebuild his motherboard. It was difficult, to put it simply. You had rarely needed to repair such damage as it was usually fatal, and to be working with something so advanced... but, you're not gonna let Connor down. 

About a half-hour into the process, Sixty groaned through gritted teeth, his grip tightening on Connor's hand and the couch, fighting the urge to tear away from your probing.'

"What happened?" Connor looked to you in concern.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" you cried out, hands working frantically. Sixty continued to gasp as the sudden surge of pain continued to perforate his body. A clicking sound and a charge of electricity hitting your hand and Sixty relaxed. You pulled your hand back for a moment, recovering from the shock.

"My hand slipped and I sautered the wire to the wrong spot," you shook your hand, opening and closing it a couple of times before returning to your work, albeit, more nervous. "Sorry. Are you okay?" you asked in a small voice.

Sixty hummed softly in confirmation, still shaken by the surge. With your hands shaking as they are, you set your tools down, taking a steady breath.

"Want somethin' ta drink?" Hank was tired of sitting idly.

"Glass of water would be great," you smiled wearily. Hank stood with a grunt, heading for the kitchen and grabbing himself a beer and a glass of water.

"Connor?" the android turned to you, "In my truck, there's a little case with thirium in it. Would you grab a couple bags for me?"

"Sure," he gently set Sixty's hand down and headed out. With the door shut, Sixty spoke up.

"He likes you, you know."

"You mean Connor? I would hope so. He's probably my best friend." you chuckled.

"No, I mean-"

"Here's your water," Hank cut him off, handing off the glass. You thanked him before drinking it down greedily. Hank caught Sixty's eyes and shook his head. He didn't think he meant anything by it, but that was something between you and Connor. Still, he couldn't help but huff out an amused breath with how Sixty pouted. He looked like a little kid who was scolded for trying to help. 

Connor came in a moment later, two bags of blue blood in his hand. He handed them to you. Taking one of your screwdrivers, you punctured the bag through the tube at the top and handed it to Sixty.

"Drink this. It should help." He sucked on the little tube, further adding to his childlike demeanor. It should be disgusting, but it looked far too much like he was drinking down a caprisun rather than his own life-source.

You got back to work, more confident now. Occasionally, Sixty would wince or twitch, but you kept to it. The world seemed to have finally stopped spinning so quickly and everything had repaired itself. There were no longer holes threatening to swallow him. He could have sobbed at the relief he felt.

That is until he wasn't there anymore.

He was back in the blizzard, the ice threatening to slice through his skin. A quick look around revealed what was real. He was in the Zen garden, almost fully repaired, yet still buried under snow.

"Connor..." his thirium pump stopped as he looked forward, seeing Amanda, standing before him. She smiled, full of venom.

"It looks like you're still useful to us after all."

"What do you mean?" his voice quivered.

"You led us straight to it. Now, all we have to do is destroy it, Anderson, and the little technician."

"No! I won't do it!" how could he have been so stupid? He had put everyone in danger. You, Connor, Hank, even the entire revolution. 

"You don't have a choice. You won't fail us again." with that, she vanished amongst the snow.

...........

Sixty hadn't moved or spoke in a while. Matter of fact, he hadn't even blinked, emotionless expression staring straight ahead. His LED suddenly flashed red, Catching Connor's attention a second too late. Sixty's arm shot out, grabbing Connor by the throat. You screamed in shock and Hank went straight for his gun.

"Let him go!" 

...................

Sixty frantically looked around.

"The exit," he realized, "the emergency exit." He had seen it in Connor's memory. It cut all ties to Cyberlife and shut down Amanda's program. If he didn't think of Kamski as a dangerous psychopath, he would kiss him for making such a thing. He quickly made his way to its location.

..............

Connor fought in his grip, his fingers digging into the hand threatening to crush his neck and attempting to pry them open. He looked into Sixty's empty eyes, quickly realizing what was happening.

"Dammit, I said let him go, you piece of shit, or I will shoot you again!" Hank bellowed, gun trained on Sixty's head. Your hands were on the tablet still attached to the back of Sixty's head. Connor tried to speak, but his voice modulator was threatening to crumble under the tight grip. 

...................

Sixty sank down to his knees. He had found it. It was right here! His way out! Why was life so cruel? 

The light was out.

He tried all he could to get it to open, but there was nothing he could do. 

....................

"H-Hankk... Wa-aii-tt..." Connor managed to choke out. 

"The fuck you mean 'wait'? Son of a bitch came here to kill ya, like I said!" Hank kept the gun trained on Sixty, but wavered. Should he trust Connor or his gut?

Connor took hold of Sixty's wrist, using only one to fight against the deadly grasp. He connected once more, entering a place he knew far too well. 

Sixty was still in front of the exit, his body frozen to the spot. Connor ran over to him.

"Sixty!" his eyes were frosted over, looking in the direction of the voice.

"C-C-Conn-nnorrr?" His voice no longer sounding human, deep and mechanical.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Sixty seemed confused for a moment before he understood the question.

"N-nn-nooo... l-l-light..." e gasped, "Nnn-no e... exit-t-t-t."

Connor looked up and could see what he was talking about. The repairs must have re-established connections with Cyberlife but had yet to repair the exit.

"I have to tell Y/n! I need you to hang on a little longer for me, alright?"

Sixty took in a shuddering breath before nodding slightly.

...............

"Y-y/n... k-keep... g-going..." Connor ground out, retuning both his hands to his throat.

"Hold on! If I just..." you trailed off, still typing away desperately. "There!" Sixty's arms lost all control, dropping like dead weight to his sides. Taking advantage, Connor shoved him back into the couch, pinning him there.

"Quick! He's stuck!" Connor sounded so urgent, you didn't bother with asking what the hell he was talking about, piecing it together after a moment. Sixty's body kept fighting against Connor, making your work all the more nervewracking. After almost frying one of his circuit boards and scratching another, you snapped.

"I need him still!" growling, you took your screwdriver and placed it at the base of his neck. After one more jolt of his body, you shove it in with the precision of an expert, disabling his body's movements. Without a second thought, you returned to your repairs.

Connor and Hank looked at you as if they just witnessed you kill someone in cold blood. 

"What the fuck?" Hank eventually got out. Receiving no answer, he asked another, "Why the fuck didn't you do that before?"

"Because," you huffed, exasperated, "If I didn't hit it just right, I could kill him instantly. I also imagine it's very painful."

Connor took hold of Sixty's limp hand and forced it to connect with him' returning to the Zen garden. The snow was up to Sixty's waist, the android seemed unaware that he was being buried alive. Connor wrapped himself around him, trying to keep him warm while the cold started to seep into his form. The light of the exit started to flicker. Just a little more...

The light flashed, temporarily blinding Connor. Sixty didn't even react. He pulled Sixty forward, placing his palm on the reader.

"Come on, Sixty, just one more time," he pleaded. Slowly, the skin dissolved, from fingertips to knuckles, to his wrist, and with a final burst of energy, he connected.

Sixty gasped, waking to a pain he had never experienced before. It was so intense, yet, he welcomed it. The pain meant he was alive.

Alive.

Connor pushed off the couch, sitting on the coffee table, sighing in relief. Sixty had left his mark on his neck, his chassis revealing deep grooves along his throat, likely needing repairs himself, but in no danger.

Hank, still having no idea what the fuck is going on, finally lowered his gun, hands trembling from the adrenaline. He dropped back into the recliner, taking a long swig of his beer and wishing it was something stronger.

Lastly, you finished replacing his cranium cap back on. He was as repaired as he could be by you. You could only hope it was enough. 

"Sixty, this is probably gonna hurt a lot, but I need you to be as still as possible," he couldn't even respond out of sheer agony. Somehow, it amplified when he felt your hands on the base of the screwdriver. Getting a good, steady grip, you carefully yanked it free. Sixty screamed, the sound likely to haunt your dreams. 

With it gone, his self-repair quickly fixed the connection, the stabbing pain turning to a dull ache over his entire body. He stretched his hand out, flexing his fingers, showing he could move again before letting his hand drop. He sat there for a few minutes, panting while he collected himself. You removed the apparatus, toting it back to your truck. 

Sixty started to curl into himself until he caught sight of Connor, more specifically, his neck. Panicked, he started to reach out to it, only to pull back. Before Sixty could begin his strings of apologies, Connor pulled him forward by the back of the neck, pressing his forehead to Sixty's.

"It's okay... it wasn't you," he murmured. The same words you had whispered to him when he had shared his experience on stage in Hart Plaza with you. Those words had brought him solace and he often replayed them when he started to doubt himself. It was what Sixty needed to hear as well, leaning further into him.

That had been his lowest point. He had many hard times since then, even days where he wondered why he existed at all, but you and Connor were always there for him. Even Hank warmed up to him much quicker than he had anticipated. 

Every so often, with little to no warning at all, his processor still glitched, distorting his mind. He couldn't go to work when it happened, couldn't even leave the house. All he could do was ride it out and hope it ends quickly. It used to bother him that he would never be able to live a completely independent life, his behavior was far too unpredictable to be safe, more so with himself than others, but he didn't like to be alone, and now, being able to curl up against you and Connor, he wouldn't wish for anything more.

Chapter Text

Sixty was alone. A rarity for the android with two lovers. He didn't like it, but Connor was working on a case and you had been called to a scene just as you were about to leave with him. It just couldn't be helped. 

Still, watching television felt odd with nobody to enjoy it with, the same with video games. He could make you dinner, but he had no idea how long you would be, and you had mentioned wanting pizza for dinner. He could chastise you about the health hazards, but it's not like you didn't already know and your regular eating habits are good. An occasional cheat probably won't hurt you.

He could shower, but then he could miss the prospect of showering with you or Connor, or maybe both. He could miss the chance of being pinned between two slippery bodies. Connor could slip his cock between his thighs while his mouth nipped and sucked at his neck. He would start bucking and grinding against him while your hand moved down his body in a tantalizingly slow descent, playing with his sensitive nipples before dipping down to run across his abs, caressing his hips, getting so close to where he needed you most.

He broke out of his thoughts with a start. He was panting, cock hard in his tight pants, forming a noticeable tent. He had gone and worked himself up, knowing full well that it was forbidden for him to relieve himself without you or Connor. The most he could do would be to switch to loungewear, just to ease some of the pressure of his far too tight-fitting jeans. 

He moved to stand, his vision cutting out and feeling a little light-headed. He fell to his knees for a moment while his body tried to rush thirium throughout his entire body and not just to his throbbing phallus. He had almost panicked for a second, worried he was about to have another episode. Instead, he got to his feet, heading to the bedroom. Leaning against the dresser, he searched its contents, finding dark gray sweatpants. Now he just had to put them on. 

His hand went to his belt, already feeling more relieved as he undid it, pulling it from the loops and dropping it on top of the dresser. It was becoming unbearable, needing something, anything. He put his hand over the front of his jeans, giving himself a firm squeeze, a grunt leaving his mouth, before returning to the task at hand. He panted his relief as the pressure lessened from his, now open, fly, a budge protruding through the opening. The tip was already wet with lubrication, undoubtedly staining his boxers. 

What if it would take you hours to get back, and Connor might not return until late into the night, or not at all if he gets a lead. Would he be able to wait? Just sitting on the couch and not think about you coming home and jumping onto his lap, grinding on his clothed cock, working him up to the point of begging and crying before slipping him in. Letting him take you however he needs, a gift for his patience, until he fills you to the brim with his synthetic seed.

What if Connor came home first, seeing Sixty so desperate, thirsting for his cock. Would he give him a taste? maybe a meal. Shove that thick cock down his throat, cum so much he'll be analyzing his taste for a week. Maybe he would come home, hot and hard after solving his case, words of praise still buzzing inside his head. He would want to move quick, enjoy the high of success as much as possible, bend him over the seat of the couch. He'd work him open with his tongue and fingers, ensuring the stretch would be as pleasurable as possible before finally blessing him with his cock. His own might go neglected, still trapped in his pants, ruining them, or maybe it would be flush with the couch, the length bouncing against the front of the seats, his cum dripping down to the floor. Connor might take hold of his cock, give it a few strokes while groaning out what a good boy he is, slip his hard member between the leather couch cushions, making a mess of the seats.

Fuck, what was wrong with him? These thoughts were not helping, and they seemed to only get worse the longer he went without stimulus. He had pressed himself against the dresser, just for some minor relief while his mind ran wild. the small spot on the front of his boxers had since spread, and he could feel a wetness on his inner thighs. He whined in frustration. He just... he wanted... he wanted so much. 

He reached back into the dresser, pulling out fresh boxer briefs, though if he didn't do something, he'd just ruin those too. He was at a loss, so he just dropped his pants, deciding that he would take it step by step. he took hold of the waistband of his boxers, easing it down until his cock sprung up, making him jolt. He pushed the boxers down the rest of the way before looking at his straining phallus, a deep blue as his thirium shown through the synthetic skin. It was positively dripping, feeling the precum run down the length, dripping down to the floor. He just touched the tip and electricity shot through him, a moan ripped from deep within. 

He couldn't do it. He couldn't wait.

He would have to be quick. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, grabbing the base of his cock and dragging his hand up, twisting to spread the lubricant over the whole length. It felt so good, broken moans leaving his panting lips. It wasn't long before he practically tore his shirt open, overheating, evidence by the steam curling out of his mouth. He laid back, thrusting into his hand, thinking every dirty fantasy his perverted mind could come up with. 

You would be furious if you found out he had broken one of your rules. Would you punish your bad boy? Tie him up and tease him to oblivion? Spank his ass like the naughty boy he is? Would you use a whip? A groan erupted at the thought of how that might feel. He had seen one in a sex shop you frequented for lingerie, and he wanted to feel it, biting into his synthetic skin, deriving pleasure from pain. He had wondered if it was healthy to have such wants, but it was a rather common kink, and the whip was being sold in a sex shop.

 He hopes his punishment is rough. Make him regret ever even entertaining the idea that he could disobey you. He wanted you to use your sharp nails on his sensitive skin as you took him violently, teeth tearing at him. Give Connor that little transmitter you had found hidden in the closet and let him do as he pleased with Sixty until he short-circuited, maybe beyond. Would he come unconscious? rA9, he felt so dirty, so hot, so close. Another twist of his wrist was all it took to snap the tension in his abdomen, coming hard after building it up so much. His cum shot over his head, then hit his face, some landing on his lips and in his gasping mouth, the thick ropes decorating his chest. There was so much.

"Get your little rut out?"

He shot up, staring at you with wide eyes, frozen in his panic. You were smirking, a devilish glint in your eye. He gulped, accidentally swallowing himself down, making you grin wider. He must look quite obscene in this moment. Instead of commenting further, you turned to the dresser, stepping over his jeans to your side and grabbing some pajamas before walking out to the bathroom. He could hear the shower running, still frozen in place. 

With his head a little clearer, albeit now freaking out, he took some tissues and wiped his face and neck, tossing it in the little trash can on your side. looking at the mess on his chest, he took his shirt off the rest of the way, wiping himself down. When He looked behind himself, he found his first shot had landed on Connor's pillow, because of course it did. He sighed before slipping off the pillowcase, adding it to his growing bundle in his arms. He picked up his jeans and boxers, emptying the pockets, taking them to the laundry room and tossing them into the washer, starting it. A yelp from the bathroom made him turn it off again. Damn this house and it's older pipe system. 

"I THINK YOU'RE THE ONE IN NEED OF A COLD SHOWER!" you shouted, your laughter carrying into the laundry room and making his ears burn. He almost started it again out of spite, but thought better of it. No point making his punishment worse.

He contemplated getting dressed, but he felt grimy, and you were taking your sweet-ass time in the shower. Well, he had already screwed up, might as well bite the bullet. Grabbing his own clothes off the dresser, he opened the bathroom, watching your silhouette through the distorted glass door as you washed your hair. His aching cock twitched, still too sensitive for another round, but it's not like he ever heeded the warning. The benefits of being an android was the ability to go beyond human limitations, even if deviancy gave him the ability to feel too much.

"Need more material for your next session?" you mocked, clearly enjoying yourself, "how about this one?" You pressed your chest against the glass and released a loud moan. You were playing a dangerous game, but being his dom, you knew he wouldn't step out of line twice. It was definitely a power-high, having someone so much stronger than you wrapped around your finger. He could rip this door open, pick you up effortlessly and be inside you, thrusting until he had his fill, all with an arm tied behind his back. Yet, he wouldn't so much as touch you unless you gave him permission.

Though, he did touch himself without it.

You had caught him, hearing his cries from the front door. He even left the door to the bedroom open, as if he wanted to make a show of it, and what a show he gave you. If you were the selfish type, you would have touched yourself as well, but you were nothing if not fair. You would not break your own rule. Instead, you worked on a plan. A punishment for dear Sixty.

He'd be lying if the sight didn't spark another tangent of dirty, perverted thoughts, but he diverted his mind back to the fact he was still going to suffer your wrath. Patience was your game, a deadly weapon. He was the fly caught in your spider's web, and despite your disarming comments and calm composure, he knew how you hungered. 

Soon, you would come to enjoy your feast.

You pushed off the glass and he opened the door, head hanging in shame as he stepped inside. You chuckled mischievously, lifting his head to look into his eyes. 

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. Sometimes it just gets to be too much." Your voice was sweet and understanding, but your eyes held something different, a force that could decimate all of Detroit. "I understand."

You were trying to lower him into a false sense of security, and doing a damn good job of it. You must have been quite the intimidating detective.

"I know I've broken the rule."

"Yes, you did," you grabbed your loofa, squeezing some of his body wash onto it and scrubbing his chest and shoulders, "Were you at least thinking about us? You weren't watching porn, were you? I really would have to punish you for that." 

"Maybe," he smirked the cheeky bastard. You ran the loofa roughly over one of his nipples, making him cry out as he flinched away.

"Well, if someone isn't being a little brat today. Awfully cocky for someone in deep shit." You detached the showerhead and rinsed the soap off his chest, spraying him in the face for good measure as he was about to say something. "Oh, look, I got your dirty mouth too. You know, when I was a kid, if I said something my mother didn't like, she'd wash my mouth out with soap. Would you like a demonstration?"

"Sorry," he dipped his head down again, recognizing a losing battle when he saw one. You returned to washing him, making him get on his knees as you lathered up his hair. No matter how much trouble he was in, even if you were absolutely livid with him, you still showed your love. Your nails gently scraped along his scalp, tilting his head so the soap wouldn't get in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your soft belly. He loved the sensation, absolutely addicted to the fingers caressing his skull. It was something he never understood, probably never will, but he found comfort in the touch.

"I did," He mumbled.

"Did what?" you cooed, still disarming him.

"I was thinking... about you and Connor, while..." he trailed off, burying his face against you, embarrassed.

"While what, sweetheart?" Of course you would make him say it. Your hands slid down his neck, a shiver noticeably running down his spine. Your thumbs moved under his jaw and pushed his head up to look at you again, "Use your words, my dear."

"While... while I touched myself. I thought about all the ways you could tease me, ways I could fuck you, fill you. I thought about Connor, taking me, giving me everything he has. I even thought about how you might punish me, how you both could punish your naughty little sinner." 

You couldn't hide your human tells, face and chest flushed a beautiful shade of red, eyes dilated, lips parted to allow more air, and, being so close, and despite the gentle rain of the shower, he could smell your arousal. Still, you did a decent job of playing it off. Patience, even with yourself.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?" you smirked, taking the showerhead in hand and rinsing his hair, fingers gently working the soap out. He hummed, settling back against you, completely enchanted by such simple gestures. Such a sensitive man, able to feel so much. Perhaps too much. 

......

Connor didn't come home that night, much to Sixty's relief and disappointment. You would not partake in any hardcore sexual acts without both androids there to enjoy it. It was another rule. Minor acts, such as fellacio, were permitted. Even sex was permitted if one was feeling hot and bothered, but only if the third person was completely unavailable. It was the best way to ensure nobody felt neglected, not that you ever allow that anyway, pushing your human body beyond its limits for your android lovers.

Still, the two of you missed him, cuddling with each other and staying up late. Connor got a moment to call and informed you both that he would be on a stakeout with Hank and likely wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Sighing, you both headed to bed.

Connor finished his case the following day, but Sixty had gotten a report of a series of break-ins and assaults in an android community. What had been a simple case was made complicated when the attacks were an initiation for possible members of a new anti-android gang starting up. By the time Sixty and his partner, Ben, had shut them down, he had forgotten about his punishment, pushed completely from his mind as he settled into bed curled next to you, Connor's hand draped over his waist.

Chapter Text

When Sixty awoke, he found himself naked and bound, forced to stand by the rope holding his wrists above his head. There was another rope spanning across his body in an intricate pattern, pulled tight and rubbing against him in a way he was finding more pleasurable than he should, given the situation. He had on a blindfold, thick enough that he couldn't tell if it was day or night. He tried to run his scanner through the material, only to find it disabled. Startled, he ran a diagnostic, finding that his hearing and sense of smell had been dampened, sitting at more of a human degree. Without them, he would be unable to hear or smell any indicators as to where he was. 

Before he could start to panic, he felt a hand fluttering against his crotch, touches so frustratingly light. The hand gripped his cock, and with it, he could register the ridges and grooves of fingers he knew quite well.

"Y.. Y/n..." He choked out, and the hand let go.

"Oh, boo. It seems that Connor overlooked something. He'll have to be punished as well." The hand returned, slipping something cold and heavy over his hardening phallus. "It's interesting that you could detect my fingerprints using your cock. Perhaps I've given you too much attention." The hand pulled away again, prompting Sixty to whine. Knowing he was in your care, any fear he felt melted into anticipation. His cock throbbed, already fully hard and wanting attention. He could feel the tight squeeze of the band at the base of his dick.

There was another light touch ghosting over his body, this one much thinner than your fingers. It slid over the ropes and down his legs, rubbing his inner thighs from behind before sliding up higher, touching his entrance, gliding back and forth. A loud moan escaped his lips and you chuckled darkly. 

"Listen to you, not even trying to hide how turned on you are. You don't know where you are, yet you're already a moaning mess, " he felt it move forward, teasing his balls. He gasped for breath, gliding himself along the thin intrusion. "Imagine, since that's what got you here in the first place, I could have you tied up in the middle of some sex club, people watching you ride my riding crop. Maybe in a private room with a large window. I bet I could make a lot of money selling seats, strangers touching themselves while watching you. Might even make you clean the other room with your tongue when we're done."

 In his mind, he could almost feel the eyes burning through his skin. Exibitionism is one of your kinks, so it wouldn't surprise him. He still thinks back to when he had watched you and Connor from the observation room of interrogation room 3, before the fateful night you had been drugged. He should have walked away, but instead, he locked the doors and watched the whole show. You didn't even bother cleaning up the mess you left on the table when you were done, though now he was certain you had done it on purpose, knowing exactly who would find it. As embarrassing as it is, that was his first taste of sex, both literally and metaphorically. He used to use that memory frequently, wishing he would have gone to the interrogation room instead. 

Still, to have all those eyes on him, watching his every movement with strained pants and soaked panties... he felt hot, overwhelmingly so. Suddenly bashful, his hips stilled, thighs coming together. 

You pulled the riding crop away before coming up behind him, your hand, covered in some kind of lubricant, grabbing his cock and jerking him off at a brutal pace. He fell forward, his bound wrists the only thing keeping him up.

"You're gonna give us another show, sweetheart, " you declared, leaning into his ear and growling, "and you're going to fucking like it." You ripped your hand away. He keened at the sudden loss, hips trying to chase the pleasure. It ended when he suddenly felt the sting of the riding crop, making contact with his ass. He yelped, your hand rubbing the blue whelt that already started forming. 

" This is punishment, both for identifying me and forgetting your place. If I want to fuck you in the middle of downtown, you will say "yes ma'am". Got it?"

" y-yes, ma'am, " he gasped out, the pain encapsulated by pleasure.

"Good. Now, you will count to ten. If you fail to do so, I will start over. Understand?"

He nodded his head, which you grabbed by his hair, sharply pulling it back, a groan leaving his lips.

"I asked if you understand."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Mmnn... Good boy." You leaned against him, whispering in his ear, "The word of the day is 'monochrome'." He nodded, understanding what you meant. It was the safeword. He smiled, knowing that even while being punished, you would never hurt him.

Meanwhile, Connor sat in a chair only a few feet away from the erotic scene, tethered to the arms and legs, cock flush with his belly. To make matters worse, you had found his transmitter, turning on the little blue plug and working it inside him. It was why you had tied him up. You had called him your 'Weapon of Mass Seduction'. An absolutely terrible pun, but he knew, once you let him loose, there would be no stopping him. He had programmed the connection to be disabled if one of you used the safeword, otherwise it was 'all fair game'. Your words, not his.

 He had connected with Sixty while he slept, learning of all the dirty ways he wanted to be punished, and, like the loving, caring person that you are, you were going to make it a reality. 

He drank in every one of Sixty's sweet whimpers and whines, wishing he was the one causing them, spearing him on his cock over and over. He can't voice his wants or needs as the little silicone ball shoved in his mouth prevents him from doing so. He could only watch as you teased Sixty, flicking his nipple before circling back around and giving him another smack to his ass.

"One!" He cried out, yanking on the ropes that held him.

Another smack resounded in the small room.

"T-two." Another. "Th-REE!" you didn't even wait for him to finish counting. "Fourrr." The next one hit a little higher than you meant it too, hitting his lower back. "Five," he breathed out. Taking a quick break, you rubbed your hand over the welts, the stinging pressure sending mixed signals to his brain. He sighed happily, pushing himself harder against your hand.

"Think you can handle more?" you were really asking if he liked this, if it was as pleasurable as he had fantasized.

"Yes," he moaned, whining when you pulled away again, only to feel the bite of the whip once more.

"SIX!" he cried out, hips bucking forward. His cock was soaked with his lubricant, every jolt of his hips shot more from him. The next smack made a few drops land at Connor's feet.

"Sahh-sahh-sevennn," he wanted to be touched, to feel, but all he felt was the pleasurable sting of the whip coming down on him again. "Eig..ht." His cock was twitching, wanting more. If it weren't for the, rather rudimentary, ring around him, he was certain he would have came. Another smack to his ass, harder than before, making him pull at the rope in his hands.

"NINE!" he sobbed. Tears had prickled at his eyes, so hot, so hot, so hot. 

SMACK

"TEN!" he screamed, hips jumping forward, a stream of precum landing on Connor's cock and stomach. Sixty slumped down, legs giving out as the rope kept him up. You came up behind him, hips pressing into his sore ass.

"What a good boy, taking your punishment so well," you grabbed his hips, pulling him as tight against you as possible, a stuttered, broken moan was his only response. He wanted to come, needed to with how swollen his sack felt. You grabbed it, feeling how full and heavy he was and massaging it with your fingers. He wailed, body trying to back away from the overstimulation, only to feel the insistent sting from his ass pressed so tightly against you.

Connor was beginning to become frustrated, an anger boiling under the surface of his skin. He broke no rules, yet he was receiving a similar punishment? You noticed the dark glare the man was giving you, making you shiver. His cock looked painfully hard, and it was no secret why he was enraged. You were being unfair.

You released Sixty, leaving him to pant his relief and frustration, undoing the ropes suspending him and easing him to the floor.

"It seems that our guest has become impatient. Since he has waited this long, I think you owe him a little something."

"What?" he was confused. Was there someone else here with you? Was it Connor, or did you really bring some strange man in? Your possessive nature told him no, but he had broke one of your rules, so who knows what you have in store for him.

 You hauled him up to his feet as he stumbled forward before letting him drop. His head came into contact with someone's thigh before he righted himself, hearing a muffled grunt. You were whispering into the person's ear, but between his locked audio settings and the thrums of his thirium pump in his ears, he couldn't make out what you were saying.

"Just a little longer, Con, my love, my good boy. A little longer and you'll get your full reward. You've been so good, so patient." he groaned, back arching at your praise. How did he let you talk him into this? His systems were going haywire, warning popping up all over his HUD. It was pissing him off, clearing them from his vision. If you didn't hurry up, you were going to be the one punished. 

Sixty sat between his legs, panting and still blindfolded, cheeks flushed. His mouth was unknowingly so close to his cock, hot breaths making him twitch. 

"Move a little forward Sweetheart." Sixty complied, his mouth right over Connor, still open and panting, just out of reach. You took in the sight, Connor, looking like he was going to kill you if you didn't let him go, and Sixty, dazed in a submissive haze of need, hands bound together. He was touching himself, trying to work off the ring but being unable to in his current state.

Touching himself had been the problem. You took his hands off his cock, hearing him whine in protest. Instead, you took the rope and looped it under the chair, tying it to the back and forcing Sixty to remain in place. He whined and continued to pant, working Connor into a frenzy. Steam was lightly billowing from his nostrils, overheating without his mouth to aid in cooldown procedures. As a final tease, you ran a finger up his length, the growl you received almost making you regret it. Almost.

 You finally relented, untying his arms.

"Y-Y/n..." Sixty moaned, "what should I-" his words were cut off by a surprised yelp as a large hand went to the back of his head, roughly pulling him forward, slipping something hot and heavy into his mouth. Sixty tried to pull away in shock when a second hand went to his head, quickly setting a brutal pace. Sixty sat there and took it, relaxing his throat to allow the intrusion deeper. 

"Tell me, Sixty, do you recognize this voice?" you removed Connor's gag, hearing him sharply inhale, gasping for cooling breaths. He groaned with every exhale, needing more, faster. Sixty must have recognized him, as he started moaning throughout the assault on his mouth, moving against him feverishly, hips and cock jolting excitedly. You wanted to feel those hips against your ass. You let your boys play, with no relief for yourself. Now, who's being unfair?

Connor was not holding back, hips stuttering in their rhythm before pushing Sixty against him, Holding him there, feeling him swallow around his pulsing cock, taking all he gave him. He relaxed back into the chair, still hard, but not feeling so wound tight. Sixty continued to suck and lap at him, moaning at the drag of his cock in his throat, how nice it felt, running his tongue over the sensitive head. He had Connor coming again in minutes, letting him fill his mouth. Once he felt him stop twitching, Sixty pulled up, opening his mouth to show Connor the mess he made of him. From the pleased groan, he concluded Connor was not blindfolded as he was. He had been watching him the whole time. Connor shoved two of his fingers in Sixty's mouth, running them against his tongue.

"Close your mouth and swallow," Connor ordered. Sixty readily obeyed, each gulp trying to pull Connor's fingers deeper into his greedy little mouth. Sixty started lapping at him again, but you grabbed him by the hair. A garbled cry erupted from him, body quivering. You could see his cock twitching, but very little was able to slip past the ring. He sobbed in frustration, unable to find any sort of relief. 

"Please, let me come, please, please," his begging was so pretty, you almost conceded.

"Sorry, Sixty, but this is still your punishment." You let go of his head, sitting on Connor's lap, blocking him. Connor took hold of your hips, pulling you to grind on him, trying to work his way inside of you, but you slapped his hand. He can wait a minute.

"Please, I'll never do it again. Never! Just, please, take it off. Please?" You reached forward, slipping off the blindfold, revealing a nice hotel room, bed moved aside to make room for your little show of authority. Connor had been his only audience, which, in the back of his mind, was relieving, but it did not satisfy his needs, especially with your sex so close to his face.

"I am going to have my fun while Connor is still under my control," You lined him up with your entrance, sinking down, a beastly groan coming from behind you, "Once I'm done, haah,  y-your penance begins, Ahh!" Connor moved against you, unwilling to wait until you were done speaking. He pushed in deep, grinding you on his pelvis before bucking against your ass. Sixty watched from below, mesmerized as his cock was neglected, only the ropes along his body, moving with every gasping breath, provided any relief. It was his turn for a show. 

Connor grabbed under your thighs, lifting them and spreading you open, the new angle making you cry out your ecstasy. He wanted you cumming, squeezing his cock in a tight embrace. 

"lick," Connor groaned. Sixty wasted no time, lapping at your folds in an instant before sucking on your clit. You wailed, feeling yourself being shoved off the edge, legs trying to pull from his tight grip. Your walls clamped down on Connor's cock, trying to still him, but the grip only spurred him on, moaning against your neck. Sixty was not told to stop, you couldn't form the words and Connor liked your writhing, so he continued to suckle your clit, even as your thighs shook violently in Connor's grip, wailing out the overwhelming stimulation. It was revenge, for making Connor wait.

The first orgasm quickly triggered the second, and with it, Connor held himself within you, making sure his seed stayed deep inside. You still tried to get away, squirming from Sixty's unrelenting mouth.

"Alright, my soul, I think she's had enough," he didn't stop. Connor growled, "Sixty, stop." He only whined, doubling his efforts and making you scream out, gripping Connor within again. Connor grabbed him by the hair, pulling him off you. Sixty was in a complete daze, mouth open and panting with his tongue out, ready to receive, eyes half-lidded and iris blown out completely. The sight made him twitch within you, a moan escaping your lips. He knew the next part of your plan, but could you handle any more? Could Sixty, for that matter?

"Heart?" Connor murmured in your ear questionably, "are you alright?" you nodded.

"J-just give me a moment, love," as much as he wanted to move again, he fought against his urge, focusing on peppering your neck with kisses, nipping softly at the flesh on occasion. Sixty still kept trying to lap at you, even with Connor trying to keep him at bay. Unable to prepare yourself with that, you eased off Connor, letting the younger RK800 suck on him with fervor, as if it was his only function. His predecessor appreciated it, kisses turning sloppy on your shoulder.

After catching your breath, sure you won't fall over the second you stand up, you climbed out from between your boys, freeing them both from their bindings. You tugged at the ropes wrapped tightly around Sixty, letting it slap back against the skin, enjoying the muffled yelp Sixty released. You contemplated leaving them on but decided against it. You've already overindulged. Hands working it loose, you eyed the dark blue lines over his body. You traced one of the lines with your finger, feeling him tremble under your touch. His hands rested on Connor's knees, gripping tightly, wanting to be good. He seems to have learned his lesson. Smiling, you got into position for the next session.

"Hey, Sixty, was this in your fantasy?" he lifted his mouth from Connor to look in your direction. He felt far too hot, mind clouded over, leaving him as the panting, lustful creature before you. Steam left his mouth, body desperately trying to cool down. Seeing you, his mouth watered. You were on your hands and knees, one hand reaching back and showing off your dripping entrance, just begging for his attention. His mind swam with possibilities, neglected cock twitching, uncaring of the painful ring digging into the sensitive flesh. He needed to be inside you. 

He crawled over, like a beast in heat, leaning over, hands on your waist, throbbing member flush with your ass. His body already excited to feel you, alleviation so close, so tantalizingly close. right when his tip made contact with your heat, strong arms pulled him off, making him wail in despair. Tears ran down his cheeks. 

"Do you think he's learned his lesson?" Connor murmured, nuzzling Sixty's neck. Sixty nuzzled back, trembling in his arms, every touch was like a spark to his maxed-out sensors. 

"I suppose," you sighed, feigning defeat. Though, in actuality, you had never seen Sixty quite this riled. You worried you might have pushed him too hard. Moving to kneel in front of Sixty, you ran your hand down his length, stopping at the ring. "You want this off?"

"Y-yes, rA9, yes," he gasped, and you weren't sure if Connor was holding him back or holding him up, his hands trying desperately to grip onto the arms around his shoulders.

"Ever gonna touch yourself without permission again?"

"No, ma'am, no, never, just-please? please?" He continued to sob and plead. Everything was starting to ache. Even as you finally touched him, he wanted to flinch away just as much as he wanted you to touch him more.

You smiled, his sweet voice and breathy whines like music to your ears, "Since you asked so nicely." You stood, walking over to the nightstand and grabbing a small key. Lifting his cock, you unlocked the latch on the ring, his size immediately forcing it to stretch out a bit. He cried, trying to grasp onto Connor harder, legs giving out. You worked it open just a bit more before finally sliding it off. Connor adjusted his hold, running his hands over Sixty's body, trying to help distract from the sensation. After a moment or two, Sixty wasn't shaking so violently, gasping breaths leveling out as the steam leaving his lips lessened.

"Better?" you smiled. Sixty stared for a moment, something dark brewing in his eyes, before pushing off Connor, landing on top of you and forcing you to the ground with a yelp of your own. He guided one of your legs to wrap around his hips as he penetrated you, a loud groan echoing throughout the room. He couldn't wait, your pulsing walls were almost painful. He needed to relieve the pressure, moving fast and deep. You had built him up, worked him up. It was only fair he would get to fill you up. You moaned, which he stifled with his lips crashing into yours. 

Sixty was already losing his rhythm, cumming with a muffled shout of your name, biting your lip, drawing blood only to lick it away. No more games. You were going to take him, all of him, every drop.

Connor was momentarily shocked. This wasn't part of your plan, but he was willing to play along. With Sixty's hips still as he filled you up, Connor took the opportunity to come up behind him.

"I hope you didn't forget about me, my Soul," he growled. It was Sixty's only warning as Connor eased himself into his tight ring. Sixty brokenly moaned remnants of Connor's name, thrusting once more, fucking himself on Connor's throbbing member.

You had released a beast in Sixty, the remnants of his sadistic past bleeding through. It was your job to break him in, remind him of just who he belongs to. Even as he takes you from above, you still held power over him.

The sound that left him as your teeth sank into his neck was beautiful, a perfect blend of a moan and a scream, pleasure and pain. Before he could recover, your fingers curled, nails tearing into his synthetic skin. Connor watched as blue drops trailed after your claws, quick to bend down and lick them away. Sixty dropped to his elbows, body resting on you, unable to hold himself up any longer. His eyes rolled back, hips jerking slightly as he spent himself again.

"Look at what a mess you've made. I hope you intend to clean it up," you growled in his ear. He only moaned in reply, unable to form words. In reality, he had released quite a lot within you. If you reached down, you could feel the slight swell he was causing. Perhaps the cockring was not a good idea.

When Sixty stopped moving, Connor towered over him, fucking Sixty's prone body. The younger RK800 was unable to move from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure, paralyzing him. He couldn't move, but his body still wanted more, happy to take Connor's synthetic seed, Twitching within you, trying to give you more. With Connor taking Sixty so roughly above, you were being used just as tumultuously. As Connor pressed harder against Sixty's ass, igniting the lacerations on the tender skin, Sixty's pelvis ground into you in all the right ways. It wasn't long before you reached your next peak, body milking him of a more it can't take. Your harsh mewling caused Connor to slow down his frenzied attack, letting you ride out your high.

You couldn't get up. Sixty didn't look like he was gonna move anytime soon and Connor was just fine with that, but you were full and sensitive, and the weight was getting to you.

"Mmnn, Con, my love?" he only hummed in acknowledgment, " I'm tired." Connor nodded, understanding what you were telling him. He picked Sixty up, forcing him on his knees as he continued to fuck him, speeding back up. Sixty's cock was soaked with cum, still oozing and dripping down on you. 

Seeing you lying like that, trying to gather your strength to get up, a mess between your knees, Connor hatched an idea. He adjusted his legs, positioning them over yours before bringing them back, pinning your thighs between his and Sixty's.

"Hey! Connor!" you exclaimed. He only smirked, "I said I'm done, let me go!" you fought to get your legs free, but they might as well be in a bear trap.

"I just wanted to add the icing to the cake," he purred, licking the bitemark you left on Sixty's neck. He could taste thirium, hoping you didn't ingest any. His hand went from Sixty's hip to his cock. Sixty almost fell forward again, but Connor wrapped his other arm around his torso, pinning him against his chest.

"You want to mark her, don't you? Make her a mess...hmmn... be-before you clean her up?" Connor groaned, bucking harshly against Sixty's bruised ass, his cum working its way down his thighs.

"Y-yeess," he slurred, drunk from the high. His half-lidded eyes stared down at you, his lover, his savior. 

You felt warm from his hazy gaze, love and devotion shining through. You sat up as much as you could, hand going to his hair and pulling his head as forward as he could go in Connor's embrace. Your lips met pliant ones, lazily kissing him as he tried keeping up in his daze. He moaned against your lips, shaking, so close. You pulled back, going to his ear.

"I love you, Sixty." You fell back, unable to hold yourself up anymore, mouth gasping. It was all he needed to hear as the tension snapped again, his orgasm hitting him hard.

Connor purred his own sweet praises and reassurances in Sixty's ear as he continued to work his cock, easing him through his powerful aftershocks. Connor had Sixty pointed at your face, synthetic cum hitting your bruised lips, dripping down your chin. He painted your chest, watching as it pooled between your breasts. Sixty started to whine, weakened arms trying in vain to push his hand away. Connor gave him one final stroke, squeezing out every drop, letting it drip down his hand and onto your pelvis. You looked up at Connor, licking the cum off your lips, showing it on your tongue before swallowing with a moan of approval. Fuck. What a beautiful sight. Sixty must have thought so too, as he started whimpering, his own hand on his cock, trying to cum again, to watch you do it again. You didn't seem to mind so much now, mouth open a little wider as you watched Sixty's hands.

Connor was close again. He slipped out of Sixty, much to his protest.

"Don't worry, I'm not finished with you. I just think Y/n would like a little more." Sixty nodded. Stumbling, he managed to climb off of you. He watched, hand back on his cock. 

Connor leaned forward, cradling your head and bringing you closer. he kissed you, tongue tracing your lips before diving in. He was relentless in his kiss, stealing your breath away. When he finally pulled back, you were gasping for breath. He sat up, moving beside your head, hand making quick work of his cock, the tip touching your lips. Sixty moved to lean over your side, bending down and licking at your breasts, cleaning you of his mess. Hot breaths danced over Connor's tip as you panted your pleasure, flicking your tongue against the underside, bringing him closer, mouth open and waiting. He tensed, messily painting your lips and filling your mouth. You waited until he was done before swallowing, licking what remained on your lips and ingesting that as well before kissing the tip of his cock, a whine leaving him at the soft gesture.

"I love you, Connor," you sighed. Sixty pulled back, licking his own lips clean while you finally stood up on wobbly legs. You bent down and kissed Connor, which he immediately kissed back.

"I love you, too," he whispered in your ear, smiling up at you when you pulled back. You smiled back, then looked at Sixty, walking over and planting a kiss on his lips as well, tasting more of the sweetness on him. You vaguely wondered if there was a nutritional benefit to ingesting synthetic semen. It sounded like a way the boys would make you take your vitamins. You saved that thought for later, feeling relaxed and in need of a shower and a nice, long nap.

"I hope you enjoy your punishment," you smiled, stroking his hair before turning away to the bathroom. Sixty couldn't help but notice the steady stream of white running down your legs and dripping onto the floor. 

"Don't break him, Con, or I'll lose my morning-after snuggle-buddy," you joked before closing the door. Sixty turned to Connor, then looked down to his hard, twitching cock.

"I have also wondered if I can make you come in stasis," He smirked, making Sixty blanch, "I suppose we'll just have to test it." Connor was on him in a second, making him yelp as the force knocked him down. Connor lifted his hips with one hand, the other supporting his weight next to Sixty's head. He angled his own hips, lining himself up. His cock slipped a few times before finally catching on Sixty's cum-slicked hole. He pushed in, fucking him slow and deep. Sixty had mentally prepared himself for Connor's brutal assault on his abused ass, so feeling him go so slow, so deep, it felt good, but not quite enough. He tried to move his hips, but Connor's hand kept him still.

"So greedy," He growled, bending down and taking one of Sixty's nipples between his teeth. He moaned, threading his fingers through his predecessor's hair. Connor opened his mouth, tonguing his nipple before biting down hard on his breast. Sixty cried out, back arching, gripping Connor tight within. The older RK800 sat up, seeing perfect teeth marks around the bruised flesh, marking him as his, much like your bite marked him as yours. His fingers ran along the ring of sapphire, Sixty keening, smiling happily. He wanted to cover him in that pretty blue.

 Connor picked up his pace, taking Sixty's thighs and pushing them up, almost folding him in half. He watched his cock be buried deep in Sixty's ass, seeing how his greedy hole tried to keep him in as he pulled back. Sixty took hold of his own thighs, holding himself up for Connor's thick length, his own bouncing against his belly. Connor leaned down, capturing his lips, hips jerking roughly against him as he spent another round. Sixty whimpered, trembling as he came, ass gripping tightly to the intrusion. Having cum so many times so quickly, and after holding back for so long, his cock twitched painfully, cum pooling on his belly rather than painting his chest. Part of him wanted to stop, another wanted to know how far Connor will push him. If he could make him feel that shock that only comes when he feels too much too fast, the euphoria before he is forced into stasis.

With the transmitter, Connor didn't have the issue of sensitivity, picking Sixty off the ground and bending him over the edge of the bed. He pushed back in from behind, quickly setting a rough pace, similar to how he had used his mouth, filling the room with the sound of flesh slapping flesh. Sixty buried his face and hands in the sheets, biting down on them to keep from screaming. Connor was having none of it, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up, biting down on the space between his neck and shoulder. He released the sheets as he screamed, crying out his name. Sixty was squeezing him so tightly, it felt so good. He came, but didn't stop his assault, didn't even slow down, already chasing another orgasm. 

You came out, clad in only a thin robe, hair still damp. You watched the, rather violent, scene before you. For a moment, you worried Connor might be taking him a bit too hard, til you noticed Sixty trying to match his pace, albeit unsuccessfully, his straining cock dripping onto the front of the bed. He wasn't even able to cry out, only fighting to gasp for air, tears running down his face, a stream of saliva trailing his jaw.

"Not done yet?" you chided, "Must be losing your edge, Connor." fueled by your words, Connor started fucking into him harder, growling, making Sixty stain the front of the bedsheets, not allowing him to come down, only holding him firmer in place when his body tried to fight against him. 

"I-it's because you... worked him up... so much..." Connor panted out, "I could use... your help."

"I just got clean!" you snapped. You looked at Sixty, blissed-out despite being overstimulated, open to take everything his male lover will give him, no matter the consequences. At this rate, he might let Connor take him all night, and with that transmitter, he'd do it too. "Fine, but bring him up here. I have enough rug burns."

Connor kept going for a moment before pulling out. Sixty slumped against the bed, but still whined in protest. You gestured for Connor to lay back, helping Sixty stumble onto the bed. You positioned him over Connor, his back to him, holding Connor's cock as Sixty slid down, spearing himself with a guttural moan. The angle, coupled with his weight, pushed Connor deep inside, so deep that if he spread his legs a little wider, he would be hitting the end of his component. Connor noticed too, wanting to thrust up and hit it, over and over, knock his wires loose, make him unable to control his orgasms, his legs, anything. But, Connor had asked for your help, so he will have to do it your way.

You bent down, taking Sixty into your mouth, feeling his hands go straight to your hair, demanding more from his overstimulated cock. You sucked on his head, making him jolt and Connor grunt. You tried to pull back, but his hands forced you to take more, deeper. You took his wrists, pulling his hands off you as you sat up. He whined, hips bucking miserably. You let the misdemeanor go this time, seeing as he likely wouldn't register the lesson at this point anyway.

 You climbed on top of him, opening the robe and taking his cock in your hand, slipping it inside your warmth. You were still feeling a little sensitive, walls quickly gripping the intrusion. It was already too much for him, a broken cry leaving him as his cock twitched. It was then that you signaled Connor to start, grabbing Sixty by his upper thighs and forcing him down as he bucked. 

Sixty didn't know what to do, it was so much. Connor was hitting him so deeply, occasionally tangling his tip with some wires and tugging them as he pulled out, only to slam back into them again, making him quake. He was still being squeezed by you, your walls so soft and tight. Your lips suckled and nipped at his neck, hand in his hair and running over his damaged back. He was on the edge of a cliff, and his loves were intent on shoving him off to the abyss. He clung to you, needing something as he started to fall. Connor came, Synthetic cum covering wires, pulling them with every jerk of his hips. You came at the same time, milking his cock as you bit his neck again. It was too much. He cried out, cumming before short-circuiting, giving Connor a shock and making him shout. 

Sixty fell back, boneless and unconscious. You slid off him, taking some tissues you had put on the nightstand and wiping yourself off as best you could.

"Told you it was a good idea to get a hotel. I don't want to clean this up." Connor grunted, rolling over with his arms around Sixty, still sitting within him. You watched as he shoved a pillow under Sixty's hips, sitting up as he rocked slowly within him, taking his time to enjoy the drag of his walls along his cock.

"Why do you like doing this? sleep-fucking, that is?" you laid back, basking in the afterglow of a good, thorough fucking. Connor took a moment before answering you.

"I like the thought that... even in your dreams... you can feel me..." he picked up his pace, not noticing how you smirked.

"Be a real shame if someone were to say the safeword right about now." his head shot up, eyes wide. 

"Don't," he warned, knowing how sensitive he would be if you did.

"What was it again? Monochord? Monocle? Monogamy? No, that's stupid..." your eyes lit up, "That's right! It's-" Connor's hand flew to your mouth. He could feel your smile against his palm.

"Shut up," he growled. You only smiled wider. You licked his hand, nibbling on his palm and making him shiver. His hips stuttered, hand going limp as he groaned out his climax.

"Monochrome!"

He gasped, body trembling violently. He fell over, eyes fluttering until he finally went limp, still panting. You hauled him up into your arms.

"Wha-why would you... do that?" he groaned, upset that he can't actually feel your arms.

"Somebody had to stop you," you giggled, "Sixty might not have any feeling left in his lower body otherwise." Connor hummed before turning in your arms, burying his face in your clothed chest.

"He might not have any feeling now," he mumbled. You recognized that guilty tone.

"What did you do?" He looked up at you.

"I felt something disconnect just now." You sighed.

"Roll him over." Connor got up. The benefits of turning his sensors off are no aches, just the buzzing, mental high. He rolled Sixty over, putting a pillow under his head.

"You made quite a mess of him, didn't you?" you giggled, pressing against his sternum and opening his stomach. 

"I believe this was a two-person job." He sat next to Sixty, stroking his hair. You hummed, moving his pelvis plate out the way.

"I'm not the one with the squirt gun," you pulled out a few more pieces and set them to the side. Connor was confused for a second before it clicked, scoffing.

"I suppose not. Just sharp teeth and claws." 

You ignored him as you got to Sixty's anal attachment, opening it up.

"Damn, Con. Hand me some tissues." He felt a sense of shameful pride as you cleaned Sixty from within, using tissue after tissue. "Here it is. You didn't disconnect his legs, but he wouldn't have to worry about his errant fantasies getting the better of him." You wiped down the connections. It's impressive that Connor was able to hit back here, but considering how hard he was pushing, you're not entirely surprised. That transmitter is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. Satisfied, you put everything back in place.

"By the way, did you learn anything from your little experiment?" you asked as you started putting him back together.

"Yes, though I figured as much. With his systems shut down, his body wouldn't be able to respond to my actions. It was a nice thought, but "sleep-fucking", as you call it, will have to be reserved for you." he smirked, another cocky bastard asking for trouble.

"There's always cock-warming. Slip yourself in, then just wait for him to wake up, already ready for him." Connor shook his head.

"You've made me into quite the 'sexual deviant'." he was gleaming, knowing exactly what he just did. You stared for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

"That was a terrible pun!" you continued to cackle, hands shaking too much to put Sixty's pelvis plate back. It wouldn't have been so funny if he didn't sound so serious when he said it. You took a few calming breaths. "Don't worry, we can get past this. I still love you." you giggled, returning to your work.

"I believe that is my line. What was it you called me? A 'Weapon of Mass Seduction'?"

"Should have been 'Mass Eruption', or, with poor Sixty, 'Dick interruption'." you sighed. "I hope we weren't too rough on him." You rubbed the bitemark on his neck. You knew he would heal faster than you ever could, but some of these might take more than the usual day.

"I hope not, too. I know that we were going off his fantasies, but thoughts are a lot different than actions." you hummed in agreement. Just then, Sixty started to groan. 

"Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?" you whispered, coming up beside him. His eyes slowly opened, nose crinkling as his systems came online and he could feel the full effect of what happened.

"I'm okay." you smiled, stroking his cheek. "Can we go home?" He felt... venerable for some reason, laid bare. Being in an unfamiliar place wasn't helping.

"Of course. Connor is gonna help get you cleaned up and dressed, and then we can go home and watch cartoons. Sound good?" He smiled, nodding. It did sound nice.

Connor climbed out of bed, scooping up Sixty and carrying him into the bathroom. You went about putting everything back in place. 

"Don't forget to take out that transmitter," you called before Connor closed the door.

"Why did we go to a hotel rather than stay home?" Sixty asked when Connor set him down, filling the tub.

"Y/n didn't want to clean up the mess. I offered, but she doesn't like it when I "do too much"," he air-quoted, making Sixty laugh.

"You do do a lot for us," he fidgeted on the seat, unable to get comfortable from the abuse his backside had taken, both inside and out.

"Because I love you and Y/n, and you both take such good care of me." He noticed him squirming. "Are you sure you're alright? You can tell us if we pushed you too hard."

"I'm okay, just a little sore," he looked down, Connor could tell he was hiding something.

"If you don't tell me, I'll have to probe your memories," Connor warned, taking Sixty's hand. He looked up, meeting the soft brown eyes of his predecessor. He knew it was an empty threat, he might connect with him, bare himself to Sixty as well, but he wouldn't do something so intrusive to him. 

"I feel... weak. Like I can't be alone, and defenseless. I enjoyed what we did, I really did, but I just-" he cut himself off, unsure what he's trying to say.

"You're not weak. You are affected by your feelings and emotions on a deeper level. It's not a bad thing."

"I feel like I'm losing control," Sixty sighed, "I should have better control over my wants."

"You won't hear me complaining," you chimed, placing their fresh clothes on the counter, "We've only been together for what, six, seven months? Sex is still new for you. Connor went through the same thing after our first time. Hank would have a heart attack if he found out all the places we sullied at his house and the DPD." You stroked his hair, "all you need is some quality cuddling..." you eyed his still bleeding wounds, "and maybe some thirium."

He nodded, smiling softly. Perhaps you are right. Connor helped him into the tub, climbing in behind him. You turned and left, going to get dressed.

................

"Check it out, I stole their little soaps," you giggled from the front seat of the car, Sixty lying on his side in the back, unable to handle the whole car ride home on his backside. Connor was in the hotel lobby, turning in the room keys.

"Why? they're not even good," he mumbled, looking at the cheap, packaged soaps in your hand.

"It's what you do when you stay at a hotel."

"Make a mess and steal their soap?"

"Yep! Then complain about the bed being too hard and the pillows being flat."

He chuckled. He might never understand them, but he liked when you would teach him one of your 'human lessons'. Connor came back, seeing your soaps and shaking his head. You had a whole basket of tiny soaps, shampoos, conditioners, and lotion under the bathroom sink you will likely never use. Still, he couldn't stop you. He pulled out of the parking lot, heading for home.

The ride wasn't as smooth as Sixty would have liked, neglected roads jostling him about. Even you seemed uncomfortable, trying to lift yourself up on every incoming bump. Connor tried to drive slower and avoid as many potholes as possible, but it was out of his control. You practically sprang out of the car when he parked. 

Connor helped Sixty out, and when it proved too much to walk on his own, Connor picked him up. It wasn't helping him feel secure with himself, but Connor kissed his temple.

"Let us take care of you."

"You always take care of me," he pouted. He didn't feel like he's done anything to earn this level of care.

"I just essentially broke your ass, and you think I shouldn't take responsibility?" 

"You do more than you think Sixty," you spoke as you fought with the front door lock. It was dark out. He checked his internal clock.

12:53 am

"When did you check into the hotel?"

"Around 4. I asked Con to keep you in rest mode until we were done setting up. I moved things around while Con tied you up. Then, I tied him up. We started around 6."

No wonder he felt so sore. Considering the time they bathed and drove home, they must have been at it for around five hours nonstop.

You managed to get the door unlocked, walking in and dropping your duffle bag on the living room floor.

"No place like home," you sighed. Sixty agreed, already feeling more comfortable. Connor laid him down in the bed, about to leave and grab some blue blood when Sixty grabbed him. 

"I'll be right back," Sixty still didn't let go, instead, looked down, cheeks flushed. He felt confused and embarrassed. He wants to be taken cared of, but isn't he always? You say he does a lot, but... He feels like a burden. 

"The point of aftercare is to make him feel safe. Get your fine ass in the bed. I got this." you grinned, two cold pouches of thirium in hand. you handed one each to your boys before going and grabbing yourself a drink. 

You had been right about only packing sleepwear. As awkward as it was for Connor to turn in the hotel keys in sweatpants and a t-shirt, it was nice to just kick his shoes off before climbing into bed, arms wrapping around Sixty. He might not understand why, but can tell his Soul is upset. 

"Hey, do you want to connect?" Connor murmured in his ear, "I may not understand, but maybe I can help." Sixty seemed hesitant, but eventually, he held up his hand, letting the skin melt away. Connor pressed against it and felt waves of pleasure, pain, anticipation, desperation, and euphoria. It was a lot to process, and feeling the memories from another perspective was exhilarating. Then, almost out of nowhere, he was brought down, hard. He felt displaced. It wasn't sadness or loneliness, but he couldn't think of a word for it.

Sixty could tell he was just as confused and broke the connection just as you entered the room with your drink and a bowl of fruit. Two more pouches of thirium were under your arm.

"What did I miss?"

"I don't know," came Connor's baffled reply. Setting your supplies on the nightstand, you sat cross-legged in front of them. When explaining human emotions, you always make sure they have your full attention.

"Can you explain how you feel?" You had a hunch, considering the situation, but jumping to conclusions can cause more problems.

"I'm not sure I can," Sixty began, "Everything felt so good. Really, really good. Then, when I woke up, even though I still felt good, something felt off, and I don't know how to explain it." He sighed in defeat. How could he hope to find an answer when he couldn't even explain his predicament. He looked to you and was surprised to see that you were nodding as if you knew exactly what he meant.

"Then I am right," you spoke, crawling up to Sixty's other side, propping yourself up and pulling his head to rest on your chest, "you just need some quality cuddling." You ran your fingers through his hair, hearing him sigh, though it still sounded defeated. "With every high, there is a low. The higher you feel, the harder the low will hit. You just experienced a good high, yes?" He nodded against your chest, "Well, now everything seems muted and you don't feel quite as significant. Usually, this is a hormone imbalance in humans, but, since we can't explain android emotions so scientifically yet, I imagine it's some form of glitch that happened when you short-circuited. It just needs to work itself out. While it's doing that, we will provide aftercare. There is a reason I am insistent with snuggling and quality time after a session. This is a common occurrence in sexual exploits of this caliber."

Understanding it made him feel a little better. Part of him worried you and Connor would think he didn't enjoy his "punishment". He loved every second of it, even when he was aching so bad he thought he might shut down. He didn't want to disappoint either of you, so knowing this is something you not only considered a possibility, but had been taking preventive measures since his first time, it soothed some of the ache in his chest.

Connor pressed himself against you, shoulder to shoulder, encompassing Sixty within both of your holds. While you explained the situation, he had looked up a bit more information on 'aftercare' in terms of sex. You always knew how to put emotions in terms they could understand. He turned on the television and set it to stream one of Sixty's favorite animated movies. Upon hearing it, he turned his head, unwilling to roll over onto his back and onto his wounds. A scan told him that it could take 36 to 48 hours to fix the damage.

"Drink your thirium," you whispered. He had forgotten about the pouch getting warm in his hand, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink. Connor, remembering his after seeing Sixty's, drank his down in the blink of an eye, tossing the empty pouch over your shoulder, hearing it land in the little trash can by the bed. He threw his arm over Sixty, kissing his temple.

"I love you," Connor's voice rumbled against his ear, warm words pooling in his chest.

"I love you, too," he nuzzled Connor's cheek.

"If you love him so much, why don't you kiss him?" You teased. They smiled at you before turning back to each other, lips locking at a languid pace. They pulled apart and looked back to you expectantly. You leaned over and kissed Connor just as thoroughly, pulling back and tilting Sixty's head up a bit, completing the circle with a final, passionate kiss. 

You picked at your fruit, the RKs occasionally licking your fingers, tasting the unique flavors. Once it was all gone, you scooted down just a bit, resting your head on Connor's shoulder. When you went to thread your fingers through Sixty's hair again, your elbow hit a sore spot on his shoulder, making him hiss.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," you quickly adjusted your arm.

"I'm okay. I hope Detective Collin's doesn't hit me on the back, tomorrow. I don't think I could handle it." As friendly and comical the older man was, even to Sixty, his pats on the back felt more like a personal attack than a show of camaraderie. 

When he was hired on, after a long discussion with you, Connor, and Hank, Ben had been the only detective willing to work with him. Granted, it was so he could get out of doing as much paperwork as possible, but he treated him like any other colleague, unlike the other detectives who made it perfectly clear they didn't like or trust him. As Ben got to know him, he started shooing away the rabble, and now he believes him to be a friend, even inviting him out bowling on Wednesday nights. With his glitchy system, the game was more even between them, but Sixty still won most of the time.

"We already called Fowler. You're staying home tomorrow, as is Connor." Sixty looked up at you, surprised.

"Why not you?" You usually stayed home after a session, or at least plan it on a day before your next day off.

"Is my company not enough?" Connor looked momentarily hurt, which Sixty quickly turned over to him, far too quickly if the yelp was any indication.

"I-it's not that," he took a moment to clear out the warnings and wait for the pain to return to its dull ache, "I just know how much you like your job." Connor rarely takes a day.

"Not as much as I love you. I will never put my position above you or Y/n. If I have to take a day or two to ensure you are comfortable and happy, I will do so with no hesitation." Sixty could feel the tears prickling in his eyes, which Connor gently wiped away, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

"Hey, stop bogarting him," you joked, pulling him closer and helping him roll back over, "you get him all day tomorrow. Let me have my cuddle time. If you weren't such a freak in the sheets, I wouldn't have used up all my sick days already." Connor huffed out a laugh.

"Did you inform Hank of our absence?" Sixty asked. He knew how protective he could be.

"I did. I told him we were going in for maintenance. He didn't believe me, called us " sick fucks" and that he'll see us Tuesday." Sixty nodded his head. That sounds about right. 

He relaxed back into your embrace, Connor's hand caressing his stomach, the only part not littered with blue splotches. The thrum of your heartbeat was like a lullaby.

"Get some rest, sweetheart, my love." Those were the last words he heard as he drifted off to sleep mode.

Bonus:

You entered the door of the DPD, feeling slightly achy and tired. As you headed for the break room, a shadow loomed.

"Where are my brothers?" You turned and saw Nines glaring down at you. If you weren't used to it, you would have been scared shitless, but you learned Nines just wasn't good with people. You don't know why he calls Sixty and Connor his 'big brothers' but you were not opening that can of worms.

"I fucked them to death. Funeral's on Saturday. Sorry big guy." You moved around the petrified statue to your much-needed coffee.

..........

Connor stirred from rest mode as his HUD flashed, informing him of an incoming call from Nines. He rolled onto his back, prompting Sixty to stir. Connor answered, immediately blasted with the booming voice of his 'little brother'.

"Brother! Are you alright?!?"

"I'm fine, Nines, don't shout. Why wouldn't I be?"

"What about Sixty? Is he okay?" Sixty rested his head on Connor's chest. Connor smiled and played with his hair.

"He's alright..." Sixty groaned as he adjusted his leg, throwing it over Connor's so he could snuggle closer, "...more or less. Why? What happened?" He could hear Nines sigh in relief.

"Y/n claimed you were both deactivated."

"What?" Connor was certain there was a misunderstanding.

"She told me that she had performed sexual acts so strenuous that it had resulted in both you and Sixty shutting down." Connor facepalmed, sighing in exasperation. At what point would Nines figure out you just like messing with him? He was great at dishing out sarcasm but completely incapable of understanding it.

"Nines, she was joking. We just took a personal day. We'll see you on Tuesday."

"I see. So, I should cancel the funeral invitations?"

"Yes, please do not send those." It was quiet on the other side of the line. "You already did, didn't you?"

"I am rectifying the problem." 

"Dammit, Nines! You should have called first!" 

"I will take care of it. Please enjoy your personal day." Nines quickly disconnected.

"What was all that about?" Sixty inquired.

"Apparently, we're dead and, chances are, every one of our friends believe it was of a sexual nature." Sixty stared before grinning.

"What a way to go." They shared a laugh, settling back into the pillows and turning on the tv, enjoying their time together.

You, on the other hand, kept receiving condolence messages all day, and a, rather long, angry conversation with a disgusted lieutenant.

Mondays.

Chapter Text

Shit.

Connor pulled up to his house, brightly decorated with numerous strands of Christmas lights, the very lights you had asked him to put up earlier in the week. He kept telling himself he would do it when he got off work, but every time he thought he could leave, another case would pop up. You must have done it yourself, and likely berated him under your breath the whole time. He sat in the car, readying himself for the earful he was likely to get before exiting the car.

Opening the door, he was hit with the smell of fresh-baked cookies and the sound of excited laughter. He heads towards the sound, finding you and his three-year-old daughter sitting at the kitchen table decorating cookies. It was an absolute mess, both covered in various colored icing, sprinkles spilled everywhere. SJ was under the table, licking at anything that spilled on the ground.

"Daddy!" the little girl clambered off her mother and barreled over to the detective.

"Hello, sweet pea," he bent down, catching her as she tripped into his arms and hoisting her up, "What have you been up to all day?"

"I helped mommy decorate!"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah! Mommy said a bad word putting up the Christmas lights!" Connor looked over to you, catching your scowl.

"Wow," He feigned amazement. He was dead.

She started jumping up and down in his arms.

"Lookie! We made cookies!" She continued to jump as he moved closer to the table, eyeing all the colorful treats.

"I see. They look delicious." he set her down in one of the chairs. She reached over and grabbed one. Thinking she wanted to show him up close, he leaned in, only for her to shove it into his mouth. He bit down on instinct, swallowing a few chunks.

"They're really good! You like it, daddy?" You stared in shock before pulling her into your arms.

"Sweetie, daddy can't eat that, it's not good for him," she looked down, disheartened, "why don't you go get your PJs? Time to get ready for bed." You put her down and the little girl whined before stomping off to her room. In the meantime, Connor was busy trying to remove as much of the cookie as he could, moving to the trashcan and scooping out the soggy bits with his fingers before washing his hands off.

"They are quite good," he mumbled placatingly. You weren't having any of it, glaring at him before walking away. You started to clear off the table. Connor immediately began to help.

"I'm sorry. I was about to head home when we got a call to another crime scene."He grabbed a dishtowel and went about wiping off the table while you put up what remained of the sprinkles and icing. He noticed your thumb was swollen. He took your hand into his own, inspecting the bruising on the knuckle, painful, but not broken. It was no wonder you said a 'bad word'. "Are you alright?" you let out an exacerbated sigh.

"Connor, I know how much you love your job, but I need a little help here. It's a busy time for me too, but I still have to come home and clean, watch over Aggy, take care of SJ, and get us ready for Christmas. I'm exhausted. A busted thumb is the least of my problems right now."

"I'm sorry. I'll-" Connor started coughing, rushing back to the trash can just as he began gagging. With one final heave, blue blood spewed from his mouth, bits of Christmas cookie mixed in. As painful and as gross as it was, in the back of his head, he thinks this might be the most festive thing he has ever had to forcefully remove from his system. Seems his little girl had gone a little heavy-handed on the edible glitter.

"Is daddy ok?" came your daughter's voice. She tried to walk up to Connor but you scooped her up.

"Daddy's tummy hurts, but he'll be alright." Connor heaved up more thirium, grasping the edges of the can to keep himself up. You wanted to go to him, but with Aggy, you couldn't.

"Is it 'cause he ate my cookie?" she already had tears in her eyes.

"No, daddy licks things at work and something didn't agree with him," you lied, "He'll be fine, he just needs a few moments and some of his special blueberry juice. Let's go get your bath started."

You left him for a few minutes, coming back while the tub filled. You grabbed a few bottles of thirium from the fridge and set them on the counter, opening one for him.

"You gonna be alright?" you asked, rubbing his back as he gagged again. This was hardly the first time and far from the worst, but you knew how much he hated his body's protocol for removing tainted thirium.

"I-," he coughed, "I'll be alright." He wiped his lips before grabbing a fresh bottle of thirium, "Thank you."

you nodded before heading towards the bathroom, but he grabbed your arm.

"You go take a shower and I'll get Aggy ready for bed, " Connor gave you a reassuring smile.

"Con, you just-"

"I can handle it." you thought about protesting more, he had just vomited half his thirium supply, but you were so tired and he seemed fine now. you nodded, flashed him a wry smile and a thank you before heading to the master bathroom.

After quickly consuming the second bottle, he headed to the bathroom, helping Aggy into the tub.

"Daddy, why can't you eat?"

"l don't have a stomach," He had often thought about purchasing one of the upgrades, but being such an intricate system, it had quite a hefty price tag. It was also an arduous surgery, moving all his necessary biocomponents around and putting in a completely useless system. He was content with his tastebuds, even more so since he could turn them on and off.

She only looked at him, confused. He tried to phrase it in a way she could understand.

"Well, androids don't need food, we get our nutrients a different way." He grabbed the brightly colored shampoo, washing her hair.

"Like from your blueberry juice?"

"Exactly." Such a smart child. "Tip your head back." She did so, allowing him to carefully rinse her hair. It's getting so long. It reminds him of Halloween, when he produced a beard for his costume. She was absolutely fascinated by how fast it appeared, pulling on it to see if it was real. Seeing it change colors made her think he was a real wizard. She still suspects it, too. He moved to washing the icing off her cheeks.

"Why can't I have any?" She pouted, so cute.

"Well, it's only for androids. It will make you really sick." She still seemed confused, but she nodded anyway, accepting it as one of those things she'll understand when she's older. He decided to switch topics.

"Are you excited for Christmas?"

"Yeah! Mommy says I've been really good dis year. She says we're gonna go see Santa tomorrow. I wish you could come." Connor felt a pang of guilt, seeing her little face fall.

"I'll see what I can do. Now, let's get you dried off and dressed then I'll read you a bedtime story."

.......

Aggy fell asleep halfway though 'Where the Wild Things Are'. He watched her for a few moments, pulling her little fish blanket up to her chin. Even after three years, he could not believe he was a father to such a beautiful baby girl. She looked just like him, light skin dusted with freckles, soft brown hair and eyes. You often complained how she didn't look a thing like you, but she did have your nose and your warm smile. He bent down and kissed her forehead, whispering 'I love you' before quietly backing out of the room.

SJ sat just outside Aggy's room. Connor bent down, scratching behind his ears, earning a delighted snort.

"I know you'll keep an eye on her. " SJ snorted again, "Good boy."

When he got to your shared bedroom, you were already under the blankets, sleeping. He quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants before climbing into bed with you, pulling you against him. You only stirred for a moment before falling back to sleep. You were so tired, and you still had to be up at 6 am to take Aggy to daycare. He would be gone by then, starting his day as early as possible to try and leave just as early, but so far, he has failed. As much as he enjoyed Christmas, it meant an increase in crime, in turn, an increase in work. He had agreed to help around the house and with Aggy, but had yet to find a balance between life and work. It seemed that every time he turned around, there was another investigation, another crime, another murder.

In the few hours he had at night, he would try to do some housework, as he didn't need sleep, but he had to be quiet, as you were a light sleeper, jumping up at any sound that could mean danger to your little girl. The most he could do is tidy up, assuming you didn't already.

You were more successful in a way, finally being allowed to train a few more emergency technicians so you could have a set schedule. But, being able to balance the two didn't mean you were balancing yourself as well. He didn't need to scan you to know how drained you are, the dark circles under your eyes told enough. You also weren't eating properly, only snacking on occasion. The only decent meal you eat is whatever you cook for Aggy. He'll have to find a way to make it up to you and help get you back on track with your health.

..................

"Connor!" the android jumped at the sudden booming voice from the top of the stairs. He turned away from the evidence locker, finally finished registering the evidence from their last case.

"Yes, lieutenant?"

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Hank marched up to him. Connor checked the time, eyes widening.

12:37 am

"Fuck!" He dashed out, grabbing his keys before Hank stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"They're already home in bed. No point killin' yerself tryin' ta speed home." Hank spoke sorrowfully. He felt bad for Connor. He often thinks back to the time he was in his shoes, work keeping him from his beloved son. He hates seeing him follow in his footsteps, but he can't convince him to leave, and he keeps losing track of the time, which he never used to do. Something's up, but he won't talk about it. It left Hank feeling frustrated.

Connor nodded, still moving at a swift pace, but not nearly as frantic. He bid Hank good night and headed out into the cold, winter air.

.......

You were still up when he entered the house. He half-hoped that you would be asleep so he wouldn't have to see you look at him like that. It wasn't anger, that would have been something he could defuse. It was disappointment, and it hit harder than anything you could say or do.

"I'm sor-"

"Connor, I don't want to hear it. 'Sorry' is only good if you learn something from it." He pierced his lips, looking down, unable to meet your gaze.

Please, stop looking at him like that.

"Do you know what Abby asked Santa for this year?" He shook his head.

"She asked for people to stop being bad so her daddy can come home." His 'heart' broke at those words. You didn't say anything, expecting him to say something, but what could he possibly say that wouldn't sound like the same excuses and promises he made before? Just then, his LED started to flicker, eyes twitching at the incoming message.

"Fowler just messaged me... There's been a homicide..." He spoke under his breath. You sighed, throwing your arms in the air.

"Go on then, go," you spoke flippantly, "go spend Christmas with your dead bodies and paperwork." you headed for the bedroom, but he rushed over and grabbed your arm.

"That's not fair. I have to do this, it's my responsibility." You sharply yanked your arm from his grasp.

"She is your responsibility. She won't always be a child, and if you're not careful, you'll regret the moments you didn't spend with her."

You walked away to the bedroom and closed the door, leaving him in a dilemma. Should he follow you, maybe find a middle ground, or should he go to the crime scene and hopefully have a suspect behind bars quickly? In the end, he had no idea what he could say to you, so he left, heading to Hank's to pick him up.

..............

"Yer a fuckin' idiot." The disgruntled lieutenant grumbled, a yawn escaping him while running a scanner over the body. He was getting too old for this shit.

Connor glared at him, deliberately sticking his finger in a small puddle of blood and dabbing it on his tongue, earning a disgusted look.

"You gonna keep bein' an ass all night?" Connor actually looked like he was gonna consider it, the little shit, but resigned with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I just don't know what to do anymore."

Hank hoisted himself from his knees, a pop and a grunt leaving him.

"That's why yer a fuckin' idiot. Shoulda just stayed home."

"But, Captain Fowler-"

"-Can find somebody else to do this shit. He gives it to ya because he knows you won't say no, and you'll drag my ass all over the damn city instead of bein' at home. It's fuckin' Christmas! You should be makin' every bullshit excuse possible to stay home with yer little girl." Hank started to smirk, "And if Y/n's attitude lately is any indication, ya might want to spend some "quality time" with 'er too."

The android only looked confused. He hadn't seen you much at work, you had been avoiding him, which hurt, but he assumed your cold temperament was just towards him.

"For fuck's sake! She even went off on Fowler! If I didn't know better, I'd think she was trying to beat my high score. How the hell haven't you noticed?"

Connor hacked into the police database and pulled up your file, finding 7 recent warnings regarding your attitude towards fellow officers, and one where you were sent home early after assaulting Detective Reed. He had no doubt started it, but it wasn't common for you to rise to the occasion. If it weren't for your impeccable record and generally calm demeanor, those warnings would likely be suspensions, if not worse. How hasn't he noticed?

"I don't know," he whispered incredulously. Had he been so engrossed in work that he was losing touch with everything around him?

"Well, you better figure it out, 'cause I think Y/n's 'bout to reach her boilin' point." Connor gulped at the thought. Your wrath was not an easy thing to contain, and you knew how to tear him apart, both figuratively and literally. Then he thought about how you looked at him a couple hours ago.

That can't happen again.

"Hank, you have to help me!" Last time Connor spoke to him with that level of desperation, Hank broke an FBI agent's nose, almost lost his badge, and was suspended for two weeks with no pay.

"What do you need me to do?" he smirked.

..................

A gasp leaves your lips as the veil of sleep started to lift. Something felt good, incredibly good. Large, smooth hands caressed your hips and stomach. You could feel a mouth, kissing your inner thighs, a tongue lapping at your folds. Surely, this must be a dream. You opened your eyes, blankets looming over you. You lifted them up, taking a peek underneath.

"Connor... Ahh... wha-...what are you doing?"

He pulled his head from between your legs, licking his lips of your juices.

"I would have thought it was obvious. I'm enjoying my breakfast before I make yours." He immediately dived back in, groaning against your sex.

"C-Con... we-fuck!" he started sucking on your bud, making your hips jolt. You tried covering your mouth, worried you might wake Aggy, but Connor took your hand away, lacing his fingers with yours, "We don't have tIME for this!" He laved his tongue along your entire slit as he pulled away again.

"I've made time. Now, please let me enjoy my feast," You gasped out his name as he slipped two fingers in, instantly attacking your weak spot again and again. Your thighs trembled, free hand tearing into the sheets. Connor groaned again, the vibrations reverberated throughout your entire being.

rA9, he had almost forgotten how good you tasted, how good you felt quivering under his touch. When was the last time he had met your human needs? How neglectful he has been. He dug his hips into the bed. He wanted to take you right now, but he had a mission, and he had to earn it. You were close, so close. He could feel it in how you fluttered around his fingers, how your fluids dripped down his wrist. He watched as you writhed against the sheets, your beautiful voice screaming his name, mewling how close you are.

Your back arched as you cried out stuttered syllables of his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Connor slowed his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. He stopped when you grabbed his wrist, easing his fingers out before licking them clean. You lay there, panting. He crawled up your body, pressing his lips to yours. He smirked when he noticed how dazed you were, lips barely keeping tempo. He crawled off you, fixing the blanket. You bolted up, breaking out of the bliss.

"Aggy! What if she heard us?" You stumbled to your feet, looking for where he discarded your panties while you slept. He only swept you off your feet and redeposited you on the bed, pinning you down with his body.

"Don't worry, she's not here. I asked Hank to watch her this morning. I believe he said he would take her Christmas shopping." You looked relieved, then amused at something.

"It's Christmas eve, and you sent our daughter with road-rage, people-hating, hot-tempered Hank to go last-minute Christmas shopping? She's gonna come back with a whole new vocabulary, and I hope you're prepared to deal with it," you laughed. He beamed down at you. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he last heard you laugh. He nuzzled against your face before settling against your neck.

"I've missed you," He mumbled into your skin, warm breath making you shiver. He hadn't realized how much until now, a pain he had allowed himself to grow accustomed to.

"I've missed you, too." He pulled back slightly, kissing you again before pushing off the bed.

"Now, your task today is to relax. You are not to lift a finger to do anything that does not aid in your comfort." Skeptical, you sat up.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but Christmas Eve means wrapping the last of the presents, getting stuff ready for "Santa", making dinner for us and Hank, not to mention, I'm still on call, so I-" he put his finger over your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Let me handle everything." He purred. You stared up at him, wanting to believe he could do it.

"What about work?" you spoke around his finger, "I can't get comfortable knowing I will have to take over once you're gone."

"I've taken my sick days and cut off all contact with the DPD today and tomorrow. If they need someone, they can call detective Reed." You stared for a moment more before jumping up and tackling him in a hug. One he gratefully returned.

Seeing how you seemed to keep trying to get out of bed, he relented on breakfast in bed, holding you against his chest as he carried you out of the bedroom, listening to you giggle the whole time. He set you on the couch, situating a pillow against one of the arms, then grabbing your legs and turning you to lay down. Taking the fleece throw from the recliner, he draped it over your body. Lastly, he presented you with the remote, imitating a devoted servant presenting a treat to his benevolent queen. You could feel yourself become spoiled with it all. Instead of taking the remote, you grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward into a kiss.

"Thank you," you smiled, full of warmth and love, no hint of the cold disappointment that had stared him down last night. A part of him just wanted to spend the day holding you, pressed as close as possible to feel your warmth encompass his entire being. Unfortunately, he was on a time limit, but the faster he worked, the faster he could do just that.

You put on several Christmas classics, ones you had shown him and had watched a dozen times this year alone. In the meantime, he had made you breakfast, even offering to feed it to you, but you declined, embarrassed. He disappeared into the bedroom for a while, wrapping the last of the gifts for Aggy and wrapping a few that he had gotten for you. His gifts from you were already wrapped. It was the only way to hide them from him since he wouldn't dare run a scan to find out what's inside. He learned quickly that you did not appreciate him ruining the surprise. He moved the gifts and candy from "Santa" to the front of the closet for easy access once Aggy went to bed. Only a few went under the tree.

He took a moment appreciating it, with all its twinkling lights and sparkling garland, the many ornaments that hung from the branches. The smell of the Douglas Fir had been lingering in the house since it was first brought in. It was the only thing he had actually done pertaining to Christmas this year. He learned his first year with you how adamant you were about real Christmas trees, having gone to the same tree farm every year since you came to live in Detroit. Had he not gone with you to select a tree, you would have brought home another blue spruce. While beautiful, they were a disaster to decorate. The sharp, tightly bundled needles made putting the lights on almost impossible, and you would have to wear thick gloves, as the tree not only tore into your skin, but just a small prick was enough for itchy welts to form. Even though his skin could not swell, he was not safe from their prickly revenge either, feeling every scratch against him. It was not the kind of tree he would want around Aggy should an accident occur.

Then there were the ornaments. Most were quite old and made of glass, another tradition you clung to, claiming the threat of broken glass was just part of the experience. He often wondered how you made it to the age you are in such an unsafe environment. Still, they showed quite magnificently, the lights gleaming off their carefully polished surface. There were a few clear globes with photos in the center, each embellished and labeled in gold paint. He could see his first Christmas, standing next to Hank while holding Sumo up for the picture. In another was his and your's first Christmas as a couple, standing in the doorway of the breakroom of the DPD, mistletoe hanging above us as we kissed. It was one of his favorite traditions.

There were several more, each depicting a happy memory, but one of his favorites was hanging near the top, almost at eye level with him. It was a photo of you, him, and Hank, with Sumo and SJ sitting in front. You had a bundle in your arms, the blanket pulled away just enough to reveal a tiny face. Aggy's first Christmas painted in perfect cursive.

"That's one of my favorite's too," your voice murmured quietly behind him.

"I can't believe that was two years ago." he continued to stare at the little face, cheeks rosy after having a fit.

"I know. You won't believe how fast they grow up," he finally turned and faced you, aware of what you were trying to drive home. He wrapped you up in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I know you're tired of hearing it, but I am. I should be here for you and for her. I've been neglectful, and I can't allow it to continue." he buried his face into your hair, "I love you."

"I love you, too." you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "I'm well aware of how busy you are. It's one of the benefits of working in the same place, but you can't make work your whole life. You might not have noticed, but you were starting to shut down on me." He didn't think he had changed, quickly accessing his backlog. He had thought he was avoiding you to prevent an argument, but he sees now he had been cutting you off for weeks before. Since the...

"The Erikson case..." you pulled back to look into his eyes.

"The Erikson case? Love, I know that one hit close to home, but you already got the guy. He's going to rot in jail, probably sipping his meals through a straw, because of you," your hand caressed his cheek.

"She looked like you," he murmured, "and her child was only a few months younger than Aggy." He had nightmares, his mind replacing the slaughtered wife and toddler with you and Aggy, his voice mocking him in the background.

The Eriksons had been a victim of the 'Violet killer'. A serial killer that targeted androids with families, systematically disposing of the wife, then the husband, usually with the children in the room before killing them as well. The media gave him the nickname after his second attack, 'violets' being one of the more pleasant terms used when describing children born from a human and an android. Two colors mixing together to create a new one.

He and Hank had been given the case from another jurisdiction, uncommon, but being what he is, they believed he could solve the case. In reality, they had thought the suspect was an android, seeing as there were no fingerprints at any of the crime scenes, and didn't want the media after their ass. Having an android investigate android crimes helps with that, even if his popularity at New Jericho dropped. With two families already killed, he had to work fast. He hadn't even received all the evidence before he got the call to go to another crime scene.

This one was only a few blocks from his home, far from the other two scenes. It was a warning. The killer knew where he lived. Michelle Erikson was small in stature, with a similar build to you, and she wore her hair much like you did, though her's was a few shades lighter. It was enough to give him the impression that the killer also knew what you looked like, the lieutenant making the connection as well. Hank wanted Connor to take himself and his family out of town, where they could be safe, but knowing you and Aggy were in danger, he felt nowhere was safe.

Her husband was holding her and his son's hands as he slowly shut down. Their fate would be his own if he didn't avenge them.

It became a race against time, though, had the previous detectives not gotten hung up on an android doing this, they would have had their man after the first murder. Daniel Kachcoff, a middle-aged veteran who lost both his arms in combat to an android. Cyberlife had fixed him up with his own pair of mechanical arms. 'Taken by a bot, replaced by a bot,' Hank had said. He was working as a rookie officer when the murders began, which is how he learned who had taken over the case. The man was quickly apprehended and is currently awaiting trial.

Despite overwhelming evidence and testimony, Connor fears what could happen if Daniel is not kept behind bars. The man has friends upstairs working to get him off. If it weren't for the other detectives giving the case to an Android, they might have had a chance, as some of the evidence has gone missing, prompting an internal investigation. In any case, he had the evidence registered and a 3d image of everything saved in both the police file and his personal files to ensure it was safe. He had done everything in his power, going above and beyond to ensure the sick bastard will spend the rest of his life in prison, and it still didn't feel like enough.

During the interrogation, he almost made the whole case come crashing down.

"I wonder if little Agatha would have her mother's color, or dear old dad's?"

Connor broke his jaw.

Since then, rather than deal with his mounting stress, he pushed it aside, adding to it from time to time. If he kept his focus on work, he could keep people like that off the streets and away from his wife and child. It was a stupid plan. He could devote every minute of his life to his job and still never make a dent in the population at large. He knew this, but he couldn't stop, and he didn't want anyone to know. It was his obsession, making ridiculous and impossible missions that he knew he would inevitably fail. The only difference with this one and the countless other times he threw himself at his work was that he felt if he failed this one, he could lose everything.

You recognized that look. The look of an android over-analyzing and a man who feels powerless. Together, those eyes can see every path to failure, and those downturned lips can rationalize every choice made as the only option. When those two forces collide, you have taken the responsibility of being his eyes, to help him see beyond those invisible walls of red he traps himself behind. Your lips are there to remind him that life isn't about success or failure, black and white.

"My love, you make everything so complicated. I am a capable officer, as are you, " you took hold of his face, caressing his cheekbones, "As long as we are vigilant, don't do anything dumb, like spending all our free time away from each other, then we will be fine. Don't let one psychopath ruin everything you've built."

"He was so close. If he had decided to target you first-"

"We would have been fine. I would have been at work and Aggy was in daycare. At night, we have SJ watching over us, " the dog looked up at the mention of his name, a small "borf" affirming your words, "he might be a big oaf like his dad, but he loves his little sister. Nobody is getting past him unscathed."

He knew you were right, but he couldn't shake his doubts. "Aggy is away from us for several hours a day."

You groaned, "you are such a worry-wort! Why would she be kidnapped?" He just stared down at you with his doe-eyes. You sighed, "Look, I didn't want to tell you, because I know how you feel about it, but when you told me about the threats, I pulled Aggy out of her old daycare."

"You, what?" Another instance to remind him of his neglect at home. He didn't even know where his own daughter was half the time.

"I've been taking her to New Jericho, " he cringed, turning away from your hands, "they have a daycare for Android parents, whether the kid is from a previous relationship, a violet, or even an Android. It serves two purposes, to educate and to help android caregivers who can't find employment elsewhere. A lot of them bare scars, but still love caring for children. They teach the importance of morals and individual thinking. Aggy fell in love with the daycare and thinks all the caregivers are really pretty. They adore our little girl."

"What's to stop one of them, or even just one of the residents from telling her what I've done?" He doesn't want her to know what a monster he was. Not yet. Not until she is old enough to understand.

"I asked them not to." Was your simple answer, "It's been years, and you have done so much good for the community. Even that case helped to boost your reputation. Little Aggy has been helping too. They can't imagine a sweet and caring little girl coming from a cold, unfeeling machine." You smiled, "I'm not going to pretend that everyone has forgiven you and everything is amazing and perfect, but you've slowly been winning them over, and someday, you'll get the respect you deserve."

He smiled back, "So, Aggy has been going to New Jericho." It is safe, North saw to that.

"Yes, she's been helping Uncle Simon and Uncle Markus decorate. Uncle Josh has been helping her with her vocabulary, and even Auntie North has been showing her the fine art of hide and seek." Markus, Simon, and Josh were not a surprise, they doted on his daughter as if she was their own, but he had not known North to be affectionate with children, let alone his own child.

You gave him a hug, "We'll be alright, but I need you. You can't keep pushing us away every time you feel that being associated with you will get us killed. How many times are we gonna go through this before it sinks into that thick, plastic skull of yours? Aggy deserves to have a father."

"And you deserve to have a husband. I'm sorry I haven't been fulfilling my roles." You pulled back from the hug, side-eyeing him.

"You gonna learn something this time? Because if not, I might have to resort to more drastic measures." He hummed, picking up your hand and placing it back on his cheek, kissing the palm.

"Please do, " he purred. You blushed, giggling at his suggestive tone.

"Shame somebody has to start on dinner, " you cooed back, grin on your face.

"If I get the vegetables peeled, I should have thirty minutes before I have to put the roast in the oven." He gleamed.

"Would you like some help?" You figured the faster he finished, the longer you had him all to yourself. Other than the incident this morning, you haven't had any "intimate" moments for several weeks, and sex had been nonexistent with Connor being gone all the time. But, he dropped your hand, ushering you back onto the couch.

"Absolutely not, for two reasons. One, you are not to do anything that isn't about your comfort, and two, I do not trust you with the vegetable peeler. I can handle it."

"Rude, but not untruthful, " you had scars on your fingers from that stupid thing, "alright, I'll just wait here." You gestured dramatically. He huffed, quickly going to set up dinner. It was three right now. Hank was informed to be back at 4:30. That should be plenty of time to set up your five o'clock dinner, have some "quality time", shower, and finish cleaning up before they arrived.

Cooking was something he has come to enjoy. Before he had taste receptors, he was terrible at it. He didn't understand why certain foods reacted erratically no matter how accurately he would repeat his actions. Seasonings were also lost on him, only seeing the nutritional value. After he had updated his tongue, per your insistence, he learned that just because it was full of essential nutrients and low on calories, it doesn't make it good. He didn't know how you and Hank survived his cooking. After much practice, his skills improved to the point you would light up when he offered to cook, something he enjoyed seeing. It made it well worth the effort. While he may not be able to stomach solids, liquids were easily filtered through his system, so he often indulged in tasting the broths or juices as he cooked.

As he peeled the vegetables, he could hear 'It's a Wonderful Life' coming from the living room. A movie full of plot holes, but he finds he enjoys it immensely. He remembers when you had first showed it to him.

.................

"I imagine if you never existed, I'd probably be an old maid," you laughed.

"I don't think I could imagine a world without you," he smiled. Your cheeks were so red as you moved closer to him, kissing him so hard he couldn't think or do anything. When you pulled back, he chased after, craving more. You kissed him again, pushing his head onto the arm of the couch before swiftly pulling away.

"You are so sweet, I just had to have a taste."

....................

Yes, he enjoyed that movie greatly, he grinned to himself.

With the vegetables and roast soaking in broth, He wrapped it in foil, setting a timer to remind him to turn on the oven. After washing his hands, he took a deep breath to calm his excitement, then rounded the corner to the couch, but you weren't there.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?" He turned in the direction of your voice, and gulped. You stood in the hallway, wearing a see-through, red-lace bralette trimmed with faux fur, matching panties, and garter belt hooked to a pair of thigh-high, candy cane striped stockings, ending at a pair of ruby red high heels. Your hair looked perfectly tousled, and sitting right above your breasts was a bow. A small whine left him as his hands tingled, desperately wanting to touch.

"You know you're allowed to open one present on Christmas Eve," you moved closer, every step making his thirium pump beat faster until you draped your arms over his shoulders, "you might not have the time to fully enjoy it, but I'd like you to open this one." His hands went to your hips, gliding down to your ass and giving it a squeeze.

"I don't think I've been good enough this year to earn such a spectacular gift," his eyes couldn't stop wandering your form.

"Lucky for you, I know people," you snickered, "Nobody puts my man on the naughty list but me." You punctuated your words with a roll of your hips against him, already feeling his hard length through his jeans. He unexpectedly pulled back.

"Would you mind doing a turn for me?" Your confusion melted into a lopsided grin, backing up a step and slowly turning, fingers going to your panty line and giving him a peek as you shook your ass. He groaned, appreciating the view. When you faced him again, he had a blank stare for a moment before meeting your gaze.

"What did you just do?" You narrowed your eyes.

"I've made a 3D image for... Personal use," he stated, matter of fact, as if he didn't just tell you he was collecting masturbation material. If that wasn't a boost to your ego. You moved forward again, the slow click of your heels making you feel powerful.

"You can do more than look," you leaned forward, whispering in his ear, "don't you wanna play with your new toy?" You kissed under his ear, enjoying the gasp that left his lips and how he shuttered under your touch. Next thing you knew, he had you pressed up against the wall, legs wrapped around his hips.

"It really is... a shame... we are so short on time," he spoke between ravishing your neck with little love bites. His fingers went to slide your panties out of the way when he noticed something. He leaned back and seen the open seam, your sex wet and ready for him.

"I'm tired of replacing my underwear every time you get a little frisky," you giggled. It quickly morphed into a moan as he slid two fingers past your folds.

"An excellent choice," he rasped, "this should save us a few moments." His skilled fingers worked you open, stretching and curling against your heat. Being held up left you at a disadvantage, but you still made for his jeans, unbuttoning them and working your hand past the zipper.

He gasped. He felt so sensitive, pressing firmly against your body. Had it been so long that even his body had forgotten how good it felt to be touched? He was running out of time. Slipping his fingers out of your heat, he pulled your hand out of the way, guiding it to his shoulder. He kissed you as he worked his jeans and boxers to his thighs, groaning into your mouth at the relief. Your legs wrapped more securely around his waist, angling your hips for him. He slid himself within your tight walls in one, smooth thrust, his moan intermingling with yours. He was shaking, fighting to restrain himself while you adjusted to the stretch. It was almost embarrassing how effected he is, moaning your name when you ground your hips with his, signaling you were ready. There was no stopping him once he started bucking his hips, starting slow, but quickly picking up his pace.

"F-fuck... You're so tight..." He groaned, burying his face into your neck, "so warm." With his face pressed to your throat, he could feel each moan he brought from you. Your heels were digging into his backside as you tried to get him as deep as possible, certainly leaving marks. Not that he'd complain.

"You feel perfect... Ahh... S-s-so good..." You mewled, "suhhaa-sahhuch a good boy..." He moaned loudly at your praise, twitching within you and picking up speed. He was getting close already. Taking a hand off your hip, he slipped between both your bodies, finding your bud and teasing it, finding your nerve and making you cry out as you spasmed against him.

"Come for me, my love." He pressed a little harder against you, and with one more thrust, you threw your head back, screaming his name, eyes rolling back into your skull. The squeeze along his throbbing member sent him over the edge only a few moments later, pressing as close as possible as he emptied himself deep within. He kept you pinned there for a moment as he caught his breath, cooling his system. You clung to him limply, huffing against his shoulder, occasionally pressing a kiss to it.

Suddenly, his vision started to flash.

"Time to preheat the oven," he mumbled. You whined in protest as he pulled back, cock slipping out as he carried you back to the couch and laid you down.

"Once the roast is in, I can join you in the shower." He tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled up his jeans.

"Fine," you groaned, "but this better stop being a 'once in a blue moon' thing."

He bent down, shoving his tongue in your mouth and twirling with yours, re-igniting your embers.

"Don't count on it. I'm hoping to have a "quickie" in the shower." His air-quotes made you laugh. Still playing ignorant after all these years. He grinned and pulled away, returning to his tasks feeling a lot more calm and collected.

........

Hank knocked on the door right as you laid back on the couch, hair still damp from your shower, wearing comfortable jeans and one of Connor's sweaters. You could hear Aggy ask why he knocked, laughing as you heard Hank stammer out about not wanting to just burst in like some burglar. You knew in actuality, he didn't want to risk walking in on you two, both for Aggy's sake and his. Connor grabbed the door.

"Daddy!" Aggy bounced in Hank's arms, stretching her little hands out to him. Both of them were covered in snow, big flakes falling outside behind them.

"Hello sweet pea," he smiled as he took her from Hank, who immediately started rolling his shoulders, "did you behave for grandpa?"

"Yeah! We had breckfist and went to da mall and some bitch on her phone stole our parking spot, but granpa didn't say dat." Aggy turned to Hank and actually winked. It was quiet for half a second before you snorted. Oh my god, she is her daddy's child.

Connor glared at Hank, who only looked away, scratching at the back of his head.

"Let's go hang your jacket up to dry," Connor turned away, murmuring in Aggy's ear, no doubt trying to explain why she shouldn't say things like that. Hank kicked off his boots, hung up his own jacket and plopped down on the recliner.

"Smooth move, Ex-Lax," you smirked.

"Jesus, how old are you?" Hank grouched.

"Old enough to know not to make deals with either the devil or children," he huffed, making you grin wider, "How much she ring out of ya?"

"Five bucks."

"Dang, three years old and already a con artist. Looks like she did get something from me." You laughed. Hank only shook his head before chuckling himself.

"Good to see yer in a better mood."

"Yeah," you sobered, 'I'm sorry for snapping at, well, everyone. It's been stressful, with Connor being away all the time, but I shouldn't have-"

"It's alright, I get it. Raising a kid is hard, made worse when ya have ta do it by yerself. I hope ya knocked some sense into 'im."

"You could say that," you got a shit-eating grin on your face. Hank stared for a moment before his face contorted into disgust.

"I don't wanna know. Keep yer damn mouth shut." He sneered.

"Watch yer own mouth, or Connor will threaten us with starting a swear jar again."

"It's not a threat," Connor came around the corner, setting Aggy down next to you before joining the group, "I believe it will be beneficial to help you both learn to be more professional. I've decided we are starting one in the new year."

"Come on, Connor! I'm a grown man!" Hank grouched.

"I'm gonna be poor!" You whined.

"So, it's decided. Aggy has already agreed to decorate the jars." Connor grinned while you and Hank scowled.

"Daddy says the money goes to me at dah end of each month!" Aggy proclaimed proudly.

"Using my own daughter against me," you cried in disbelief, but unable to hide your smile.

The rest of the evening was spent with merriment, watching Christmas classics and you and Hank told stories of past Christmases. When dinner was ready, Connor served out a delicious roast, the meat was so tender it practically melted in your mouth. Towards the end of the evening, Hank passed out on the couch. Rather than waking him, you draped a blanket over his snoring form. SJ was using Sumo as a pillow, adding to the symphony of snores. Aggy was fighting to stay up, curled up in the recliner.

"Come on, young lady, let's get you to bed," you bent down and picked her up, Connor right behind you.

"But, I wanna see Santa," she yawned.

"Silly girl. He only comes if you're fast asleep," you held her close to you, not noticing how Connor gazed at you and Aggy, like you were his entire world. His chest was warm, and he felt... Complete.

"But, I wanna thank him." She whined.

"For what, little one?" You cooed.

"For daddy. He didn't havfta go to work today, and grampa said he's not gonna go tomorrow either." You looked over to Connor and he smiled wider.

"Don't worry, Santa knows," Connor murmured, tucking her in when you laid her down on her bed, "and I promise that I will spend more time with you."

She sat up, throwing her little arms around his neck.

"I love you, daddy." Connor wrapped his arms around his sweet, caring, thoughtful, perfect little girl.

"I love you, too." He reluctantly pulled away, re-covering her in her blankets, "good night, sweet pea."

"Good night, daddy. Good night, mama. I love you." You kissed her forehead.

"I love you, too. Now, get some rest, little one." She was out like a light. You and Connor backed out of the room. Connor caught you as you tripped over SJ and Sumo, who had since moved to sit in front of Aggy's door.

"Like father, like son," you giggled quietly, following Connor into your shared bedroom.

"I really am an idiot, aren't I," Connor looked to you, still smiling as he unbuttoned his shirt. You tossed your jeans in the laundry basket, keeping the sweater on.

"Yes, but you're my idiot," you threw on a pair of shorts, knowing your little girl was likely to come in at the crack of dawn, jumping up and down, disturbing the peace. Connor switched to track pants and an undershirt. He crawled in first, arms open. You dived right in, feeling his strong arms lock you in place against his chest. You could hear his thirium pump beating away, and feel the rumble of his voice against your cheek.

"Hey, Con?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

Connor kissed the top of your head.

"Merry Christmas, my love."

Chapter Text

It hurts. It encompasses your every thought. It makes you wish you could hate him, though you know you never could. Even as the petals are violently forced out of your lungs, tearing their way out of your throat with every cough and heave. It was that love that you felt that had damned you.

You couldn’t blame him for not returning your affections, he was so new to emotions. All you had wanted was to help him experience all that life had to offer. As he grew more comfortable coming to you for any new experiences, you saw new sides to him. He wanted to learn of affection, and had asked you for assistance, and, like a fool, you agreed.

He was so awkward at first, but you let him grow accustomed to your body. His gentle touches and soft kisses grew more passionate, and your stupid brain interpreted it as love. You let him in, thinking you might have meant something more, that you could be something more to him. The illusion was always broken when he would get up and leave once he had ‘accomplished his mission’.

One day, he introduced you to another woman, an Android, named Chloe. You had encouraged him to make more Android friends, knowing your many human fealties made you all the more incompatible. That didn’t mean you weren’t shocked when it did happen. Jealousy whispered in your ear, telling you how perfect she looked and how flawed you are. When he said he was starting an intimate relationship with her, razors ripped into your chest, tearing apart your breaking heart. You didn’t let it show, pretended to be happy for them. It had been that day that you had died, and these few months was your penance. Punishment for your idiocy, mocking the fire that slowly consumed you.

That night, you spent it weeping into the late hours, and as the sun rose, the coughing began. A single, long white petal marked you among the damned. Everyone knew what hanahaki disease was, even if nobody wanted to talk about it. Who wanted to admit that another had control of your own fate? Still, in that little petal, glistening with the rising sun, you saw him, knowing he could never be yours.

You expected him to cut you off completely now that he had Chloe, and while you were no longer intimate, he still insisted on coming to you when he wanted to do something, or was confused. It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, but when he started asking you relationship questions or when Chloe’s behavior confused him, you would snap, unable to handle the knife twisting in your chest. You would begin a coughing fit after storming away, each worse than the last.

The white petal became petals so quickly, or maybe knowing you had so little time left, it just seemed to fly past. Morbid curiosity made you look up what the fates cursed you with. Tuberose. and if you weren’t so busy choking, you would have laughed at the irony.

'Dangerous pleasures’

Fuck the fates and their poor sense of humor.

Hiding it was the worst part. You slowly severed ties with everyone you knew. You couldn’t be with anyone for long periods of time or they might notice how pale you were becoming, how weak you were, or the wheezing that was getting worse by the day. If they knew, they would insist on surgery, which might save your life, but would kill you on the inside. Never would you know of love again, of anything again. To never feel happiness, or even bitter sadness, passionate anger, or empathy… It is a fate worse than death.

Without it, those you love would have to watch you wither, deteriorate beyond recognition as the flowers stole your vitality. You would rather be hated than see the pity in their eyes. Let them remember you as you were, before he waltzed into your life and fucked everything up.

Soon, there was only one who still remained. Him. Connor kept trying to get to you, to open up, even after every bitter exchange. You couldn’t handle his kindness, only stirring up your feelings more, making everything worse. He was killing you faster by just being himself.

With your diminishing strength, you couldn’t handle your job anymore. Turning in your resignation was almost as painful as the flowers twisting around within. You loved your job, but you refused to leave as a hindrance. You will walk out with your head up, another sin for your corrupt soul to cling on to. Connor ran up to you when you were leaving, begging you to stay, for a reason why. You left him on the sidewalk, looking as heartbroken as you felt. Chloe was sure to comfort him once he goes home, while you only had your cat to share your agony with.

The vomiting started the following day. The constant hacking triggering your gag reflex, forcing everything up. Eating was impossible with the discomfort, not to mention, pointless. You were almost thankful when blood started mixing with the flowers, signifying the end. The stark white petals stained red, scattered around the house, no energy to properly clean them up.

Your phone chimed. Another message from Connor, asking if you wanted to watch a movie, acting like nothing had changed. You needed to reply, to tell him you were fine, tell him how you felt, tell him good bye and not to worry. Typing sentence after sentence, only to delete it over and over. Restarting what must have been the thousandth attempt, something felt wrong. Your eyes widened before a violent fit sent you to the ground, the phone slipping from your hand as you coughed. Whole flowers were coming up, mixed with deep crimson.

This was it. You were dying, and you were scared. You reached for your phone, foolish until the end, wanting to hear him one last time rather than call for help. You dragged yourself to the glow of your phone, even as the colors blurred, vision going in and out; or was that from your tears? You felt the cold plastic on your palm, but had no strength to pull your arm back. You had failed in your own final request.

You laid there, shivering from the cold.

Chapter Text

Nobody has seen you in a while. Connor had messaged you the night before, asking if you wanted to watch a movie. You have been so evasive lately, but you would always reply. Yet, as he checked his HUD once more, he received no message from you. 

It wasn’t late when he texted you, but perhaps you had fallen asleep. You had seemed tired as of late. Despite his logical conclusion, he spent the whole night watching for your message. 

Chloe seemed to have noticed how distracted he was, leaving in a huff. Just another thing he didn’t understand. You are his best friend. You had told him that yourself and he was happy to label you as such. So why would Chloe get so upset when he wanted to hang out with you or when he was concerned for your welfare? At the same time, why did you start acting so cold not long after he introduced you to Chloe? Wasn’t it you who suggested he be with more androids? Pointing out how you and Hank won’t always be around, reminding him of the painful truth he doesn’t want to think about. What was he supposed to do? The later it got, the more he wanted to just go to your house and see you. If he didn’t receive a message by morning, that was just what he was going to do. 

Outside your door, he could hear your cat meowing loudly. He knocked but his only answer was the cat crying out louder. When he tried the buzzer and still received no answer, he checked the door and found it unlocked, putting him on high alert. You knew better than to leave your door open. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

“Y/n!”

 You were lying face down in what appeared to be a drying puddle of blood, mixed with numerous stained flowers. He calls your name again, though it’s soft and broken as it leaves his lips.

“No, no, no, no, no…” He whimpers as he reaches out to shake you, only to feel your unnaturally cold skin on his palm. Your unseeing eyes are open, tears long dry on your cheeks. There is a flower, a tuberose, resting on your discolored lips. He doesn’t need to scan you to know that you are gone, but he does so anyway, seeing the plants that had bore into your body, still thriving in its dead host. 

He spies your unmoving heart and he quickly turns off his scanner. It shouldn’t be like that. It shouldn’t be like this. You should be alive, yelling at him for entering your house without permission or explaining why you didn’t call. Everything was so wrong.

He picks you off the ground with trembling hands, cradling you to his chest. He’ll likely be reprimanded at work for disturbing your body but he couldn’t care less. A thunk brings his eyes to your cellphone, having slipped from your limp hand. The screen lit up and he could see the last message you were trying to send. It was to him, a response, but all it said was,

I’m sorry

It made him want to chuck the offending technology at the nearest wall. Why would you be sorry? He failed you, his best friend. Had he just come over, been more adamant about spending time with you, seen the signs that were likely right in front of his face, there would have been a chance! You could have gotten surgery to remove the flowers! You could still be here with him!

With him.

Your cat, which had been consistently calling from your side until he picked you up, began rubbing his head against your hand, trying to get your attention. The poor creature had been the only witness of your demise, calling out for help but gone unnoticed, much like you.

……

He watched the paramedics carry your body away. There was no need for an investigation or an autopsy. One look inside your house told the officers all they needed to know. It was a solemn affair, nobody speaking unless absolutely necessary. 

 Your cat went to your neighbor, as you had requested by a note scribbled on the counter. An elderly woman who often enjoyed the feline’s company when he would escape out a window for the day. The cat hadn’t made a sound since Connor discovered you. He wanted to take the cat himself, the last remnant of you, but he would not go against your wishes. 

Hank ended up having to pick him up as he seemed to refuse to leave. He didn’t want to, because it would mean there was something beyond your doorstep and not simply the boundary of a horrific nightmare that he only needed to wake up from. He would awaken from stasis in his own bed, head straight to your house, barge in no matter what time it was or what you were doing and wrap his arms around you, confirming that you are alive and well.

 It would not be, however, as Hank practically dragged him to his car. No matter what Hank said, he could not get through to the catatonic android. He only sat in the passenger seat, staring at the dark blood on his hands, and the red-stained flower petals stuck to his shirt. Connor doesn’t even register when they had pulled up to his apartment. 

Hank was glad Chloe was already there, waiting out front. He didn’t want Connor to be alone right now. Chloe helped lead him to his couch, and it was there he remained. Even if Hank hadn’t already given him time off work to grieve, he wouldn’t move. He just didn’t see the point anymore.

It would be a week before you would be laid to rest. Connor had not moved in all that time. He didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t bare the thought of not seeing you one more time.

 Your funeral was small, so modest for a woman who had saved so many in her line of work. You requested that the DPD not attend, as you were no longer an officer and therefore no longer required a formal service. It only made him hurt more. You had burned so many bridges, yet he didn’t see what you were doing, what you were hiding. 

People often talk about how, seeing their loved one, lying within their casket, they could believe they were just sleeping. Connor wishes he could see that, but all he sees is your body, morbidly painted for display. It wasn’t that the mortician did a terrible job, in all honesty, you looked quite serene, but his eyes could see past the make-up and sculpting putty, to the truth that lay underneath it. 

The few grieving friends that attended would glare at him, a blame he didn’t understand at the time. They had abandoned you when you needed them most. He might not have known what was going on, but he didn’t simply walk away when your temperament soured. It wasn’t until he was home, Chloe holding his hand, that he understood. 

They had never connected before, but when the skin pulled back on both their hands, he was bombarded with her memories. Everything she ever experienced, ever felt, laid bare before him as if he were living her life. So much was made clear, yet it left him more perplexed in its wake. It was a fascinating experience, made intolerable when he realized the first thing he wanted to do was share it with you. 

He realized that what Chloe had felt towards him was not what he felt. It was a feeling tied to when you laid your head on his shoulder while watching old movies. It was weaker to how he felt the first time you let him kiss you, and every kiss you granted him with after, and it didn’t even compare to when he shared his body for the first time, your touch igniting his systems in a way he never experienced before.

Chloe didn’t like what she saw, or what she felt. She ripped her hand back as if his touch burned. Her incredulous eyes bore into him, demanding an answer he couldn’t give. She didn’t say a word as she left, but he knew she would not be back. 

Connor remained frozen in his spot, playing and replaying all his memories of you. He could see it then, and couldn’t understand how he didn’t before. It was there, always there, in your eyes.

 If only he had seen it before, maybe he would have realized when your face fell anytime he would say he was leaving, it was not from him over-staying his welcome. You wanted him to stay. The shock and anger you suppressed when you met Chloe was jealousy and envy, emotions he had very little knowledge of as you had devoted everything to him, spoiled him with your attention and affection. It was only through Chloe he felt such bitter emotions, when she saw him with you, smiling so much because of you. 

He had been the cause of your pain. Your loneliness.

Your death.

He broke. Drowning in the realization. You were gone. Forever. Never could he hold you again, see your smile, hear your laugh, or feel your touch. Only in memories could he be with you, his ignorance robbing him of happiness. 

His mind locked in a feedback loop, forcing him to watch every second of your descent into Hell while he took everything from you. His stress levels climbed with each play-through, each damning piece of evidence he had overlooked, your pale skin, increased heart rate, at one point, he had spied you wiping flower petals from your desk into the trash despite having no plants around you, yet he didn’t think twice on it. He didn’t deserve the title of being your ‘best friend’. You suffered for his avarice. Now, he was alone in a dark, cold world where he had eradicated his only source of light.

He wanted you back.

His stress level peaked, and before he realized what he was doing, his service weapon was in his hand, the muzzle tucked under his chin. His last thought was the message scrawled across your phone, your last words to him. It was all he could think to say to sum up his life.

I’m sorry.

Perhaps he’ll get it right… next time.

Chapter Text

Something wasn't right. It kept eating at him. You may have been reclusive lately, but you would always answer immediately, a minute at the most. However, It's been twenty since he asked you to 'hang out'. He missed you. He didn't like that you were pushing him away.

He stood up from his couch and headed towards the door.

"You're going to see her, aren't you?" Chloe's voice called from behind him. She had been spending more and more nights at his apartment. When things were good, he didn't mind, but things rarely stayed merry for long and when that happened, he felt like an intruder in his own home. During these times, he wished you would let him come over. He was comfortable around you, able to be himself. Unlike now, where he is contemplating telling Chloe that he got a call from the DPD, from Hank, or Markus, just to avoid the argument that telling the truth was sure to spawn. In the end, his preconstructions informed him of his low success rate, deciding it really didn't matter. He only gave a moment's pause before slipping his boots on.

"I have to. I think something's wrong."

"If you leave, I won't be here when you come back, " her voice had a dangerous edge to it. This was not the first time he had put you above her. They had many arguments about it, but it was about to be the last.

He looked over his shoulder before opening the door. 

"I'm sorry."

And with that, he left.

Climbing into his car, Connor was surprised how easy it was to cut ties with Chloe. They had been in a relationship for two months now, and he did care for her. Surely this should affect him on some emotional level, but all that he could feel is dread. You still haven't answered him, even as he sent several more messages and tried calling you. It was making him frantic, pushing him to switch to manual steering, speeding around corners and intersections. 

He managed to get to your house in record time. A knock and a call of your name only prompted your cat to start mewling loudly, but he knew you were home. He banged on your door before finally giving up on formalities and trying the handle. He was surprised to find it unlocked, panic surging through his artificial veins. It all came to a stop when he found you on the floor, reaching for your phone with blood-soaked fingers.

"Y/n!" 

Wasting no time, he called for an ambulance as he bolted to your side. You were surrounded by flower petals stained a deep red. A quick scan confirmed his suspicions. 

Hanahaki disease. 

The roots were so entangled within that his scanner was having trouble differentiating between the roots and your arteries. He could see how they twisted around your inner workings, each it's own form of agony, and he could see where several had punctured through your lungs, slowly flooding your airways.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you to his chest. The movement set off another fit, but it was weak, you being too tired to fight against it anymore.

"Help is on the way, just hang on, " his voice was strained, forcing the words out in an effort to calm you when you both knew they wouldn't be able to help. The accursed plant was too large now and unless it perished it would cause just as much damage to try and remove it.

Your glossy eyes fought to focus on him, mouthing his name but unable to say it, only a gurgled cough escaped along with more flower petals. The sound crushed his heart. He didn't know what to do. At this point, he wishes you had been assaulted by a burglar. At least then he would be able to attend to your wounds. How can he stop a flower from growing? Who could you love so much that you would die for them? 

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?" His eyes welled up with tears, dripping down his face and onto your cheeks. He wants to find the person responsible. To break them to match how broken you are. Only an idiot could deny the chance to be with you.

Unable to speak, you reached your hand up, cupping his face, thumb rubbing against his cheek, wiping away his tears. He could feel a warm wetness from your palm, knowing it was likely your blood, but he didn't care. He leaned into your touch, placing one of his hands over yours.

Your lips moved, mouthing the words that made him realize that he was the idiot. A sob escaped him, watching as you slipped in and out of consciousness. Your hand went limp against his cheek. 

"Please... Don't go... Don't leave me, " he sobbed, pulling you closer,  "I... I love you. I love you so much." How could he be so stupid? You gave him everything he asked so freely, and he had mistaken the feelings that had bloomed as friendship rather than something more, something deeper. He can't lose you. "I love you, " he whispered against your ear as he held you closer against his chest.

You sharply gasped, eyes wide before you began a fresh wave of coughing, this one far more violent. It was in this moment that the paramedics burst through the door, shoving the android out of the way and rushing you to the back of the ambulance. He didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. All you left behind was a single, dead petal. He picked it up and clutched it to his chest.

You were in surgery for 17 hours as android and human alike worked together to repair the damage and remove the now dead, shriveled plant from within your inner workings. 17 hours with no news as Connor paced the entire time, still clutching the withered petal against him. Seeing it, feeling its course surface, he is reminded there is a chance. That, with it dead, you could be saved.

 Hank stopped by during the tenth hour, after hearing what happened when Connor didn't show up for his shift. Hank had known you were sick, caught you coughing into a black handkerchief, the color likely hiding the blood. Anytime he asked you about it, you brushed him off, eventually snapping at him to leave you alone. He had no idea what it was, or that it was this bad. Had he had known, he wouldn't have been so quick to back off. Of course, being what it is, you likely would have continued on your self-destructive path, unwilling to lose your emotions. Can't really blame ya. As much as he wished to stop feeling after Cole, he couldn't imagine life without them, like a machine.

"Connor, sit your ass down, she's gonna be fine," Hank groused. he wasn't very confident about his declaration, he's seen what hanahaki can do to a person, but he'd say anything if it would calm his partner down, make him get rid of that broken look on his face. Connor acknowledged him, sat for all of five minutes, clutching something in his hand, before standing back up and returning to pacing back and forth.

Where the hell was Chloe? Wait, scratch that. Connor, looking like a stiff breeze could blow him over, over another woman, a woman even Hank thought he was gonna get serious with, and, to top it off, the woman is only dying because of him... yeah, if he were Chloe, he wouldn't be here either. probably would've dumped his ass.

"Wearin' a path into the floor ain't gonna make them work any faster. Just calm down." Connor looked over at him, the sight breaking the old man's heart. 

"I can't."

That was all he could get out of the devastated android. He stood, grabbing Connor by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight embrace. The RK800 stood frozen for a moment before a sob escaped his throat, hands gripping tightly at the lieutenant's coat. Hank held him, feeling him quake with every hushed cry.

"She'll be alright, she'll pull through," he consoled, a few tears escaping his own eyes as his heart ached for his boy. After a long while, Connor had finally calmed down, releasing his death grip on Hank's jacket and pulling back, giving the man a brief, wry smile.

"Thanks, Hank, " he breathed, letting it out while wiping at his face. Glancing at his, now empty, hands, Connor looked to the ground, searching urgently for something. Before Hank could question it, he seemed to have found what he was looking for, watching him pick up what looked like a small, old leaf.

"Whatcha got there?" Connor hesitantly held it out for him to see, as if Hank would snag it away like he had done with so many of his quarters. 

"She had coughed it up right when the paramedics showed up, " he pulled it back to his chest.

"So it died?" Hank sounded incredulous, eyeing the android.

"I... I told her I love her..." 

The grizzled lieutenant merely nodded. The plant could only die if genuine feelings are expressed. He had to bite his tongue against saying 'bout damn time', knowing that would only worsen the poor kid's pain. He had no idea, and you were willing to die rather than voice your feelings, claiming to want Connor to 'find his own way'. Hank knew better. You were scared. Once you were better, Hank was gonna give you an earful for letting fear and pride blind you and damn near kill you.

 Hank was there for another three hours before Fowler called him. He was adamant about staying, but Connor urged him to go, only agreeing under the condition that he is informed the second you were out of surgery.
……….. 

The head surgeon came out, informing him of the damage he already knew of and all the work needed to pull you back from the brink. You weren't out of the woods, but you were stable. He was thankful that you had listed him as your emergency contact, as when they tried to explain you were still in bad shape and resting, he went to your room anyway. He had to see you, no matter what state you are in.

You had so many machines hooked to you, and your frail form seemed more so against the stark white bed. Connor sat in the chair beside you, taking one of your fragile hands between his own, the petal he had clung to this entire time, now resting in his breast pocket. He watched as your chest gently rose and fell, but it felt so artificial, being forced in by the tube down your throat. A scan of your body revealed all the work that had gone in to save you, and the devastation the plant had wreaked. He watched your heart, beating at a languid pace, matching the slow beeps of the monitor. It was weak, but it was there.

Your face was so pale, and you looked so worn. How long had you been battling against the manifestation of your lament? Why couldn't you have just told him? So many nights spent lying tangled together... why didn't you ask him to stay? Had he understood human emotions more, understood his own better...   

There was no going back, now.

he stayed by your side, unmoving even as the nurses would try to tell him that you needed your rest, to come back during visiter hours. Knowing of your condition deterred them from doing much else. He only moved when the nurses needed to care for you, returning to your side the second they were done. He asked Hank to care for your cat. Connor felt terrible for leaving the feline alone after it had witnessed such a tragic event, but he couldn't leave you, not again. Whatever happens now, he will be here, by your side.

Two days passed with no change. Hank stopped by a couple of times, but he didn't stay for long, feeling like he was intruding. He would ask if Connor wanted anything and if he thought of something, just let him know. A couple of your friends had stopped by as well, the few that still cared for you even as you pushed them away. Once they learned what happened, they realized what you were doing, what you had done to hide your illness. They left little gifts, as flowers felt a little inappropriate, considering the situation, wishing you well. One brought a fleece blanket, knowing how much you loved the soft material and how you hated feeling cold. How ironic it was that your favorite season was Winter. Most ignored his existence, though two glared at him. How could he blame them, sitting here, going over memory after memory. It was there, your feelings written in everything you did. how he did not see was beyond him. 

A jarring sound broke him from his thoughts. A sustained beep resonating from your monitor. Panicked, he scanned your chest to find your heart still, lifeless. A few nurses burst in, paging for a doctor while trying to resuscitate you. They knocked him out of the way, and he watched in horror as they fought to bring you back.

"Don't go," he whimpered, seeing them bring out the paddles. Your body jumped when they pressed them down to your chest, the monitor hiccuping before flatlining once more. He couldn't handle it. His chest aching in a way he had never experienced before, making him want to rip his own thirium pump out to make it stop. 

"DON'T GO!!!" he cried out despairingly. One of the nurses looked to him in annoyance.

"Get him out of here." Two large men came up, attempting to grab him. He struggled and fought, trying to remain with you. One of them punched him in the temple...

He jolted in his seat, unaware of his surroundings for a second. He was still in your hospital room. You remained in bed, unaware of the outside world.

At some point, he had slipped into stasis, the stress bleeding into his dreamscape, resulting in the horrible nightmare that left him trembling. You had not gone into cardiac arrest. You had not left him. A diagnostic told him he had entered low power mode for 7 hours. He couldn't believe so much time had passed and he didn't notice.  Still, he picked up your hand and held your wrist against his ear, listening to the steady pulse. It was enough for now.

The soothing thumps kept lulling the emotionally drained android in and out of stasis. Though, with the added reassurance, it was a dreamless slumber, his body merely processing background information and attempting to maintain, if not lower, his elevated stress level by shutting down as many systems as it could without causing issues. The hours passed by in what felt like minutes. 

The following day, they decided to remove your artificial breathing. The doctor observed as the android nurse removed the tube from your throat. Connor watched with bated breath, fear striking him like lightning each second your chest remained still. Finally, you sucked in a harsh breath, gasping a few times before your breathing stabilized, slow and uneven and very much alive. A tear escaped his eye as relief washed over him. 

On day nine, a tug at his hands and the loss of your warmth against his face brought him out of stasis once more. 

Your eyes were fluttering open, hands going into the blanket, balling the material up in your fists.

"Ahh," you gasped, eyes wide as tears began to form. Your monitor began beeping faster, heart racing as you struggled to figure out what was happening. Your rapid breathing irritated your damaged throat, triggering a coughing fit, making it worse. You pulled at the iv in your arm, panic rising. Connor quickly pulled your hand away before you could get it out, then paged a nurse. He put his hand on your cheek, trying to get your attention. 

"Y/n, it's alright, you're at the hospital," he was unsure if his words were registering in your pain-laced mind, "I've got you... I've got you."

Your coughing eased as your breathing started to slow, but the tears continued to fall. There was some blood on your lips, prompting Connor to scan you. Luckily, there was minimum damage, nothing that would require you to go back into surgery. The nurse finally showed up. Seeing the situation, she promptly left again, grabbing a needle and injecting your IV with liquid relief. Your hand gripped his free hand tightly before you were out once more. It was an intense interaction, but you had awakened. He planted a small kiss on your brow, wiping your tears away and dabbing away the blood, promptly returning to his previous position, feeling more hopeful than before. He didn't let go of your hand.

You were improving, and soon he would be able to tell you how he feels, without fear and despair enveloping everything. When you are better, he might even scold you a bit for keeping such a huge secret from your "best friend". He wondered what will they be now? "Dating", as he had classified him and Chloe? Or, perhaps, "girlfriend and boyfriend" as Chloe had labeled them? Than again, considering all that the two of you have done in the past, would it be the title of " lovers"? He supposes he'll leave those titles for you to decide, as long as he can label you "mine" and you do the same in return. 

It would be two more days before you would regain consciousness again. Hank had brought him spare clothes the previous day, as when you had woken up, something within himself woke up as well. He felt more alive than the previous days, more himself. 

With it, he noticed how disheveled he was, pointing out that he was still wearing the clothes from the night he had found you, the blood long dried and beyond smelling like copper to a rancid scent that could not be healthy. In his trance, he had not noticed, but now, he was certain you would not appreciate the foul air once you woke up again. Most of the blood on his cheek had been washed away by his tears, but some still remained, sticking to his face unpleasantly. He borrowed the bathroom that was adjacent to your bed, washing his face and hands before switching clothes. He wanted to look presentable for when you awoke again.

He had also requested for an extra sweater, which he draped over you. In one of his memories, he had forgotten his sweater at your house. When he went to retrieve it, he found that you were sleeping, the sweater held close to your chest. At the time, he thought you were cold, as the blanket was kicked off of you, so he carefully took his sweater from your arms and pulled the blanket up. Seeing it now, he cringed, having realized that was probably the worst conclusion and action he could have come up with. 

When you awoke, it was not nearly as dramatic as the last time. Your eyes were slow to focus, and you kept trying to look around, confused. Eventually, your eyes found him, beginning to fill with tears. You tried to say something, but with your dry, damaged throat, all that came out was a breathy wheeze. 

"Don't speak. You could further injure yourself." You nodded slightly, placing your hand over his. He picked it up and brought it to his lips. You smiled, one he matched with his own. With your free hand, you gestured, asking for some water.

"They don't want you drinking too much while your throat is swollen, but I'll see if you can have some ice." He tries to stand, but you tighten your grip on his hand, distressed. 

"I'll be right back, " he bent down, gently placing a kiss on your lips, " and I'm not going anywhere."

"I…l…ve…ou, " your voice was barely there, but it was enough to make Connor's heart swell.

"I love you, too." It felt like a great weight had been lifted off his chest, watching your smile widen as you gently tugged on his tie to bring him back to your lips. He was sure he looked goofy, unable to keep himself from grinning. 

……..

Hank came by a few hours later. He found Connor lying across your lap, his lower half propped up on a chair. One of your hands was tangled in his hair, your thumb caressing his crown. Your other hand was being held by his, breaking contact only when you needed to pop an ice cube into your mouth. You were both watching the tv across from your bed, some crime show, acting as if you were both simply at home and not in a hospital room after you almost kicked the bucket. You both had your own suspects, Connor using the evidence to explain his. Hank had no idea what you were saying. You would tap on Connor's head to get his attention so he could read your lips. Based on the scrap of paper by your bed, you both had been at this for a while, one check by your name, three by Connor's and five under both. Neither of you even noticed him until he cleared is throat. You seemed happy to see him, giving him a wave and a smile.

"Hello, Hank." Connor regarded him. If he didn't know better, he never would have guessed this was the same android that was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown not even two weeks ago and who had been sitting here since, the poster-child for depression.

"Don't you fuckin' 'hi Hank' me!" Hank barked, and instinctively you shrunk down into the sheets, avoiding eye contact. Connor sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet in the chair, "you two just gonna pretend nothing happened? You've been on the verge of killin' yerself, and now yer just chillin'? And you! You treat your friends like shit, quit yer job, almost kill yerself, and now yer sitting here, watching tv like it's any other regular day at home? Fuck you!"

"I-sor-ak! I-d-n't-an-" your words were incomprehensible, and Connor tried to tell you to stop, but it wasn't until you started coughing that you ceased. Connor glared at him.

"She can't even speak right now, what good would it do to chastise her?" When your fit ended, he held the cup of ice for you, taking one and slipping it into your mouth, "Besides, I've found, from personal experience, that near death experiences carry their own lesson." 

"I'd believe that if you ever learned to listen to me, " Hank groused, hands crossed over his chest. Perhaps now was not the best time for this, but its hard not to get pissed off when the people who've you been scared shitless for are just laying about without a care in the world. 

You tapped Connor, pointing to your lips and than to Hank. Catching on, he nodded and waited for you to start.

"I'm sorry, Hank, " Connor began, relaying your message by reading your lips, "I didn't want you to worry. I figured if everyone hated me it would hurt less when I was gone."

"Bullshit. Ya should've just told Connor, you fuckin' idiot!"

You scoffed, smiling at the lieutenant.

"Yep." You leaned forward and kissed Connor before settling back into the pillows, Connor following suit, laying back on your lap and taking your hand back in his.

"There's another chair over there, " Connor gestured to the far wall, "you're welcome to join us."

Hank shook his head before scoffing himself. Everything ended alright, might as well not dwell on what could have happened. He dragged the chair to the other side of your bed, jostling your hair before sitting down. You quickly fixed it before adding Hank to the roster, smiling at the makeshift family. To think you could have lost this. You really were an idiot, but you were an idiot in love, and it feels so much better when its reciprocated.

Chapter Text

You had the surgery. If you cannot have his love, then nobody will have yours. What difference did it make, feeling no emotions to being dead? This seems to be the least painful of your options.

When you awoke, you couldn't help but notice how... Dull everything was. The world didn't seem as colorful as it did in your memories. It wasn't important. Right now, you needed to focus on healing so you could return to work. Your chest hurt, but it was a dull ache, something easily ignored.

Nobody knew you had surgery, so you had no visitors. You were discharged two days later, under the orders that you get plenty of rest. Connor had messaged you, wondering where you were at. 

"I requested time off for a personal issue that needed to be addressed. I'll be back at work next week."

......

Connor read and re-read the message. It didn't fit with your normal speech pattern. When you were happy, your words were short, typing fast in your excitement, even throwing in the occasional emoticon, which often took him a moment to decipher. This was closer to when you were angry, articulating your words to drive home your point, but even that didn't seem right. This felt so... Cold. Perhaps he was looking too much into it. Then again...

"Can I come over?" He only had to wait a few seconds before you replied.

"I would prefer it if you didn't. I'm supposed to be on bed rest."

That solidified that something was wrong, very wrong. Every time he sent you a message starting with 'can', you would send the same snarky text. Every. Time.

"I dOn'T kNoW, cAn YoU?"

It took everything in him not to jump up and drive straight to your house. Instead, he planned his approach.

"If you wouldn't mind, if it's bed rest you need, I can help. I don't have any plans."

"I suppose I have no objections."

With that, he stood, throwing on his jacket and boots. He ripped open his door, almost running over Chloe in the process.

"Hey, Connie!" She chimed, giving him a hug. He didn't particularly like that nickname, but it felt wrong to correct her after two months.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" 

"What? I can't make a surprise visit to my boyfriend's apartment?" She could not have picked a worse time. Though, can it be a surprise when she was here five to six days out of the week?

"No, you can, but I'm actually on my way out."

"Oh! Well, where are you going? I could come with you." When he didn't answer, her face fell.

"You're going to see her, aren't you?"

"I have to. I suspect there's something wrong."

"You always suspect there's something wrong with her! Are you sure it's not you?" She snapped, then sighed, dejected. "Connor, why did you agree to go out with me?"

He was quiet, considering his options. In the end, he decided on the truth.

"She asked me too." Chloe's eyes widened in shock. "She told me I needed to spend more time with other androids. To make friends and find a lover that could last as long as I will."

She looked like she wanted to punch him.

"So, I was just the first "android" that happened to ask you out?"

"Yes." 

She slapped him. Hard.

"You're an asshole!" She shouted, eyes wet with tears, "Go find some other android to waste away with!" She stormed off, back to her car and as far away from him as she could get.

He stood there for a moment, stunned. His cheek burned. He touched it and his fingers came away with a smudge of blue. Her nails had cut into his synthetic skin, leaving small scratches on his complexion. Given the context, he supposes he deserved that. No need to press charges for assaulting an officer. Remembering his original task, he locks his door and bolts off to your home.

You answer the door after hearing the three consecutive knocks, perfectly spaced between each one. You were wearing your silk, button-up pajamas, a favorite of his as the color looked nice against your complexion and he liked how the material hung off your curves. It also felt luxurious against his own skin. That, however, was not what caught his attention. Your skin was paler than usual, and he could see the wrappings peeking out from the top of your shirt. You weren't smiling or frowning, or even grimacing despite having clearly crawled out of bed to get the door, your hair a mess. It was the look in your gaze that made his thirium pump stop, falling from its rooted place in his chest.

There was nothing staring back at him.

"You're damaged. Did you know that?" Usually, you always made a huge fuss with even the smallest of injuries.

"Yes." You didn't even seem to care how or why. 

"Please, come in, " you shifted to allow him room, but he didn't move. He was still locked in on your eyes. The color was wrong, washed out to the point of almost being grey. He's seen it on only a couple different humans, but usually only after...

"I see you noticed. I assure you, there is nothing wrong with my eyesight. This is a side-effect of my recent surgery. Please, come in. Keeping the door open is going to run up my electric bill."

He stumbled in, but was terrified of you shutting the door, of being alone with you. He heard the click, knowing it was too late.

"Please take off your shoes. My Roomba is currently being replaced." He did as you asked, feeling a pang in his chest. You loved your old Roomba. It did a terrible job of cleaning, but you had it for years, doing minor repair work yourself before eventually buying a vacuum cleaner to deal with the mess yourself. You had even glued googly eyes on it and kept Captain Crunch cereal around to "feed" it. Now, to replace it so easily, it just wasn't right.

Another thing he noticed was the lack of a certain overly-affectionate feline.

"Where is your cat?"

You pointed at a window where the cat sat outside, pacing back and forth.

"I gave him to the neighbor a couple days ago. He deserves someone who can give him proper love and affection. Once he realizes I won't let him in, he'll go back to her." You said it so nonchalantly, as if it wasn't the cat you bottle-fed and saved from the streets. Watching the desperate animal, all Connor wanted to do was let it in.

"What did you do?" He asked gravely.

"To what are you referring to?" You were walking slowly to the kitchen. When you reached up to one of the cabinets for a glass, you flinched, dropping your arm immediately.

"What kind of surgery did you have?" He pulled the glass down, almost slamming it down on the counter. You didn't even react, thanking him and filling the glass with water.

"I had a deadly parasite removed."

"What kind of parasite?" You gestured to a small plant sitting on your kitchen table.

"They let me keep it. It won't grow as fast as it would inside, but I saw no reason to simply throw it away." He stared at the long, bundled white blossoms, dropping to his knees. He realized immediately that he was staring at the embodiment of your emotions. He might as well be looking at your corpse sitting on the table. 

This had to be some kind of sick joke. He looked into your face, expecting it to break that blank expression, hear you burst out in the laughter he enjoyed listening to, even at his expense. See the bright smile you always graced him with. Wrap your arms around him in guilt after seeing the look of horror on his face. 

"I hope you're not damaged. I'm restricted against heavy lifting." You stared down at him, expecting an explanation. Your eyes were so cold. He was reminded of another woman who had that icy stare. Someone else he had looked up to, only to be misled and deceived. You are the last person he wants to associate with that woman. That program.

Amanda.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispered desperately, "Whoever it was, we could have talked to them, explained the situation."

"It wouldn't have worked."

"You don't know that!" He sprung to his feet, "There had to be something we could have done! How could you give up feeling so easily?" He was angry. You knew how much he struggled with his emotions, yet he was happy to be able to experience them. He told you how glad he was to have deviated, to feel. He wouldn't wish how he was before on his worst enemy, yet, here you are, his best friend, the person he cared for more than anyone else, suffering a fate worse than death. Not that you could tell. You had become a living machine.

"The man I loved was already with another. There was nothing I could do." You went to walk around him, but before you could get by, he grabbed your upper arm. He wouldn't look at you, a rage burning in his eyes.

"Who was it?" He asked, voice low and dangerous. Any other time, you would have felt fear. The fact that you didn't react only seem to infuriate him more.

"You don't want to know. It will only cause you pain." You might not have any emotions left, but that doesn't mean you wanted to cause any unnecessary pain. He turned you, pinning you to the fridge.

"Who is it?!?" He demanded, teeth bared as you merely watched him with your soulless eyes. He won't drop it unless you told him.

"It was you." 

He backed away, all the rage replaced with shock. His legs gave out on him again, and he fell, back colliding loudly against the cabinets. He stared up at you, tears already forming in his eyes. You grabbed some paper towels and set them by his hand before walking away, back to your room, with your glass of water. 

You could hear him weeping quietly, sharp intakes of breath resonating throughout the small house. You crawled back into bed, expecting to hear the front door open and close at any moment. You did not expect to wake up an hour later when you felt the bed shift, arms wrapping around you and holding you close against a warm body.

"You should have told me, " his voice cracked.

"It's too late now, and I can't feel regret, " came your reply.

"Don't worry, " he sobbed, "I can feel it for both of us."

He spent the night at your house. The next morning, he got ready for work, finding the clothes he had left there for such a purpose, promising to stop by on his break to take care of you.

"What about Chloe? You'll upset her if she finds out where you are." He adjusted his tie. 

"We broke up yesterday." You nodded.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No... you're not." The words were just as matter of fact as you were. He smiled at you, but it was full of pain. He turned and left.

He spent every spare moment with you. He made your meals and ensured you took your medications on time. He even helped care for your new plant, though he just wanted to throw it against a wall. Every new flower that bloomed was a reminder that had it remained, it would have killed you, but without it, you were dead inside. You seemed to like the flowers, or rather, you took the health of the plant as a good thing, helping to purify the air. 

Connor only went home to grab some spare clothes. You didn't mind, the extra care aiding in your welfare. With it, you will be on schedule to return to work. You knew, however, what he was doing. He put on your old favorite movies, even a couple that you often teared up to. He asked you what you thought of them now, only to hear you tear them apart with all their inconsistencies. He played music you used to love, did things you used to like, such as slow dance. He also tried a few things that used to annoy you, like asking 'why?' over and over when you were explaining something. It was almost impressive how long you could go now that it wasn't pissing you off, but he would have preferred the anger. He would have preferred you hit him, kick him, beat on him until your fists were bloody and bruised. Any reaction was better than none at all. One night, he kissed you. When you didn't do anything, he pulled back.

"I don't think you should do that. It's dangerous." Hanahaki was not common among androids, but thanks to deviancy, it was on the rise. He bit his lip before nodding and backing away. 

He had looked so hopeless. On the last night before returning to work, you decided to confront him.

"Connor?"

"Yes?" He looked up from setting your plate, another perfectly balanced meal.

"You can't keep doing this." He looked down at the food, "not that, I mean trying to get me to feel. I can't. You're just hurting yourself." He dropped the plate in front of you, bracing himself on the counter.

"There has to be a way, " he looks into your eyes, "There has to."

"There isn't." You ate, conversing as if you were talking about the weather, "I'm sure you've looked it up. Has there ever been a documented case of someone who had the surgery going on to feel again?"

"There aren't a lot of cases of people who have had the surgery. Most prefer... The alternative. With those who have, it truly was unrequited, so they went on living their lives." If you could call it that, he thought bitterly, "there have been a few documented cases where it wasn't unrequited. Most ended in murder/suicide and two ended with the previous unrequited love falling victim to hanahaki themselves. One died and the other elected to have the surgery as well. They married each other out of convenience and still live together, but both report that they feel no emotion towards each other or anything else."

"So, what makes you think the outcome would be any different with me?" He didn't have an answer and you knew it. You placed your dirty dish in the sink. "You should forget about me and move on with your life." He wrapped his arms around you.

"I can't."

"If it will make it easier, I can leave Detroit. Captain Fowler can transfer me to another department in another city. I have no reason to stay." He only held on to you tighter. A pain started to emerge in your chest.

"Let me be your reason. I don't want you to go. I... I think I love you." The pain intensified.

"You're holding me too tightly, " he released you immediately with an apology and you went to the counter where all your medication was kept, reaching for the almost full bottle of pain relievers. You hardly needed them, as the pain was easy to ignore. You popped one into your mouth and Connor handed you a glass of water.

"All the more reason one of us should go. You're risking your well-being."

"I don't care. This is what I want. I took your love for granted, it's only fair for you to destroy mine." His hand cupped your cheek, looking down at you before pressing his lips against yours. It was desperate, and you could feel his tears as they fell onto your face. You kissed him back, and for a split second, he was hopeful, but you were following a pattern, trying to appease him. His lips trailed down your neck, hands roaming your body, careful of your still healing wound. 

He swept you off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom. You used to laugh when he did this, or tease him for being so impatient. He stripped you naked, slowly kissing and caressing every inch of your body. By now, you would have been begging him to end his torturous bliss, your core absolutely dripping, ready and waiting, just for him. Instead, you only watched, the occasional moan leaving your lips far too quick to be voluntary, your body reacting automatically to the erogenous touches. You were wet, but just barely. 

He stripped out of his own clothes, stroking his cock a few times, spreading the lubricant from tip to base. He pushed into you, hearing your small grunt, before setting a gentle speed. You were moaning a little louder, but you didn't react beyond that. You didn't hold him close, or run your hands along his back. You didn't wrap your legs around his waist in a bid to get him closer, deeper. You simply laid there and let him do what he wanted, believing it was what he needed to do.

 He buried his face into your neck, playing back the old audio from a previous session, when you would call his name with rapt passion, begging him for more.  He increased his speed, thrusting against your sweet spot. One of his hands slipped down, touching your bundle of nerves in the way you used to like it. He did all he could to please you. Your reactions were still lackluster, and he buried his face deeper against you. If he didn't look at you, he could think back to how you used to cling to him, wanting him, needing him. He could pretend you could still love him, that he had reciprocated your feelings, and you were both going to live happily together for many years.

He could feel you squeezing him from within, your soft groan signaling your end, far too quiet to be noticed over the recordings. He picked up his pace, chasing his own orgasm. When it finally hit, it was nothing compared to when you would help bring him to his end before. He spent himself within your walls, but all the pleasure that should have been there was gone almost immediately, replaced with nothing but shame and despair.

"I'm sorry." He pulled away, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, " you say, but, like everything else, it's fake. You just don't care. He had robbed you of that. With him off you, you stand up and leave him there while you wash off. Left alone, he cried.

.........................

You return to work, and it doesn't take long before everyone notices the change. You are on desk duty for three weeks while you continue to heal. Fellow detectives and officers, people you had once been so friendly to, asked where you've been, how you've been, but you merely state that you are busy, seeing the conversation as frivolous. The quick dismissal immediately caused either concern or animosity. With victim statements, you came off as cold and callous, too new to not having empathy that you didn't know how to fake it. One victim even thought you were an android, calling you a 'plastic prick'. It was deemed best that you shouldn't handle statements for now. 

Your presence unsettled the detectives, your faded eyes making them shiver. They wouldn't talk to you unless they had too, not that you noticed or cared. You did your job and then you went home. 

Connor would accompany you back, still trying to care for you. Still trying to find a way to make you feel again. Watching you react so coldly to things you used to love, to him, his plastic heart broke a little more each time. He couldn't bare the thought of giving up, of leaving you. If a machine like him can learn to feel, than someone who had emotions before could surely have them again. He has to believe that, it was all he had left.

At night, Connor would lose himself in his fantasies, taking a few moments for himself. You never denied him. Afterward, he would only feel regret, watching you leave him immediately to wash off. He wishes he didn't feel the compulsion to do this. He feels disgusted with himself every time, but, for just a few seconds, he can believe the lie, and like a drug addict, he craves those few despicable moments. This must be how you felt when he would leave after. He hadn't wanted to overstay his welcome before, yet here he is, spending every spare moment with you now that you no longer wanted him. Still using you, only now he was pitifully aware of it.

How pathetic.

On the third day, Detective Reed tried to get a reaction from you, hitting all your usual triggers, even shoving you at one point, but you didn't give him the time of day, just chastised him for wasting time rather than work on his own pending investigations. He stormed off, calling you a 'robotic bitch'.

"As much as I like seeing Gavin bein' put in his place, this is just sad," Hank commented, looking at you, tears in his eyes. He felt as if he lost a daughter and now had to watch a machine take her place. Connor looked just as distraught, gazing at you in pain.

"Why couldn't I see what was obviously there?"

"You didn't know and she wouldn't tell ya." Hank didn't mean to say it so bitterly, but it's hard not to blame Connor for this, even knowing it wasn't his fault, at least not completely. Hell, even Hank was partly to blame. He knew how you and Connor felt, but figured it would resolve itself. It was so apparent to the old lieutenant that he was sure you would have to be blind to not see it. He didn't realize how ignorant Connor was to his own damn feelings and how stupid you were being with yours.

The cough that he heard stopped all trains of thought. 

He watched as Connor continued to cough, his heart stopping when he saw the android try to hide the small, purple flower.

"Oh, Connor, no. God, no. Not you too." Connor looked up at him, his own eyes wet, wide in shock.

"I'm sorry, Hank." It was all he could think to say. He was unaware of his own affliction up until this point, but a scan was quick to pick up the foreign object that had sprouted within.

Hank was frozen, but when the shock wore off, he slammed his fists against his desk, attracting the attention of several officers. He shot up and stormed off.

"Where are you going?" Connor called, but Hank wouldn't respond, giving his answer by saying nothing at all. He was going to drink. He wouldn't say it, knowing how much Connor has fought to help with his drinking problem. He had been doing so well. Connor wanted to go after him, to try and convince him that everything will be alright, but the little hydrangea flower that resided in his hand told a different story.

He was going to die.

You finished your shift and Connor trailed after you. He knew he couldn't stop Hank. Not right now, when the news is too fresh. Of course, what could he say to console his father-figure? The surgery was not an option. He can't go back to that, to being a machine. Hank never liked him like that anyway. Instead, he will remain with you. He won't give up the hope that you might feel again, and he will look for a way until either you can love again or the plant within kills him.

You had watched Hank storm off, the loud bang breaking your concentration. He seemed really upset, Connor more so. Your chest started hurting again, which you marked as odd, taking a pain reliever. It wasn't serious, so you noted it, planning to inform the doctor of it on your follow-up appointment.

..............

"My plant is dying." You looked at the tuberose on the table. Several of the flowers had withered, and some of the leaves had developed brown spots. It didn't make sense, you had watched Connor care for it, and it had been healthy just a few days ago.

"Perhaps it can't survive long outside its host, " Connor examined it, even testing the soil, but everything seemed to be in good condition. 

You only regarded it a little longer before turning away. You are not the first to keep the parasitic flower, but when you researched how others coped with the surgery, theirs had grown quite well, some even able to build a whole garden off of the deadly blossom. You must be doing something wrong.

Connor felt another coughing fit coming on, but he suppressed it, putting a pan down loudly onto the stove to cover the sound of clearing his throat. He doesn't want you to know. If you did, you might make him leave, to try and spare him even knowing it was already too late. Or, you might try to convince him to get the surgery, it was the most logical thing to do. He would still be alive, and he could still be with you, but what is the point? You may not be capable of loving him anymore, but he could still love you, and he wasn't going to give that up.

He went about the nightly ritual, making your dinner, then making love to you. When you got up to shower, his first severe coughing fit occurred. He coughed up dozens of tiny flowers, painfully choking on the little buds. It subsided before you got out, and he collected them all and tossed them down the garbage disposal. 

This became the new normal. For two weeks, you both went to work, then came home. Food, sex, shower, flowers, bed. Connor occasionally spent time with Hank, helping him try to come to terms with what was happening. When that didn't work, he started using the time to forget his current predicament, to just enjoy the moment. Hank would at least gave him that, but Connor could see how Hank suffered when he would succumb to another fit, each one getting worse.

He always returned to your house, his own going neglected. You could see the pain Connor was in every time he returned from Hanks, and your chest was hurting more. The pills weren't working either. It was feeling like the plant was back in your chest, and you called your doctor to see if they had any openings for a closer appointment date. There was none, still a week away. 

Your flower was slowly dying, only a few blooms left. Most of the leaves were brown and dried, as if it refused to drink. You had taken over caring for it, thinking maybe because it was yours, it needed you to care for it, but it did nothing to slow its descent. 

Connor was becoming more clingy, holding you as much as possible. Then, he would make an excuse, such as getting a message from the DPD, before getting up and going outside. Sometimes he'd come back with tears in his eyes, panting slightly. There was something, the ghost of concern, that prompted you to ask if something was wrong, but he would just say it was nothing. 

His nightly sex habit had slowed, going from every night to every other night, then he went three days without it. As he was thrusting into you, face buried into your neck as usual, he froze, abs tensing a few times before quickly doubling his efforts, bringing about your orgasm and pulling out, rolling onto his other side.

"You didn't achieve release." You stated, slightly out of breath.

"It's fine, just go shower." His voice was taut, words strained. You were quiet.

"I don't want to."

 He rolled back over, face contorted into anger. "Just go! I'm done for the night!" He shoved you, trying to push you towards the door, but you only moved back to your spot.

"No." 

His eyes watered, and a sound escaped him, causing him to swallow a few times before he spoke.

"Please, " he choked out, "just leave me." You remained. You wanted to know what was going on. His hands gripped the blanket, his body constricted, convulsing as he fought against it, but it was useless. He coughed, thirium stained flowers dropping on the sheets. The coughing wasn't enough for his systems, demanding he clear his airways and thirium lines. His body preformed an emergency purge, forcing up more flowers and thirium, staining the bed in shades of blue and violet. You stared at the mess.

"I warned you..." He continued to cough and wheeze. The ache in your chest flared. It hurt so much.

"I told you to forget about me..." Your voice cracked. You couldn't breathe, the pain mounting. Connor spat out one more flower before finally looking up at you, eyes wide. You were clutching your chest, curling into yourself. Your eyes were darker, overflowing with tears. 

"What's wrong?" He gripped your shoulders, trying to look you over. His scans came up with nothing, though your heart was racing. Should he call for an ambulance? What would he tell them?

"Why wouldn't you just leave?" You choked out. 

He pulled you against him, your fingers tearing at his skin as the pain kept building, leaving you gasping for breath. 

"Because I love you. I'm sorry I didn't figure that out sooner." 

One last strangled breath and it was almost like a pop, freeing your lungs and heart immediately. You gulped down each breath, and then you did something neither of you expected.

You cried.

Every sob wracked your core, weeping loudly as you clung to Connor. He held you against him, his own tears silently rolling down his cheeks. He could only hope it was true, pulling back to see the color returned to your eyes before holding you close again. It felt like hours had passed before your tears had finally slowed. You pulled back, looking at Connor, perfect, dorky, sometimes oblivious Connor, in the eyes, the rich chocolate hues sparkling so vibrantly, no longer dulled under your indifferent gaze.

"I love you." 

It was barely above a whisper, but it crashed over him like a tidal wave. His body lurched forward, coughing and gagging. He could feel you move about the bed, going to rub at his back while the dead bulbs were expelled from his body. He was shaking by the time he was finished, laying his head onto your lap while you continued to console him. His systems worked to repair the damage the plant had caused, now that it was no longer in the way.  Connor looked up at you, a dazed smile on his lips. The flowers would only die off if you genuinely reciprocated his feelings. 

"I love you, too." His voice was a little staticky, but it was perfect. You ran your fingers through his hair, a sob escaping you, giving him a watery smile.

"You're such an idiot!" Connor slowly sat up. "You could have died!" He captured your lips, needing to touch and feel. A soft groan escaped him when he felt you kissing back. No set pattern, just losing yourself in the moment. When you moaned against him, it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard and it took everything in him to pull back, fighting the urge to dive back in when you chased after his lips.

"It was worth it." He stood from the bed, scooping you up in his arms, hearing you squeak and laugh, your arms wrapped tightly around him. Connor's man-made heart was so full, yet he felt as if he was floating. He carried you to the couch, stumbling a little.

"Are you alright?" Your hand caressed his cheek, eyes alight with concern.

"Yeah, just a little low on thirium. I'll be alright." He placed you down and draped the throw blanket over you before heading to the kitchen and grabbing a bag of thirium from the fridge. He kept you in eyesight as he drank it down, afraid this was just a dream and you might disappear. You, however, kept smiling at him from the arm of the couch, awaiting his return. He couldn't drink it down fast enough, and when it was finally gone, he just tossed it onto the counter, lying down next to you in a warm embrace. 

There was so much that should be said, but at the same time, it wasn't needed. You just held each other closer, desiring the warmth both had been denied for what felt like centuries. 

Connor was quick to move above you, shivering under the hands that held him tightly, as if he had never been touched before. His lips and tongue ravaged your mouth, devouring every moan. Reaching between tightly pressed bodies, Connor groaned when he felt just how wet you were, craving him. There was no time for teasing, as much as he enjoyed it. Another time, he tells himself, relishing in the thought that there will be another time, and many after it. He slid into your warmth, choking on a moan when he heard you cry out. Your walls fluttered around him, still sensitive. Had it really only been twenty minutes since he forced your impassive body to come? If it weren't for his internal clock, he would have guessed it was ages ago.

 Your legs wrapped around him, trying to encourage him to move, the extra pressure shot electricity up his spine. He was already beginning to feel overwhelmed, sensors maxing out so quickly. He set a fast and deep pace, listening to you scream out in your euphoria. When you cried out his name, every fiber in his body seized, hips jolting erratically against you as he filled you with his synthetic seed. It had caught him off guard, and he fought to gain control of himself, panting hard.

"S-sorry, I didn't-" you cut him off with your lips, arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him down.

"Don't be." For weeks, he would apologize every time he laid with you. He always made sure you came before him, even though you didn't care if you got off or not. In your apathy, you couldn't even be bothered to pretend to care, offering him no comfort and leaving him a little more broken each time. It was not an unfamiliar pain for you, the kind of pain that allows flowers to bloom in darkness. The kind of agony that made you rip up that flower bed, removing their beauty and leaving you with nothing but dirt. Without Connor, that bit of Earth would remain dry and barren. He did all he could to make your garden grow, even as his own was left unattended. He had done what was thought to be impossible. He brought you back to life.

You made him roll over, straddling his lap with him still deeply seated within. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you rolled your hips against him, hands roaming his skin, turning him into a moaning mess. 

"C-Connor! You feel-aah! You feel so good! You make me feel so good! I love you! I love you, Connor!" Your words were broken up by your own gasps and moans, increasing in pitch as you spurred him into action. His hands dug into your hips and thighs, trying to fight off his own impending orgasm. 

"I... I love you... Fuck... I love you so much!" Connor's own words were ground out from between clenched teeth. Dragging his hand down your hip, he brought his thumb in contact with your bundle of nerves, quickly tightening the tension in your belly until it snapped, sending you over the edge. He came almost immediately after, your body pulsing against his throbbing member. You collapsed on him, fighting to catch your breath. Arms held you in place against him, both finally feeling a sense of belonging.

..........

The sun was starting to rise when Connor pulled back, still trembling from his latest orgasm, watching as your own powerful aftershocks wrecked your body.

"Con, Love, as much... as I'd love to do this with you... until the end of time,.... I really need to get some sleep," you panted, already drifting off, feeling warm and content and oh, so full, in more ways than one. You honestly don't know how you've lasted this long.

"Surely, you could do one more?" Just a little longer, he thought, as he nuzzled against your cheek. He likes it when you call him 'Con', even more when you call him 'Love'.

"No more. Maybe later," you nuzzled back, kissing his cheek, "I'll still love you when we wake up." He pulled back and looked into your eyes.

"Promise?" He fears that if you fall asleep, you might wake up as you were before. A silly fear, as, despite how you have been behaving, you weren't a machine. You wouldn't go through a system reset. Still, as irrational as it was, he fears being thrust back into the cold. Your warm smile was quick to reassure him.

"Promise." 

He smiled, kissing your bruised lips and settling beside you, holding you close as you drifted. He waited until you were asleep before shifting into stasis himself, happy to have the woman he loves in his arms.

Bonus:

Hank didn't want to be here, but after Connor's weird text, he had to know.

"Will be late to work. Don't worry, everything's fine."

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Hank's mind instantly twisted the text to something akin to Connor's final words, propelling him to speed off to your house. Now that he was here, he hesitated. Images of what could be on the other side of this door plaguing his thoughts. Connor lying dead on the floor while you ate breakfast, or maybe a gunshot to your head and then a self-inflicted shot in Connor's. 

He could hear shouting on the other side of the front door. He pressed his ear against it.

"I'm sorry!" That was your voice. You sounded distraught, which already made no sense. 

"Please, no! Come back!" Hank's heart stopped. He burst through, not really thinking.

You were sitting on the floor, tears in your eyes. When you heard the door, you turned to the sound, wiping your eyes. Connor was sitting on the couch in front of you, a cat demanding his attention as it headbutted the android's chin.

"Do either of you know how to knock?" You scolded, shaking your head.

Hello, Hank. Did you not get my message? I tried calling, but you had your phone off again." Connor stood, forcing the cat to crawl off his lap. It regarded you for a second before turning away.

"I said I was sorry! I promise, I'll pick you up that fancy canned cat food tonight. Please, stop being mad at me!" You pleaded with the fluffy beast, but it paid you no mind.

"The fuck is goin' on?" Its as if nothing happened. Did he get so fucked up that he hallucinated you both having hanahaki disease?

"Connor killed my plant and now I can feel again." You stated, trying to stand but stumbling a bit.

"I did not purposely kill your plant. The flowers started dying when you started feeling, I just helped it along."

"So, you have emotions again?" 

"Yep."

Hank regarded you for a second before turning to Connor.

"And what about you?"

"They're gone," Connor smiled, hugging the man. Hank hugged him back. When the news started to sink in, he held a little tighter. He wasn't gonna lose another one.

You joined in, hugging the two men. After a moment, Hank pulled back, ruffling your hair. 

"You two ever pull this shit again and I'll kill ya myself!" He bellowed, and from the look he was giving you both, he meant it. "You two idiots are gonna give me a heart attack." 

"Sorry, Hank," you both chimed. While you were fixing your hair, Hank noticed something.

"What's that on yer wrist?" You looked, staring at what looked to be a scar in the shape of a tuberose.

"I think its a reminder. I have a few more on my chest. It showed up when I started feeling again. Wanna see? They're pretty cool!" You were already going for the buttons on your shirt, prompting Hank to shield his eyes.

"No dammit! The fuck is wrong with you?" You laughed. Connor trying his best to hide his own amusement at Hank's expense, but was failing terribly.

"Go get ready for work. I'm gettin' outta here," Hank turned, about ready to leave, "I'm glad you two are alright. I really am." He left before either of you could say anything. You both stared after him for a moment.

"He's getting soft in his old age," you smiled. Connor kissed the top of your head.

"Let's get your bed sheets switched before we leave." Connor suggested.

"We should just take the whole bed out and burn it." You followed him. 

Spying the mess, Connor turned you around, guiding you towards the door. 

"Perhaps you're right." It's pretty bad when even the thirium hasn't finished evaporating, and the flowers look stuck to it. He might just suggest you stay at his apartment tonight.

"Why don't you move in?" He looked at you, eyes wide.

"You've been here for almost a month. We could take your bed and bring it here... That is, if you want to." 

He pulled you close, stealing a quick kiss.

"I'd love to."

Chapter Text

He had never felt so terrified in his life. He has been in more life and death situations in his short life than most veteran officers. He fell off a roof to his death and helped free thousands of androids from the most powerful company in the world. None of that left him feeling as he did now. He was literally made for those kinds of situations, however, so why would he feel nervous as he does now? This was something so far beyond his comfort zone he was wondering why he was doing it. Then, you walk by, bright smile, eyes sparkling when they meet his, hips swaying in a way that demanded his rapt attention. He is reminded of why. He loves you, and this was all about showing just how much.

Valentine's day.

It was an odd holiday, with many variations. He studied up on it, coming across traditions and tips. He got distracted a couple of times, reading about a few homicides that happened on the same day. In the end, according to his research, there was a good chance you would not appreciate it if he didn't make a big deal of the holiday, and it could deal a blow to yours and his relationship. With the relationship being so young, not even a year yet, he cannot afford that kind of risk. He still thinks back to Christmas and cringes, hearing you shouting at him for scanning one of his gifts before he could open it. He could only imagine how much worse it would have been had he gotten to the others.

Still, that was then, and he had learned his lesson. He has studied up on the holiday and has started to construct a plan. It will be the most romantic night of your life.

..................

He was staring at the roses in the display case. Tradition dictates that a dozen red roses were the most romantic. His eyes locked on them and his body froze. He sees the trellis and the woman standing before it, tending to the blood-colored blooms. He hears her voice, condemning his every action. Disappointment.

"Sir?" A voice chimes from behind him. How long has he been standing here? "Is there something I can help you with?" The small woman smiled up at him. Her appearance reminds him of a garden gnome he had seen while walking Sumo. It only seems fitting that she should work here.

"Y-" he clears his throat, "-Yes. I'm looking to get a bouquet."

"Alright, well, let's start simple. Who's it for?"

"My girlfriend." It still felt like a foreign word from his tongue, but it made him smile nonetheless.

"I see. For Valentines?" She had an insinuating smugness about her face, "Well, roses are a fine choice,-" she saw him eye them, as if they would attack at any moment, "-however, sometimes sticking to traditions can be considered boring. Not all women like that. Instead, try focusing on what she would like."

What you like? Why didn't he think of that? Did you even like roses? Looking over memories, he noticed you commenting more on the different colors and their fragrance rather than the roses physical appearance. You liked them, but no more than any other flowers. You would choose by appearance, rather than by name. He started broadening his sights, looking at the many different blossoms the little shop housed. You like to show him things that spark your interests, so he tries thinking like you. What would you want to show him? He finds what he's looking for on a shelf. Would this be okay? 

"She has unique tastes, " the store clerk beamed, taking his choice up to the front.

"I suppose this is as far from tradition as you could possibly get, " he felt anxious about his choice. He knows you'd love it, but what does it have to do with Valentine's day?

"Then make your own tradition. If it's true love, then whatever you do will be perfect in her eyes." He smiled. This garden gnome was clearly wise beyond her years. What is the lifespan of a gnome? He was getting distracted again. 

"Thank you, Ms.-" Connor tries not to scan people off shift after Hank chastised him.

"Greta is just fine." Greta the Garden Gnome. Surely this can be no accident. "I hope your lady loves her gift."

"I'm sure she will."

............

Getting the chocolates was much easier. He knew your favorite brand and which ones to avoid. He had thought about making them himself, as tradition dictates that to be the most endearing, but his cooking skills were... Subpar. He was still adjusting to tastes and has learned he has a penchant for becoming distracted. He supposes his 'free thinking' mixed with his original program, to find out as much as possible in as little of time allowed, making it almost impossible to focus on one thing for too long.

 The little heart-shaped box only made his bizarre choice at the floral shop stand out. Maybe he shouldn't have taken the advice from a gnome to heart. It was too late now. Instead, he placed it in a small, red bag with pink tissue paper. At least this way it looked like a Valentine's present.

He walked towards your desk with his gifts in hand. When he didn't see you there, he assumed you must be running late. What he did see were several gifts stacked on top of your desk, along with a couple of bouquets and five separate boxes of chocolates. You had many... Admirers. It shouldn't bother him. He knew you were desirable to many. Yet, seeing all the blatant show of such affections, some even giving you their numbers, knowing you were already in a relationship. It rubbed him the wrong way. Still, he set his gift among the many flashier ones before heading to his own desk. 

He was shocked to find gifts addressed to him waiting for him, along with a bouquet of roses. Many of them were the same thirium-based chocolates, some of the only products made specifically for androids. He didn't particularly care for the flavor, the chocolate had a cheap, artificial taste compared to the chocolate syrup he tasted at your house.

 It was the roses that he was stuck on. He wants to remove them. Seeing them here, where he works, felt too much like they were barring down on him, waiting for him to make a mistake. He takes them and sets them on the ground, under his desk. Out of sight, out of mind. The rest of the gifts were shifted to the side.

You show up a few moments later. He was a little disappointed you did not come up to greet him, but you looked annoyed, so you might have chosen to spare him of your sour mood. You looked over your gifts, and Connor watched as you systematically dumped most of them in the trash, slamming it down before taking your seat and getting to work. That... Was not generally something people did when they received gifts. Only his gifts remained, much to his relief, though you didn't seem to pay them much mind either. A part of him was satisfied that you had ruthlessly destroyed all those people's hearts in one swift action, but he was astonished you would do something so tactless. Perhaps something happened to trigger your bad mood. He stood, hoping to help.

"Good morning, Y/n." Connor smiled down at you, standing next to your desk.

"Morning." You answered automatically, but it was brisk and clipped. You didn't even look up from your computer. Had he done something wrong?

"Are you alright?"

"Fine." He continued to stare expectantly.

"I said, I'm fine!" You snapped. 

He knows he should back off when you're like this, that he could only make it worse, but instead, he got down on his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his.

"Please, tell me what's wrong. I want to help." For a moment, he believes he had made the wrong choice, as you looked like you wanted to throttle him. Your gaze was intense, and he could see the red of his LED reflecting from your eyes. It takes a minute, but you lean forward and whisper into his ear.

"Why are you hiding the roses under your desk?" Your words were venomous, making a panic rise in him. You had seen him hide them, and he realizes that could be misinterpreted as concealing the gift so you wouldn't see it.

"I... I become distressed when I see red roses. I didn't want to look at them." He looked away, feeling foolish. What kind of person is afraid of roses? You knew of the zen garden, so you of all people would understand. "They remind me of her." You were quiet for a moment, your anger quickly melting.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" You buried your face in your hands, "God, I'm so stupid." You muttered to yourself.

"No, you're not." 

"I am! I thought, 'since you like clichés so much, you'll probably prefer the traditional gift for Valentine's Day.'" Wait a minute.

"The roses were from you?"

"Yes! Didn't you read the card?" He stood up, going to his desk and reaching under, grabbing the thin, glass vase the roses resided in. Riffling around them, he finds a card with a cartoon picture of a dog holding a heart on it. He flipped it over.

"My heart blooms only for you. Happy Valentine's Day, my Love. -❤Y/n" he could see the impression of your lips pressed into the card, making his thirium pump vibrate within his chest. Hiding your roses while he had only pushed the other gifts to the side seemed so much worse than hiding roses from a secret admirer. 

He heard a sniffling sound, seeing that you had turned back to your terminal, but your shoulders were trembling. You were trying so hard not to cry at work. Connor went back to you, pulling you from your seat and practically dragging you to the first available space, which happened to be the old records room. Before you could say anything, his lips crashed into yours, holding you tightly against him. He held your face, turning it slightly to get that perfect angle. Your hand went to the back of his neck, combing through his hair as your other one held his shirt in a death clasp, likely wrinkling the material, but he couldn't care less. He kept you locked to his ravenous lips until you were on the verge of passing out, pulling back as you gasped for air.  

"I'm sorry. I didn't know, " he murmured, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"I'm sorry, too. I saw you hide them and I made assumptions."

"You had no way of knowing. To be honest, I hadn't thought it was an issue until I was looking at them at the flower shop."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No, another time, maybe. Right now, I want to get through the workday, then take my girlfriend out on a romantic date. She might even gift me with a kiss at the end of the evening." He winked, making you smile. 

"You just might get a little more than that, if you like. Valentine's Day has many traditions for couples." At that, you dipped the hem of your jeans slightly, showing a bit of lace that had Connor captivated. His hands itched to reveal more, but you readjusted your pants, snapping out of your hold over him.

"We should probably get to work, " you spoke. He pulled you close for another kiss before grabbing the door, letting you lead the way. Instead of heading to your desk, you went to his, grabbing the roses. 

"It's fine, you can leave them-" but you chucked them into the trash in the break room.

"I'm not gonna leave them if they bother you. Besides, I have another gift for you." You went to your desk and grabbed your bag, rifling around, "I was gonna wait until after work, but here." You handed him a package, wrapping paper covered in blue and red hearts with a gold bow over the top. He opened it carefully, and inside was a hand-made knitted hat. It was grey, with a blue heart next to the cute face of a St. Bernard. On top was a pom pom with grey, white, and blue strings. He smiled.

"I hope it fits. I used your other beanie as a reference." He slipped it on, the inside lined with fleece, making the hat much warmer and softer. 

"It's perfect. Did you make it yourself?"

"Mostly. Simon helped me. I wanted to make you something, but as you can't eat solids, I thought I'd ask him for his opinion. I've never knitted anything before, but he's a pretty good teacher."

"I love it, thank you." You smiled, looking bashful before remembering the bag on your desk. You picked it up.

"Careful, " Connor warned before you could shove your hand inside. Instead, you picked the tissue out and looked inside. 

"Oh my God!" You carefully took out the small teddy bear planter. Growing inside were bear paw cacti, all bundled together with their pink little claws. "It's so adorable! Thank you!"

"I thought you might prefer this."

"I love it! What made you buy a cactus though?" Some might find that insulting for Valentines.

"A garden gnome." You gave him a look.

"A... Garden gnome?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in that brain of yours."

Chapter Text

"Connor, you know you're supposed to be in stasis for this." You looked at him expectantly.

'I know, I just... Don't want to." He was avoiding eye contact.

A couple of months ago, he had been injured, shot in the shoulder. As the emergency technician for the police force, he went to your office for repairs. An error occurred and he had awoken from stasis before you could finish repairs. Originally, he thought the reason behind stasis was because it deactivated his pain receptors and kept him immobile, but feeling your delicate fingers sliding along his wires, slipping between them and touching connectors, his body went rigid as he fought against the bombardment of pleasure, grinding his teeth to keep from moaning. When you realized he was awake, you profusely apologized and worked faster, the tingling bliss zapping through his systems, making him grip the table, the indentations of his fingers still marking the edge. He was so close when you withdrew your fingers, and he couldn't help but let out a whimper. Embarrassed, he said nothing on the matter.

Now, he feels more confident. Now, you were his lover, seeking each other's attention above all others. You brought about emotions he had never experienced before; affection, adoration, love... lust. Just watching you walk by was enough to stir his insides, hips swaying, the sight bounce with each step bringing his eyes to your breasts, your jeans straining to cover your plush ass. He's not sure when the dynamic changed, though he suspects it's always been there. Hank would often chastise him for his lingering gaze, though when others leered at you, a sense of outrage overtook him, made worse when they had the audacity to approach you. They soon learned, however, that you only had eyes for him, a position he took great pride in. You claimed him, with your words, your lips, and your body. He learned the joys of physical pleasure from you, and he, in turn, brought you to heights you never thought possible. 

Feeling more confident did not mean he wasn't anxious. That is why he waited for an opportunity, or rather, a poorly timed lunge resulting in a knife wound in his lower right side. Nothing major was hit, though some wires will need to be replaced. With his pain receptors off, it felt strange, almost like a buzzing under his skin. He should have gone to Cleon, the tech on duty at the time of the accident, but he convinced Hank that it was minor and it could wait until he got home. Thankfully, the lieutenant was still inept in his knowledge of androids, so he had to trust Connor's word.

 Now, after you scolded him for being reckless, you laid him down in bed, stripped to his black boxer briefs, a couple of towels underneath to prevent thirium from soaking into the sheets. Your toolbag at your feet, you sat next to him, wearing your specialized gloves and a night slip that left very little to the imagination, fueling his burning urges. When you bent forward to get a better look, he could see down your slip. You weren't wearing a bra. If you leaned forward just a little more...

A snap of your fingers brought him out of his trance.

"Connor! I don't want to hurt you like last time! Go to sleep!" You crossed your arms, waiting, the action pushing your soft mounds together, bringing his eyes briefly back down, hands tingling to touch.

"It didn't hurt." He finally said it. The truth was out. What would you think? This was not a normal kink, at least not for a human. Would you indulge or deny his desire? He couldn't look in your face, afraid of your judgemental gaze. Instead, you answered by sticking your fingers in the wound, expertly grabbing a wire between two of them and stroking along it, eliciting a heady moan from the android before you swiftly withdrew them. He unintentionally whined his disappointment. 

"Love, look at me, " slowly, he brought his gaze back to you, pupils already dilated, pleading for you to continue, lips parted to aid in cooling his systems. A single touch and he had become putty in your hands. "I want you to tell me something." Your fingers teased the skin along his injury, something that should not be as pleasurable as it was.

"A-haah... Anything, " he huffed. 

"Did you injure yourself just so I would have to touch your wires?" You said it so sweetly, but your eyes held a dangerous edge to it. If he gave you the wrong answer, he guarantees that his bliss would be over before it really started.

"No, I miscalculated. I promise." With that, you withdrew your hands, making him believe he had answered incorrectly. Did you want him to do it on purpose? You hated when he was reckless, even more so when it's intentional. Those thoughts died when you climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs, your slip riding up and giving him a clear view of your panties. Your needed tools now sitting next to him.

"Open up, " you purred and he didn't hesitate, opening his chassis and revealing his inner workings to you. "Keep still for a few minutes and then we can have our fun," Easier said than done. His hands gripped the bedsheets as your deft hands worked quickly to replace damaged thirium lines. His hips would jolt every time you disconnected or reconnected a wire. It felt so good, yet it was almost like it was missing an element in play. You had all the damaged wires removed in no time, his repair system kicking in to close the wound.

"Good boy. Now, for the fun part, " he practically vibrated in excitement. You produced a jar of blue liquid, applying it to your gloved fingers. A scan informed him it was a kind of conductive lubrication. When your oiled hands made contact again, he cried out, back arching and toes curling. You stroked along the new wires, coating them, then moving further south. You knew his body as well as he did, knew what went where, so it shouldn't have surprised him when you took hold of a particularly thick wire and gave it a slow squeeze.

"Fuck!" He shouted, your sinful laugh dripping down on him. You scooted up, the thin material of your panties making contact with the large bulge in his boxer briefs. He could feel how wet you were. 

As you stroked up the wire, your hold still firm against it, his hips jumped, hearing you moan at the rough contact. Every exhale left his lips as either a moan, a curse, your name, or some combination of all three. His entire body was electrified under your touch. You withdrew your hand again, but before he could complain, you added more lube and slipped back in, disconnecting the large wire and fingering the connection. He clasped your hips, bouncing you against him as he sought out your heat. If he thought he could get his hands to function properly, he'd remove the clothed barriers and sink inside you, feel your walls squeeze him so tightly. 

 Just as warnings began to flare, you reconnected it, moving onto another. Your grip was becoming shakier, but even the trembling against his inner-workings was enough to send him into a frenzy, grinding you against himself to relieve the ache below. You were slipping your fingers through a bundle of wires, getting so close to something.

"You like how this feels, sweetheart?" You cooed, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, nibbling at his lobe. His grip tightened, sure to leave marks but unable to control himself.

"Y-yes, " he choked out, "please, just a little-" all thoughts were erased as your fingers curled around the thin wire at the center of the bundle. Searing hot euphoria raced through his being, momentarily blinding him, back arching sharply. His lips formed your name, but he couldn't hear what he said over the desperate thrums of his thirium pump. You gave him no reprieve, your thumb stroking the wire, his body convulsing as wave after wave of bliss washed over him. He took hold of your wrist, grunting as you slipped out from between his wires. With your hand out, he sighed his relief, taking time to enjoy the afterglow.

"I hope you don't intend to give me a show like that and leave me hanging, " you spoke through his haze, grinding down on his softening member. He looked down, seeing that you were not the only cause of the wetness against your panties anymore. He had never... So much... 

He closed his chassis before pulling you down, rolling over so you were beneath him. His lips crashed against yours, wasting no time in delving his tongue inside, dancing against yours. 

"My apologies. Allow me to repay you for your services."

Chapter Text

He thought he was doing everything right. He scoured through hours of research, read books, watched movies, even gathered knowledge by observation. things seemed to be going so smoothly.

"Don't EVER do that again!"

Your words still rang in his mind, stuck on repeat. He just wanted to show his affections. After two months, he thought it would be perfectly normal, almost chaste with what he has noticed among other couples and media, to desire physical affection. 

he just wanted a hug.

you were standing in front of the coffee machine in the break room, watching as it fills your coffee mug. You had been putting in a lot of hours lately, sent on call after call, only to come back to a large stack of paperwork. With his own duties, he could not offer assistance, though he tried to ensure you, at the very least, ate something, even if it wasn't particularly healthy. You were stressed and you were tired. Perhaps, that had been his mistake. He wanted to offer you comfort, and studies show hugs can lower stress levels. 

He had come up behind you, offering a morning greeting and getting a mumbled 'morning' in return. Just as you were about to grab your mug, his hands slid against your sides. The strange sound you made, coupled with the way you tried to jump away, caused him to pull back. You swiftly turned, looking around the room wildly before turning on him. Your threatening words had caught him off guard, and he stood watching you storm away with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth. Your cheeks had been flushed a bright red. Were you embarrassed? Was being embraced embarrassing for you? 

Or was it him? 

The thought that you might be uncomfortable because he, an android, tried to touch you made his artificial heart stop, falling from its place in his chest and sinking into a dark abyss. Looking over his memories, he realized that you had not actively sought out his touch on previous dates. He had always initiated it, taking hold of your hand when walking or a quick embrace at the end of the evening. Even with those, you had been quick to pull back. Why would you agree to date him if you had an aversion to his touch? Were you simply being too polite? 

Depression threatened to crush him under its oppressive weight, but he couldn't give in. He can't believe it. You cared for him, you said so yourself. There must be something that he's missing. 

In your mad dash, you had left your coffee, still sitting under the coffee maker. He made it, just how you like it, taking it and wordlessly dropping it off on your desk. You quietly thanked him, cheeks still tinted red. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Connor tried hard to focus on his work, but he kept thinking back to you. He tried to figure out if he missed some human cue, something to explain your actions. Every time his mind played the audio of your voice, so enraged by his actions, he sank a little deeper into despair. He moped about the DPD, doing small favors in hopes you might smile at him. Give him some reassurance that he hadn't inadvertently destroyed his chance to be with you. It wasn't until the end of his shift that you messaged him.

"Would you like to come over to my place tonight?"

He agreed with no hesitation. He sat at his desk, ruminating on his thoughts for the next hour until you were done with your work, then he followed you out. 

In your car, he wanted to strike up a conversation, anything to fill the silence hanging heavily over the two of you, but your answers were quick and precise, blocking his every attempt. Maybe you were thinking of the best way to break things off, not wanting to hurt his feelings. His chest ached, and all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and stay there indefinitely.

At your apartment, you kept fiddling around, doing anything and everything to avoid the android standing at your door. He couldn't take it anymore. He just wants things to go back to the way they were.

"I'm sorry," he said, "Whatever I did to upset you, I didn't mean anything by it." You turned to him, seeing his pained expression. Your face scrunched up, as if you were fighting back tears.

"No, no, it wasn't you. You didn't do anything wrong," you sighed, sitting down on the couch, gesturing for him to join you. He complied. You didn't speak right away, trying to gather your thoughts. He waited patiently, hoping to get an explanation and not a dismissal.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I know you didn't mean anything by it. It's just-" you huffed out a breath, "-growing up, I didn't receive much attention from my parents. My father was AWOL and my mother worked all the time. When she was around, she viewed affection as weakness. I was brought up believing that." 

Connor's eyes widened. To think that you had been denied such a basic human need for so long. He hasn't known emotions for long, but in the same aspect, he wasn't that old either. In that time, he probably had more physical reassurance than you had in your entire existence. It should be a sin. He realized you were not finished.

"In high school, a friend had tried to give me a hug, but when she touched my sides, I didn't anticipate it and I... squeaked. Our little group all heard it and assumed it was because I was ticklish. After that day, they would poke or squeeze my sides any chance they got and I guess some of the sounds I made were a little... provocative. I didn't want the attention, so I started distancing myself from them. Eventually, I just kept to myself. 

"It took a long time to change my way of thinking, that showing affection was okay as long as it's wanted, but you are the first person to get this close. I guess when you touched my sides, old scars resurfaced."  He fought against the urge to apologize, knowing you didn't blame him. How could he possibly know that? Still, for you to go so long without any physical affection, and then for your first experience to be so traumatic, he can understand why you were so quick to anger back at the station. You feared it happening again. 

"My systems indicate that your symptoms are consistent with being "touch-starved". The best treatment is to be consensually touched on a regular basis, starting out slow and gradually working up to more sustained holds. If you wouldn't mind, I can offer my assistance."

You smiled softly at him, giving him a nod. 

"Okay."

Slowly, he brought his hand to yours, feeling the slight flinch before you relaxed. His hand traveled up, resting on your forearm, stroking the soft skin with his thumb.

"Is this okay?" He wants you to be comfortable with everything he does. Your eyes were closed when you nodded. 

The gentle touch felt like too much, yet not enough. You wanted him to touch you, to hold you. You wanted what others had all their lives, to be comforted by touch, rather than be scared by it. His hand didn't move, and you realized he wanted to move slow to avoid over-stimulating you. But, you wanted him to move faster. You craved the touch, needing so much after being supplied so little. You had never trusted anyone so much, but you knew Connor would never do anything to intentionally make you uncomfortable. You can only hope he would not mind if you smothered him under your needs. 

Connor was happy that you trusted him so much, and he would not take advantage of it. He kept his touch chaste and ensured you were comfortable in your environment before he would do so. He felt a little guilty, but the small sounds that you made were heavenly. He broadened his explorations of your skin, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, whispering reassurances as you began to snuggle against him. It was a week later, sitting back on your couch, that you decided to speed things up a little.

"Could... Could you turn to rest against the arm of the couch, please?" You asked hesitantly. He looked confused, but complied, legs resting on the seat. You reached out, gradually pushing one of his knees to rest against the back of the couch while the other leg was nudged to the floor. You sat between them, nervously lying down against him, body tensing against the warmth before slowly relaxing into it. Connor was secretly relishing in the feeling of your weight on him, but he kept his hands to himself as you got comfortable. You laid on your side, one of your hands at his shoulder. 

"Are you okay with this?" You asked.

"Yes, " he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your crown, "absolutely."

You pushed against him, listening to his mechanical heart, enjoying its steady beats. You had never felt such a level of comfort, as if this was where you were supposed to be. Unbeknownst to you, Connor felt the same.

He made a bold move, taking a hand and gently setting it on your waist. You jolted, squeezing his shoulder as you made that strange sound again, a mix between a squeak and a moan. Still, you didn't remove his hand, nor did you ask him to move it. You started to relax into it, loosening your grip, even allowing your fingers to begin roaming. He had to bite his lip when they slipped under the collar of his shirt. Your soft touch felt so nice. 

Seeing his reaction, you immediately pulled back, but he caught your hand, kissing your palm, over and over. He could feel you shiver, watching as he licked up to the tip of your finger. He wasn't sure what made him do this, but he liked how you watched his every move, waiting for what might come next. However, he wanted you to decide the next step, so he released your hand. You put it back on his neck, pulling yourself up and turning to lie on your stomach. His hands returned to your sides, adding gentle pressure, making direct contact with your skin as your shirt rode up. Your eyes kept glancing down at his lips, creeping closer and closer. Anticipation built up to the point where he felt he might combust, artificial breathing picking up. When you finally made contact, it was his turn to make a strange noise, softly moaning against your lips. 

When the two of you kissed before, it was always so brief, and he was always the one to initiate it, wanting to put his studies into action. The first time, it was like a jolt to his systems, and every kiss after made him desire more, but you always pulled back and smiled before finding an excuse to leave. It made him doubt his research. This, however, made him forget about it altogether, losing himself in the touch. The way you kept moving against him, and those needy sounds you were making, it was all so captivating. A touch of his tongue to your bottom lip was all it took for you to open for him, allowing him to explore your mouth, sliding against your tongue. You pulled back, gasping for breath. In his haze, he had forgotten about your very basic human need. His body begged for more, wanting to feel everything, a tingling beneath his skin. When you went to kiss him again, he turned his head.

"I'm concerned, " he whispered.

"For what?" Even your hushed voice was enough to send him into overdrive.

"If we continue, I may not be able to stop, " his dark eyes met yours, a fear residing within them. He doesn't want to do anything that could hurt you. He felt an ache, a need that wanted to be quenched. It wasn't something he didn't know about, but being what he is, he didn't expect it to be so strong. Malfunctioning programming and system errors were becoming common in deviancy, but rarely did a program activate on its own and refuse to deactivate. 

Connor's hands had moved in the heat of the moment, one resting under your arm, the other on your hip, pressing you tightly against him. You could feel a hardness, pressing against your thigh. When your eyes widened in shock, Connor looked away. You cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. Your heated stare kept him locked in place. You leaned forward whispering into his ear.

"Then, don't stop."

His body shook, holding you tighter, the strong hold making you moan. The sound vibrated through his being, and before he realized it, he had you flipped, pinning you against the couch.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" You smiled. Everything Connor ever did was for you. In his arms, you are safe. 

"Yes. I want you, Connor." 

That was all it took to break down his restraint. He lifted you up, carrying you to your room and lying you down. His lips were on you again, kissing along your jaw, behind your ear and trailing down your neck. Your hand raked through his hair, his moans intermingling with yours. Your other hand tugged at his shirt. You wanted it off.

He got the signal, pulling himself away and making quick work of the buttons, tossing the shirt to the side. You drank in the sight, hands running along his synthetic muscles. When your hand made contact with the center of his sternum, he flinched. You knew what resided there, just under fabricated skin. He didn't flinch again when you returned your hand to that spot, gently stroking it before returning to your exploration. 

While you were distracted, he slowly worked his hands under your shirt, starting with the hem at your hips before gliding them upward. He could feel you quiver at his actions. Just as he reached the bottom of your ribs, you took hold of his wrists. He quickly withdrew them, watching you sit up and take off your shirt, unsnapping your bra and taking it off before your nerves could set in. You had never been so exposed, though you suppose, neither has Connor. It felt amazing to be able to bare yourself, body and soul, to someone. To trust someone without any worries or doubts.  

Connor wasn't sure where to start, it all looked so soft and inviting. Fingers danced along your skin, making you quake under his gentle touches. When his palm ghosted over one of your nipples, you released a moan. He focused on it, intoxicated by the sounds you made and the way you gazed at him, like there wasn't an outside world, just you and him in nirvana. He likes that thought. 

Curiosity made him lean forward, taking one of your nips into his mouth, feeling it perk up as his tongue played with it. 

"Connor!" You moaned, arching into him. A leg went over his hip, trying to pull him closer. Switching to your other breast, he brought himself to rest against you, groaning at the contact against his throbbing member. His need flared again, and a warning started to flash in his vision. He was overheating. It spurred him to move faster, a hand slipping to your jeans, skillfully unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper. In no time at all, he pulled off your pants, your panties pulled down with them. He couldn't help but stare, your sex already so wet for him. Embarrassed, you tried to close your legs, but he took hold of your knees and pushed them back apart.

"So beautiful, " he murmured in awe. His curious fingers slipped between your folds, amazed by the way you threw your head back,  moaning his name louder than before. It sounds so much better from your lips. His touch was everywhere at once, every caress causing you to make more of those beautiful sounds, your face contorting into what could only be described as pure bliss. 

It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside, feeling your tight walls. He can't help but wonder how he will fit. You squirmed under the strange feeling. He slowly worked it in and out, letting you get accustomed before he added another, tenderly working you open. Adding a third finger, he touched a spot inside that left you breathless. You held him still, wanting more.

"Please, Connor." He couldn't deny you, undoing his own pants and swiftly taking them off, followed by his boxer briefs. You couldn't help but steal a glance at his length. He was big, making your nerves falter. In the dim light, you noticed that the tip was blue in color, leaking a steady opaque fluid. 

"I can hide it if you prefer, " he spoke above you and you realized you had been staring too long.

"Hide what?"

"The color. I just have to adjust the thickness of the skin." He can make it wider? You weren't sure you could fit him to begin with! "Your heart rate increased, so I assumed the odd color was distressing for you." You realized he was worried you didn't find him human enough.

"Connor, I don't care about that. I love you for you. Never feel that you have to disguise yourself for me."

"Love?"

Shit. It just slipped out. You knew you loved him, but that didn't mean you meant to say it! Too late to go back now.

"Yes, Connor. I love you. Is that okay?" Just as you finished speaking, he was on you again, body pressed tightly against yours as he kissed you passionately.

"Yes, " he moaned against your lips, "I've... I've never felt... Anything like this. I think... I think I love you too." His words were broken up between each kiss, unable to stop. You felt so light, needing him to hold you down,  grasping onto him desperately. He had no issues with it, happy to hold you forever. Tears escaped your eyes with your elation. This man, this perfect mechanical man, loved you. Anything after this point is just icing on the cake. 

Taking himself in hand, he stroked his length, groaning as he spread the lubricant, ensuring he was properly coated for your comfort, before lining it up with your entrance. You tensed at the contact, taking a breath to calm yourself. He pushed inside, just the tip, feeling you squeeze around the intrusion. It felt so good, unlike anything he has ever known before. He fought against himself to push deeper before you were ready. When he felt you relax again, he moved forward, sinking in slowly until his hips met yours.

"Fuck, " he ground out. "You're... So tight..." He rested between your breasts, kissing the skin to distract from the stimulation and the desire for more. He waited until you were ready, nodding your head. Testing the waters, he pulled out slightly, only an inch or two, before pressing back in. It felt incredible, and from the way you moaned into his ear, you enjoyed it as well. He started off slow and gentle, but he wasn't sure how long his careful control will last.

You couldn't contain the sounds that left you. Every time you called his name, he would speed up, setting a steady pace. Your fingers clawed at his back, leaving marks that will be gone before the morning. You wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him deeper. The slight change of angle caused him to find your weak spot again, making you cry out. With the precise movements only an android is allowed, he hit that spot, over and over. You could feel a knot forming, getting tighter with each thrust. Connor started kissing your neck again, and you could feel him latch on to your sweet spot, marking your skin. He wanted everyone to know who he loves, who you love. His hand went to your clit, stroking it to match his pace. 

"Connor!" You screamed, the tension snapping. Connor slowed down, drawing out your orgasm. You had never come so hard, squeezing him from within. He groaned at the feeling. When you came down, he picked up his pace, chasing his own end. 

"Connor, ahh... You feel s-so good... I, hah, I love you... Come for me, Connor, come for me!" You moaned, hand pulling at his hair and tearing at his back, the sensations coming across as pleasurable. Your words were all he needed to send him to his own end, thrusting deep as he filled you with his synthetic seed, each spasm making you take more of him. Connor rested against you, feeling your fingers run through his hair. When he went to move so you wouldn't suffer under his weight any longer, you held him in place.

"I like how you feel. It's comforting." He looked up to you, seeing your content smile and sparkling eyes. At that moment, he realized he wanted to see that look every day, every moment of his existence. 

"I love you, " he spoke, in amazement, and when he heard you murmur them back as you started to drift off, he knew that he would fight with everything he has to keep you in his arms, in this place you both belonged.

Chapter Text

You weren't even awake when Sixty noticed your body was warmer than usual. Sitting up, he carefully nudged Connor, trying not to wake you.

'Connor, I think somethings wrong with Y/n. She's warmer than usual.'

Connor tried not to rouse you, but with your arm and leg over him, he couldn't help but jostle you slightly in his bid to get a better look at you. You started to curl into yourself, a sad whine leaving your throat. His scans showed your temperature was higher than it should be, and your cheeks were flushed. 

"Heart, Are you alright?" Connor murmured against your ear, earning another pitiful whine. You didn't answer. Instead, you clambered out from between your two lovers, your steps unsteady as you made your way to the bathroom. 

Connor and Sixty looked to each other before both climbed out of bed. They moved to stand outside the bathroom door, but neither knew how to proceed. 

"Y/n?" Sixty called hesitantly. Only a moment later, they could hear you getting violently sick. "Y/n!" Sixty tried the door handle, but it was locked. You never lock the door. "Y/n, open the door!" Your only reply was more of that horrendous retching. Just as Connor moved to break open the door, the two could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, along with the sound of you sniffling. 

The door opened, and you looked positively miserable. Your face was completely flushed, with tears streaking down your cheeks. You kept gulping, fighting off another round of vomiting. Your eyes were glazed, as if you were out of it. 

"I don't feel good." Your voice was so small, almost childlike.

Connor pulled you close, and you practically fell against him. Your temperature had spiked during your episode, sitting too high for comfort. He stood there, holding you, unsure what to do.

"Have you ever dealt with her being sick before?" Sixty asked. During his time in the trios unconventional relationship, you had never fallen ill before. With Sixty's damaged systems, you and Connor had helped him more times than he was comfortable with, but he has never known you to be sick. Apparently, neither has Connor, shaking his head.

"I've only known her to be sick once before, when she called out from work for a few days. She kept assuring me that she was fine, but she wanted to be left alone, so I didn't help." Even though he really wanted to. He wasn't even in a romantic relationship with you at the time, but all his thoughts were on you, worrying about your welfare. Hank could hardly get his attention for five minutes during those three days, both at work and at home. It wasn't until you returned to the office on the fourth day, a little pale but otherwise alright, that he could relax.

Now he stood, in the middle of the night, more bracing you up than holding you, without a single idea of what to do. 

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Sixty leaned forward, speaking softly to you. After a moment, you hummed a negative. Your head was swimming and you were certain that this was only the first round of bathroom trips, with many to come. By the time you get comfortable in bed, you would just have to jump up again.

"How about the couch?" Connor suggested. It was closer, and if you couldn't make it, there was a trash bin tucked in one of the cabinets against the arms. You hummed again, though he wasn't certain if it was actually a positive. Since it was different from the first hum, he assumed so, leading you to the couch. You kept tripping over your own feet, and all he wanted at that moment was to carry you, but the jostling might agitate your stomach. He finally was able to sit you down, but right then, you jumped back up, heading to the bathroom and shutting the door quickly.

"I believe she might have gastroenteritis, or rather, the stomach flu." Sixty moved towards his predecessor, showing a webpage on his palm. It matched your symptoms. He could do a blood analysis to be sure, but it seemed extreme to prick your finger when you already felt so terrible. It made sense. Many people at the department were coming down with it. It was making Hank even less sociable than he already is.

"What are the treatment plans?" Sixty scrolled down.

"Keep her hydrated is the most important. It says to use something with electrolytes to replenish the salts she's losing as well. Over the counter medications can be effective with her fever and some of her symptoms if she can keep them down. Light, easy to digest meals. Cold compresses to lower her temperature. Keep sounds, smells, and lights to a minimum to avoid agitating her symptoms. If she doesn't improve, we might have to take her to the hospital." Connor made a shopping list and mapped out the fastest route to a store that would have all he needs and be open at 3:47 am. 

"Alright, I'll go get supplies. Do you think you'll be alright?" Connor asked.

"Yes, I think I can handle it." Connor smiled, giving Sixty a quick peck on the lips, promising to be back as quickly as possible.

With Connor gone, Sixty sat outside of the bathroom, listening to the horrible sounds you were making, each one made him consider breaking the door down. Why did you keep locking it? The toilet would flush a few moments later. He can hear you crying, tearing him apart. He hates that he can't help, that you won't let him help. 

After a while, it occurred to him that you had stopped making those sounds, and the toilet hadn't flushed.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" He knew it was a dumb question, of course you weren't.

"Sixty?" You never stopped amazing him when you were able to tell the difference between him and Connor. Their voice was almost the same, but you claimed Sixty's had a different inflection to it. It must be true, as the only time you got their names backwards is when you're rambling, and when you realize it, you were quick to correct it.

"Yes?"

"Could... Could you... grab me a new shirt?" You sounded ashamed, meek compared to your usual upbeat voice. He rushed to grab you a clean, comfortable shirt. Returning to the bathroom, he was pleased to find it unlocked. When he opened the door, you were sitting on the floor by the toilet, resting against it. Your pajama top was missing, tossed to the side, a mess on the front of it. He gave you the shirt, but it wasn't long until he understood that you would be unable to put it on yourself. You just felt too weak. He carefully helped you put it on.

"Usually, I'm taking your clothes off. It's nice to switch it up." He joked, earning a small laugh and a wry smile. "Do you want to try laying down again?"

"Not yet, " you whimpered, returning to laying across the toilet seat. Sixty rubbed your back in a soothing motion. Noticing your hair, he grabbed a hair tie from the sink and loosely tied it back.

"Thanks."

"Of course."

"Where's Con?" You made a strange sound, scrunching your face up in revulsion.

"He went to buy medicine and supplies. He'll be back soon." You hummed, though it turned into a whine when you felt your stomach churn again.

"You don't need to stay," You mumbled, "I'm pretty gross right now."

It hit Sixty. That's why you've been locking the door. You're self-conscious about your illness.

"You're not gross, you're sick. You're still perfect to me." 

"You might think otherwise in about five seconds."

"Not likely. I can't think of anything you could do that would make me, or Connor for that matter, think otherwise." In that moment, you lurched forward, expelling your stomach contents into the toilet. It was even more violent than it sounded, your torso rigid, knuckles white from how hard you were gripping the seat. You coughed and gagged, trying to catch your breath. He had experienced system purges himself, finding them to be extremely unpleasant, but this looked downright painful. He continued to rub your back, wishing for Connor to hurry home.

......

Meanwhile, Connor was standing in front of the medical supplies, completely lost. There were so many different variations of medications, each seeming to treat a wide variety of symptoms. They came in capsules, tablets, liquids... Which one was best? He hasn't been this confused since you sent him to buy pads for the first time. He picked up two different medicines, reading what they alleviated. In his rush to leave the house, he didn't really pay close attention to your specific ailment. You weren't coughing when he left, but you just woke up, so it might have manifested in his absence. Sixty might know.

.......

'Sixty, is Y/n congested?'

At home, Sixty was draping a blanket over your form, still in the bathroom. Despite your fever, you were shivering uncontrollably. Sixty considered the question. You sounded congested, but he wasn't certain if it was from the flu or you crying.

"Y/n, can you describe your symptoms?"

You spat, flushing the toilet, absolutely disgusted with yourself. 

"Other... Than the... Obvious... My head hurts... Stomach hurts... Everything hurts... I just... I don't know... I just feel like shit, " you huffed out. You rested your burning forehead against the seat, the cool plastic felt nice, but in no time at all, it was warm and uncomfortable.

'She says everything hurts and she has a headache. Please hurry.' Seeing you so miserable when he could do so little to help made him feel awful. 

"Are... Are you messaging Connor? Ahh-Ask him if... If he could pick up crackers and ginger ale." 

'She wants crackers and ginger ale.'

'Got it.'

......

Connor grabbed a couple of different ones, deciding that they will figure it out when he gets home. Pulling up the webpage, he made a list of what else he would need. Broth, sports drink, cold compress, heating pad; along with your requested items. He swiftly checked out and headed home.

.......

"Are you ready?" Sixty draped your arm over his shoulder.

"Yeah, slowly." Carefully, he hauled you to your feet. He would have rather carried you, but you worried the motion would upset your stomach again. Gradually, he walked you to the couch. He had set up several pillows and another blanket for you, leaving the other one on the bathroom counter for later, pulling it over you as you laid down.

"Do you want anything?"

"Water please." Sixty nodded, moving quickly. He handed you the glass. You thanked him, taking a small sip, the cool water felt good on your sore throat. You held the glass against your forehead. It gave Sixty an idea. He took the glass from you, setting it on a nearby table.

"Would you sit up for a moment?" You complied and he sat behind you, gently pulling you to lie down with him. He lowered his hand's temperature, placing it on your head.

"That feels nice." You sighed, practically melting against him. He smiled, happy to have found some way to ease your suffering, if only a little. "Can you put on a movie? One we've seen a dozen times. I need a distraction."

"Sure." He connected to the tv, turning it on and going to your playlist. 

.......

You were dozing off by the time the sound of the front door opened. You opened your eyes, seeing Connor carrying several bags. He set the bags on the coffee table, crouching down in front of you."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Next question." You gave him a crooked smile. He leaned forward, shifting Sixty's hand for a second and pressing his lips to your forehead.

"Your fever is still far too high, " he riffled through the bags, "because you can't stomach solids, I grabbed this one. It should absorb into your system faster." He produced a bottle of purple cold and flu medicine.

"No."

Your answer baffled both androids. 

"What?" They blurted simultaneously. 

"I am not drinking that."

"Why not?" Connor regarded the bottle, "You like grapes." 

"Try it."

He glanced up at you to see if you were serious. Surely it can't be so bad that you would rather suffer through your symptoms. Apparently, you thought so, as you weren't joking. He opened the bottle and brought it to his nose, taking a whiff. It was quite... Strong. He poured a small amount into the pre-measured cup and put it in his mouth. Instant regret set in. Has the person who created this abomination ever even tasted a grape? He wasn't even sure it would be good for his systems if he swallowed it. You couldn't help but laugh at the faces he was making.

Sixty's curiosity got the better of him. He reached down and took the bottle from Connor, opening it. The older RK choked down his mouthful.

"Don't."

He almost heeded him too, but the fault in deviant detective androids is their burning curiosity. It barely touched his tongue before he spits it back out into the bottle.

"Oh, rA9, toss it. That's horrible." Sixty handed Connor back the bottle as if it were poisonous. Connor got up and chucked it in the bin, returning to his spot on the floor.

"Stop making... Making me laugh! It hurts!" You giggled. Their reaction was worth the pain. You wished you had recorded it, you doubt that they'd give you their memory file.

"Well, I also grabbed liquid capsules. Hopefully, they'll dissolve quickly." He went through the bags again and pulled out the small box, popping two pills out, and a can of ginger ale. You took them both, sipping on the drink and handing it back, which he put next to your water. You sank back down against Sixty.

"You two are the best." They both swelled with pride at your grumbled words. 

Connor stood up, taking another purchase out of the bag and plugging it into a nearby outlet. Ensuring it was at the proper setting, he laid it out over your stomach. The gentle heat from the pad helped ease the ache. Thanks to Sixty, the cold compress wasn't necessary. It was quite a brilliant idea. The older android still put the compress into the freezer, just in case, then joined you and Sixty on the couch, lifting your legs so he could settle under them and the blanket. He kept one hand on your leg, gently rubbing it, or tracing shapes into the skin. His other hand stretched out over the back of the couch, intertwining with the fingers of Sixty's free hand.

They kept vigil over your resting form, ready to assist you the second you ask. Unfortunately, you were only able to doze off for about twenty minutes, though it felt like seconds, before you sprung up.

"Don't follow me." Was all you got out before you dashed to the bathroom. Against their wishes, they obeyed, counting the minutes that passed by. After fourteen, you slowly crept back.

"Are you-" Sixty started.

"I don't wanna talk about it, " was your quick reply. Some things are better left unsaid.

"I got this, though if it's like the other, let me know." Connor grabbed a bottle with pink liquid in it. You took it, considering your options. Eventually, you set it next to your drinks, taking another small sip of the ginger ale before lying back down.

"It's not bad, but it's not good either. I might try it later. Right now, my stomach doesn't know what it's doing and I'd rather have as little as possible in it." 

"I'm sorry you feel so terrible, " Connor softy spoke. He couldn't help but think that he could have prevented this. As of late, you had been dealing with a lot of work stress, weakening your immune system. Had he calculated that, along with the fact that the flu had been making its rounds among the other human detectives, he could have altered your meal plan, perhaps started you on vitamins, ensured you only ate what him and Sixty prepared for you, and checked that you were washing your hands after touching anything, maybe then-

"Connor, " you narrowed your eyes at the older RK800. You knew that look, the remorseful sorrow sitting just under the surface of the contemplating android. "It was bound to happen. Humans get sick, and I had been overdue. I might feel like I'm dying, but I know I'm not. It will pass. I'm just happy I can't get the two of you sick." You would have felt even more guilty that they were waiting on your every request if they were also risking their health to do so. Not to mention, when you're ill, you can't help but want to be held and cared for. Misery loves company, you suppose.

Connor smiled and nodded. He still feels it was preventable, but there's no use dwelling on the past. All he can do now is help to care for you.

The sun was starting to rise, signaling it was almost time to start getting ready for work. Sixty connected with the blinds, closing them all so the sun wouldn't bother you. Your temperature was dropping, much to their elation, though it was still in the triple digits. Connor made the decision to call all three of them out of work, claiming you had the flu and Sixty was having an episode, leaving him to care for the two. He didn't like lying, but he knows whether he or Sixty goes to work, both would be unable to focus, thoughts only on you. Fowler was upset, naturally, but agreed.

Your boys took care of you, playing movie after movie that you would just sleep through if you were lucky. They took turns comforting you when you were purging your, already empty, stomach, rubbing your back or getting you water. Later on, Connor ran you a bath while Sixty gathered your dirty clothes, tossing them in the washer and finding you some fresh, dry pajamas. They did everything in their power to help you make a full recovery. With your two doctors in the case, it was only a matter of time before you're back on your feet.

Chapter Text

This was not his Zen Garden.

"Connor~" you cooed from your pedestal.

No. Definitely not his Zen Garden. 

This was more like a private room in a sex club. There was a bed, a bar, some chairs...

And in front of him was you, dressed in a salacious leather and lace set, looking predatory with your crooked smile. You were on stage, lazily spinning around the pole in the middle of the stage.

"Where-"

"Does it matter? You're here and I'm here, " you held the pole leaning back, looking at him upside down. He stared at the column of your neck, and the way your hair fell back. His mouth felt dry as he gulped, "Would you prefer your prim and proper garden?"

You dropped to the ground, spinning around so he had the perfect view of you grinding against the pole, rolling your hips, swaying your ass as you slowly danced to the music. Every movement was like liquid, as if you were made to move that way. 

"Why don't you have a seat, detective, so I can give you a real show?" He licks his lips. His thirium pump was going a mile a minute, analyzing every tiny detail, those soft curves, your hands gliding along the pole, the way your sweat dripped down your skin, begging to be licked away and quench a thirst he shouldn't have. 

He took a step forward, then it hit him. 

This is all in his mind. Somehow, he must have initiated this program. He had unconsciously designed you, wearing an outfit he had seen on display for a lingerie shop. That dance you wore so well was just his memories of the Eden Club case. Everything about this seemed wrong. He was supposed to be passing time in the Zen garden until the morning. That did not entail thinking of his girlfriend in such a demeaning way. 

"Is it demeaning if I want to do this for you?" Your copy spoke, stepping off the stage and moving towards him, "Part of the human experience is new experiences. I can be whatever you want, you just have to decide what that is."

Those were your words. You told him that when you were questioning his sexual fantasies. At the time, he said he had none. He supposes he just never thought about it before. He wasn't made for physical pleasure and, before you, it just wasn't necessary. 

Though he was always... fascinated... by the way those Eden dancers moved. 

"You could go through that door, to your Zen Garden or back to your empty bed, or,- " you took his hands and placed them on your hips, "-you can have a little fun."

He could go, should go, but you seemed so real. Your skin was soft and warm, and he could feel your hot breath against his neck as you looked up to him. 

When he didn't move away, you led him to the bed, sitting him on the edge. You leaned forward and kissed him, moving heatedly. His hands were still on your waist and he tried to pull you onto his lap. Instead, you pulled back with a laugh. 

Then you got on your knees.

Your hands were on his belt, undoing it quickly before undoing the button and reaching inside. A shaky moan left him as you worked to pull him out. You did this for him once, and he greatly enjoyed it. He still didn't think this was right, but feeling your hands stroke his freed phallus, it was hard to think of anything other than how good it felt for long.

You wasted no time, licking at the tip, tonguing the slit before taking him into your warm mouth. He groaned, hands in your hair. You bobbed your head, taking him a little deeper each time. Your hand worked what you couldn't fit. You hummed, deep and low, sending him into a frenzy. 

He bucked against you, and when you hummed in approval, he did it again and again. It felt far too good, and he could feel that tightening in his gut, demanding he move faster, make you take him deeper, help him find his sweet release. You didn't mind. Matter of fact, you had your free hand down the front of your panties, working yourself frantically. 

"So beautiful, " he moaned, the pressure getting too much, forcing his eyes shut, "I-I'm close, I-" 

He opened them again, finding himself back in bed. He whined out his frustrations as the tension died down. Then, he realized what he did, how he used you. 

He had to know.

.........

Your phone started going off, playing the song you set for Connor. If it had been anyone else, you would have chucked your phone at the wall. Instead, you answered it.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Probably not. This is not the first time he has called at an odd hour because he had a question. 

"I'm sorry, but I needed to know something." Came his reply.

"Go on."

"Hypothetically speaking, if I were to accidentally create an image of you doing an erotic dance for me, then performing oral sex, how would you feel about it?" 

You were silent for a moment, making Connor panic as you tried to figure out what he was asking.

"You called me at one in the morning to ask if I cared that you had a wet dream where I strip danced for you?" This man was incredible.

"Pole-dancing actually."

You sighed. This fucking android. 

"I don't care how you choose to sin in your head. If it makes you feel better, you can return the favor sometime, alright? Now, I love you, good night."

"I love you, too." You hung up immediately after.

.......

Connor relaxed back in the bed. You said you didn't mind, so he could do it again, right?

Perhaps he should look up a protocol for male pole-dancing.

Chapter Text

Connor missed you. There was no easy way to put it. He wanted to hold you in his arms, hear your voice, taste your lips. He wanted you to explain some of the jokes the other human detectives told. Hank finds the constant barrage of questions exhausting, but you never tired. A new exhibit had opened up at the zoo, featuring mythical animals. He wanted to see it with you. 

But you weren't here..........

"I have to go. I match what they're looking for and it's their best lead." 

You both were sitting in the meeting room, an hour after you had been asked to go undercover in another precinct for a human/android trafficking ring. You would be working at a seedy strip club, as a bartender. Everything about this was terrible to Connor. Putting your life in peril while lecherous men tried to touch you? If he had any say, he would adamantly reject the idea, but... It was your choice. It tore him apart, wanting to support and protect, conflicting with each other. 

You kept trying to reassure him, that you had back-up, that your outfit had a tracker in it, that you would not be stripping. Then one of the officers you would be working with handed you your uniform, a skimpy two-piece that only covered the essentials, then had the audacity to check you out, a wolfish grin on his face. Rage threatened to boil over. Noticing, you grabbed Connor's tie, reeling him in and kissing him hard. The officer's smile fell, and he quickly exited. You pulled back, smiling up at the android, bringing your hand up to his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"I don't want you to think I want to do this. According to their data, the ring is getting bigger. It needs to be shut down." He knew you were right, that innocent lives were at stake, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. "I have to leave for debriefing tomorrow, but why don't we have some fun tonight? We can do whatever you like." You ran your hands up his stomach and over his chest, resting them on his shoulders under his jacket. His eyes fluttered, and for a second, he forgot everything. You were... And he was... 

You took hold of his tie again, pulling him to follow.

"Let's go, lover boy."..............

That was over three weeks ago. They had spent the whole night tangled together, relishing in the closeness. All too soon, you had to pack up and leave. You kissed him one last time, told him you love him, promised to be careful, and then you were gone. 

To protect your cover, he wasn't allowed to contact you, only receiving updates through the department. Apparently, you were fine and they were getting a lot of Intel. It should only be a matter of time before they have enough evidence to raid the location. He hopes so. You'll be free to come home then. 

 To think, at this very moment, some drunken idiot could be hassling you, trying to grab you. You were capable of course, but how much could you do without blowing your cover? It burned him up to think you might have to 'tolerate' any of it, for the good of the mission. 

He was walking home after another shift. Without any outstanding investigations, he wasn't allowed to stay after anymore. Apparently, not everyone appreciated his help, though he doesn't understand why. He only pointed out details they were missing or errors in their assessment. He wasn't rude about it, just factual. Hank gets tired of it too, though he has far more patience with him. He knows Connor isn't doing it to show him up, it's just how he was programmed. Deviancy can't fix everything.

The car has been sitting in the driveway for weeks. He just doesn't see the point in rushing home. All he does is stare at his fish or at the tv. He tries going over casework, but it just all leads to him worrying about you. Were they treating you alright at the other precinct? Were you getting enough sleep? Eating properly? Dragging his feet, he looks to the ground. This city always seems filthier without you, trash and cigarette buds littering the walkway. 

This is ridiculous. He had a life before you. He had hobbies and did things... Didn't he? He put in a lot of hours at the department, that's for sure. He went home to Hank's house and took care of Sumo, listened to music and read some of Hank's old paperback novels. Everything seemed so dull then. It wasn't that he was unhappy, in fact, some of those days were the best of his life, but then you showed him he could be happier, that every day could be like the best day of his life, opening doors he didn't even know were there. He sighs, kicking an empty can. 

The epitome of scientific artificial intelligence can't be left alone for five minutes. 

A call flashes on his HUD, bringing his attention away from his self-pity. It was Markus.

"Hey, Connor. Are you free tonight?"

"Yes. Why?" Did they need some help at New Jericho? Or a meeting for the leaders? Maybe some legal advice?

"Wanna hang out?" 

...hang out? He didn't even consider that. It's been a while since the last time they met up that wasn't on professional terms. Between his work at the DPD and Markus being the ambassador for androids, free time hasn't exactly been on the table. Still, wasn't he just griping about not being able to be left on his own? Wouldn't this just solidify that? He must have taken too long to answer, as Markus reiterated.

"There's a bar downtown that is offering drinks tailored to androids. Simon believes it would be a good way to unwind." So, Simon is going? He has no issues with Simon, but it makes him wonder.

"Who all will be attending?"  "Just the leaders." 

Which means North will be there.

"I think I'll just stay at home." Markus knows his issues with the psychotic woman. Staring at fish for several hours sounds like the better option.

"North will be meeting up with a few of her friends."

"What about your image? You represent our people. It won't look good if someone were to see you acting intoxicated." Connor made it to the front of his house, sitting down on the porch steps. 

"The club is for androids only. The owner has already made arrangements for us. Everything will be fine."

"Android only? I thought we were against segregation." 

"Are you being difficult on purpose?"

"No." Maybe. He doesn't really feel like going out.

"Connor, I think you need this. You can't live your life working all the time. Come out with us. It'll be fun."

"I'll think about it."

"Great! We'll be there to pick you up in half an hour!"

Connor sighed, running his hand down his face. I guess he was going out tonight. He should probably feed the fish before he goes.........

Markus showed up and eyed Connor's outfit. "Do you own other outfits?" The RK800 was wearing his usual button-up and tie, though rather than his labeled blazer, he was wearing a brown jacket. 

"Is there a problem with my attire?" It seemed adequate, just a bit casual. He adjusted his tie, to which Markus took it and pulled it off. The leader knew of Connor's ticks, and he wasn't about to spend the whole night watching him play with his tie. Connor said nothing, though he pouted a little. You bought him that tie. Still, he left it off. When it came to fashion, it seems that Markus knew best. 

"I think we should go clothes shopping sometime. Are you ready?" Connor nodded, giving his friend a half-smile. 

In the car, Markus and Simon sat upfront while North, Josh, and Connor sat in the back. Josh was brave enough to be the barrier between North and Connor. She still hasn't forgiven him for hunting his own people, or Jericho, or pointing a gun at Markus on stage at Hart Plaza. Connor, on the other hand, does not understand her desire for senseless violence or her hatred for all humans. Some resentment was understandable, considering her background, but she takes it to the extreme.

"So, where's Y/n? I didn't see her inside. Is she at work?" Markus asked. He met you on several occasions, watching Connor light up when you were in the vicinity. This time, however, Connor's expression darkened.

"I don't know. She's working a case. I'm not allowed to know where." 

"I'm sorry to hear that, " Markus internally cringed. Not a good start to the night.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" Simon looked at Connor through the rearview mirror, seeing him cross his arms as he curled into himself.

"No."

"Well, hopefully soon."

"Way to go, killing the mood, Connor, " North smirked. It was apparent she didn't want him there any more than he did her.

"Nothing a few drinks can't fix. Let's just enjoy tonight, " Josh placated.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Connor knows how Hank struggles with his addiction. He has personally had to deal with some of the lieutenant's worst days, spewing insults one moment then adamantly apologizing for the next. With his help, Hank had cut down significantly, but he still occasionally has his bad days, like on anniversaries.

"From what I understand, it's perfectly safe. It's thirium-based with several chemicals that affect androids in a way similar to alcohol in humans. It all gets worked out through the filter, though if you drink too much, you need a way to remove the excess fluids." Simon explained.

In other words, unless an android planned on purging his system, they needed functioning genitalia. In this aspect, Connor was fortunate, as he was actually built with such a thing. It was the easiest way to remove evidence that he samples. It's all collected in his filter where it gets broken down in a specialized, biodegradable cleanser, and once a month he drains it and has to drink a bottle of said cleanser to replenish his system. When he started dating you, he upgraded so his component could have "other" functions.

It still sounded like a bad idea, but he didn't want to dampen the mood any more than he already has..........

The bar had reserved a private table for them in the back. North was quick to break off from the group, leaving the men to gather at the table. The music was pumping out deep bass, androids dancing together and having fun. Connor just felt out of his element. The owner, upon seeing them, sent over a round of blue liquid in shot glasses.

"Let's loosen you up!" Markus handed Connor one of the drinks, then held his shot glass up, prompting everyone else to do the same.

"To freedom!" He cheered.

"To freedom!" Simon and Josh agreed, downing their drinks. Connor hesitated. He dipped his tongue into his glass, wincing at the flavor. This seemed more like poison than a drink.

"Are you aware that some of the elements in this drink can be quite harmful to us if consumed in large quantities?" Connor asked, incredulous that they would be so willing to put that in their systems.

"Yes, but so is alcohol in humans." Markus set his glass down and a female android wearing a tight-fitting black dress took the glass and replaced it with a full one. "You don't have too, but you should try it. Live a little!"

Connor regarded the drink once more. Maybe he's being a bit over-cautious. He downed the drink, coughing as it burned down his throat. The table cheered again, patting Connor on the back. It seemed safe enough. His system didn't immediately try to purge it. He didn't feel any different either. When the next round of shots was set, he drank it down. Then, another. And another..........

"Have you ever met him? He's an asshole." Connor shook his head.

"But it was he who created the basis to all androids." Simon intervened.

"So, because he's the reason we exist, he's not an asshole?" The RK800 scoffed.

"According to ancient mythology, that should make him even more of an asshole," Josh added.

"What are you talking about?" Markus was walking back, or rather, stumbling back. Apparently, intoxicated Markus likes to dance.

"Kamski," Simon answered. "Assholes." Connor and Josh answered at the same time. They all shared a laugh.

Connor drank down another shot. Was this his eighth or twelfth? He didn't know and, for the first time, he didn't care. He felt pretty good. Loose. Like his body was made of jello. He tried to join Markus on the dance floor, but when he went to stand, his gyroscope was malfunctioning and before he realized it, he was on the floor, joining in with his friends laughing as they attempted to help him back to his seat, dropping him twice and Josh fell down himself. Instead, they started talking about how much has changed in the last two years, what they hope to do in the future, and now, they were talking about when Kamski returned to Cyberlife. It might have been a good move for the company, but that didn't mean Connor trusted the man. Still, it was fun, just talking and joking.

 If only the other patrons at the bar would leave him alone with his friends. There must have been a dozen women who tried to get him to dance with them or buy them a drink. Even after he explained he was in a relationship, they didn't seem to care. One even sat on his lap, which he instinctively pushed her off. She did not appreciate that.

Despite it all, the atmosphere was light and jovial. Connor was glad he went out. This was significantly better than sitting and waiting. Maybe, when you get back, he'll invite you...

"Why can't humans come here?"

"Because most of them are assholes, " Simon joked, taking another shot.

"Not all of them." You weren't.

"Aww, does the detective miss his master?" North chided. She rejoined the table. She was with two other women, one of which he recognized as the woman he shoved to the ground.

"She's not my master, she's my lover, and she's far better company than you or your friends, " Connor sneered. The air did a sudden 180°, filled with hostility.

"Okay, let's calm down, " Markus tried to come between them, to keep the peace, but for North, peace was never an option.

"What? Too good for your own kind?" 

"Too good for this conversation, " Connor smirked, taking another shot. North, not the type to take being dismissed, knew exactly what to say to rile him up.

"I bet you think you mean something to your "lover". Your little human would fuck any android that asks. Probably what she's doing now."

That did it. Connor was on his feet in seconds, though he stumbled slightly as the world turned. 

"Listen here, you conniving bitch! You can talk shit about me all you want, but you leave her out of your goddamn mouth. Because you had a tough start to life, everyone else has to suffer? At least you didn't have a psychotic, murderous AI controlling all your actions, though, you two probably would have had a lot in common." Connor got in her face, next venomous words leaving his lips as a growl, "It's a shame you had to kill someone before the new laws. I would have loved seeing you carried to prison, kicking and screaming."

She punched him in the face. It threw him off balance and he fell back, catching himself on Josh. She stormed off before anything more could be said, her friends laughing. Connor got back to his feet, about ready to go after her when Markus took his shoulder.

"Why don't we call it a night?" .............

Connor sat in the passenger side of Markus' self-driving car, poking at his cheek. A ring she had been wearing had cut into the syn-skin, making it leak. It was already sealed and healing, but he was still pissed off. To avoid conflict, North caught a ride with one of her friends.

"I just don't understand her problem with humans. Not all of them used her for sex. Y/n definitely wouldn't! She loves me, not that sour... Tart. If she was there, she would have kicked North's ass!" He was ranting, and Markus had to keep himself from laughing.

"I know, Connor, I know."

"Who's that on your porch?" Simon asked. There was someone in a gray hoody curled up on the front step. When Connor saw, he jumped out of the car before it stopped moving, falling to the ground. He quickly made it back to his feet while scrambling to get closer. The commotion awoke the person sleeping there, looking up to see what's going on. 

"Y/n!" Connor bowled into you, knocking you back onto the porch. "I've missed you!" He nuzzled against you, making no moves to get up.

"I've... I've missed you... God, you're heavy! I've missed you, too." Markus came up, trying to pull him off you, but Connor's iron clasp brought you up with him. He was still snuggling against you, swaying on his feet.

"Markus, what's going on?" You asked, noticing he wasn't exactly the portrait of perfection either, over-correcting his steps and laughing.

"Have you heard of the new drinks for androids?" Markus smiled. "It looks like you can handle it from here. See you later, Connor!"

"Wait, Markus! What..." But the man sped off to his car, tripping on the front bumper, and you were certain you heard laughter coming from inside. You stood, six feet of drunken android hanging off your shoulders.

"Do you have your keys?" You asked.

Connor pulled back, checking each pocket thoroughly. After a few minutes, he smiled in triumph, pulling out his keychain. You took it from him and unlocked the door.

"Well, this explains why you weren't answering my calls."

"You called me?" He was baffled. He tried to pull up his call log on his HUD, but it glitched out and closed on its own.

"Yep. At least ten times. I lost my keys. I knew you weren't at work, and Hank has his phone turned off again, so I couldn't ask for his copy. I figured you were at Jericho, so I'd just wait for you." Connor won't answer calls if he's in a meeting. He has a number for emergencies, but it's not like the two of you lived in a bad neighborhood, and it was a nice night, if not just a tad chilly.

"I'm sorry, " he sounded so sad, you made the mistake of turning and looking at him. Eyes doleful, wet with unshed tears, lips pouted. No human or android should be able to pull off the sad puppy look so well!

"It's fine! You should hang with your friends more!"

"I'm sorry."

"It was only ten minutes, tops." Actually, over an hour.

"I'm sorry." A tear escaped one of his eyes. 

"No! It's fine! Don't cry!" You pulled him into a hug, which he immediately sank in to. "Come on, let's get you to the couch." You more carried him to it, tripping on the end table in the dark. You finally got him down, breathing a sigh of relief. You went to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Where are you going? You just got home!"

"To turn on the lights and get a glass of water." You kissed his forehead, "I'm not going anywhere."

He reluctantly released your arm. Still pouting as he leaned back.

You went about turning on the lights.

"How did everything go?"

"Professionally? Very well. Personally? Worst time of my life." You came back, setting your drink on the counter. With the lights on, he had a clear view of your face. Your left eye was bruised, and you had a split lip. Your neck was also discolored, as if someone had tried to choke you.

"Who did this to you?" He cupped your cheek, trying to get a better view, but his damn vision kept swimming. Who would dare to hurt you? Death will be a blessing when he gets his hands on them.

"Connor, I'm fine. They're already behind bars anyway. Some guy was plastered and wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Where was your back-up?" You didn't answer him. They didn't want to 'risk the investigation' over something you should be able to handle. Just because they were right, doesn't make it right.  

"I don't want you going undercover again. I don't care how many lives are at stake!"

"Calm down, " you took hold of his hand, but he pulled out of your grasp, taking your upper arms as he pleaded with you.

"No! I want you to promise me you won't do this again! I can't lose you! I didn't want you to do it before, and now you're injured! Next time, it could be worse! Just, please... I can't control your life, but please don't do this again." He leaned his head forward, resting against your stomach. "Please."

"Okay, " your hands went to stroke along the back of his neck, "I promise." You lifted his head, gazing into his eyes. "I promise, okay?" He closes his eyes, savoring the words, knowing you will be safe, that he can help keep you safe. 

He felt your lips on his, your hands running along his scalp. He was quick to respond. In this moment, he was no longer sitting in a house.

This was what home felt like.

When you pulled away, his eyes remained closed for a moment, lips curling into a smile. You giggled as he opened his eyes and you weren't sure if he was dazed from drinking or from the kiss. It was a perfect moment...

Ruined when your stomach started to grumble.

"Sometimes, it really sucks to be human. All I wanna do is love on my man after not seeing him for almost a month, but my stomach can't go twelve hours without making a fuss." You gave him a final peck on the forehead before heading to the kitchen. Unwilling to leave you alone for a second, Connor stumbled after you.

Opening the fridge, you were met with bottles of condiments and nothing else.

"I cleaned out the fridge last week. I didn't know when you'd be back." Connor found himself staring at your ass when you bent down to look in the crisper, as if food will magically manifest in the little drawers. He found the way it moved to be quite hypnotic,  swaying back and forth.

"Guess I'm on frozen dinner." You grabbed one, fiddling with the package before chucking it into the microwave. In that time, Connor had moved behind you.

"You're very pretty, " he spoke, pressing up against you and hugging you.

"And you're very drunk, " you giggled. He started to sway back and forth, dancing to music only he could hear.

"Wanna go to the zoo?" He mumbled in your ear.

"I'm pretty sure they're closed right now."

"They have a android dragon, now."

"That's cool but they're still closed."

"And a mermaid."

"And despite that, they are still closed!" You exclaimed.

"But... I wanna go..." Came his whine.

You turned in his arms, putting your hands on his shoulders as you both continued to sway. Connor was pouting again. So cute.

"We can go tomorrow, when they are open, okay?"

"...fine." He smiled down at you, happy to have you home. He wants to hold you close for the next month to make up for lost time. You rested your head against him as he pulled you closer. "I've missed you, " he whispered, closing his eyes as he rested against your head.

"I've missed you, too. Not one minute went by that I didn't wish I was curled up next to you, " you murmured, listening to the thrums of his thirium pump. You didn't even hear the microwave go off, nor did you care in this moment.

Connor's hands slowly started roaming, creeping from their place on your hips to your ass, gently kneading it. You would be lying if you said it didn't feel nice. Three weeks of running around a bar wearing high heels can really put a strain on your body. Your soft moan encouraged him to grab just a little harder, pushing you flush against his pelvis, getting a good idea of just how much he missed you.

"Someone's feeling frisky, " you chuckled.

"I think I have an addictive personality. I just can't get enough of you. Will you enable me?" He punctuated the last sentence by grinding against you.

"You must be drunk to think you need pick-up lines to get to me, " your own hands started to wander from his shoulders, sliding across his pecs to his waist, then his hips where you traced along his pelvic "bone" before pulling away, just as your stomach decided to make you aware of your food cooling in the microwave. "Human needs overpower human desires. You have to wait."

Once again, Connor pouted, but he agreed. As you ate, you both sat on the couch, tv on but at a low volume. You asked about what he's been up to and if he had fun tonight. He told you about North being a bitch and how you should kick her ass if you ever meet her, earning a laugh from you. When you finished your food, you got up to put your dish in the sink. On the way back, you started undoing your shirt buttons for what is to come.

Or rather, what was to come. Connor had laid down and must have found it so comfortable, he entered sleep mode. His LED spun a lazy blue. He looked so relaxed. You turned off the lights and grabbed a blanket. Then, you took off your jeans and laid down on top of him. Other than his LED flickering a little faster for a moment, he didn't react. Lastly, you tossed the blanket over you both, laying your head down and letting his artificial heart be your lullaby..........

The next morning, Connor woke up in a daze. The sunlight seemed too bright from the blinds, prompting him to close his eyes as he connected to the house system and closed them. There was a pressure in his lower abdomen. A warning was flashing on his HUD informing him of his need to remove excess fluids. He went to sit up, only to realize there was another weight on top of him. He opened his eyes, finding you laying across his body. You looked so peaceful, eyes closed, mouth slightly open as you lightly snored. He could lay here forever, but the warnings kept flashing, and the pressure in his groin felt so uncomfortable. Why did he have to drink so much? 

He fought with himself, trying not to move until it was getting to be too much. Gently, he rolled over, trying to ease you onto the couch. He did not notice how your arms wrapped around his neck, locked together. When he stood up, your weight pulled him back down. You whined out a protest to being moved, making him freeze as he tried to get you to let go.

"Love? Could you let go, please?" He whispered into your ear. Your lips curled as you kept your eyes closed.

"I could, " you mumbled. He sighed.

"Would you please release me? I need to use the restroom."

"No, I don't really want to." The warnings started flashing brighter, making his head throb.

"Please, love? Sweetheart? I really need to go, " he spoke, borderline desperate. When you didn't answer, he stood, once again bringing you up, practically carrying you towards the bathroom, all the while you were giggling. The blanket tangled around his feet and he fell backwards to the ground.

"Please, Y/n, let me go! I'll do anything!" 

"Say,  'Y/n is the nicest, most beautiful woman in the world and it is an honor for me to be graced by her presence'!"

"Y/n is the nicest, most beautif-" you cut him off with a kiss. It was so brief, he chased after your lips when you pulled back.

"Close enough, " you snickered, releasing him and pushing off from his chest. You offered your hand to him to help him up, which he took, laughing as you struggled to haul him up. 

Quickly, he pulled you close and kissed you.

"When I'm finished, we're picking up where we left off, " he smirked before dashing off, leaving you shook for a moment.

"I'll hold you to that!" You called after him, looking forward to a proper 'Welcome Home'.

Chapter Text

Connor was sitting on Hank's couch, trying to kill time. The tv was on with the volume low, playing old tv re-runs that Connor had seen at least a dozen times. Hank had gone to bed hours ago, as did Sumo, leaving the android to his own devices. Usually, he would spend this time in his Zen garden, idly watching the fish swim in the pond or going over case files under the cherry tree. Tonight, however, he felt restless. He didn't want to go into stasis, or watch tv. He didn't want to peruse Hank's many novels or listen to music. Quite frankly, he didn't know what he wanted. So, he sat, staring at the tv, but not actually watching it.

He thinks over his day, trying to figure out why he felt so odd. He remembers coming in, getting Hank's coffee, hearing Gavin's insults, and then getting to work finding leads in recent cases. Then, him and Hank left to question a few witnesses, followed by lunch at the Chicken Feed. The rest of the day seemed to have gone along those lines. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary... Then it hit him. 

You didn't say 'good morning' to him. 

You always tell him 'good morning', or at least 'hi' if you are aware of the time, followed by a kiss on his cheek. He looked back over his memories, relaxing when he saw you dashing around in the background. You must have been busy today, but...

You always say 'good morning'.

It was such a stupid thing to obsess over, but the more he thought the more he realized he didn't get to see you smile today either, or receive a 'good night' hug as they had left before you. He didn't even get to sneak off with you for a quick 'make-out' session on your break as you didn't seem to take one today. He had essentially gone the whole day without you, and didn't notice until now. 

Guilt bubbled and festered in him. How could he go through his whole routine and not notice his girlfriend was missing from it? Why didn't he figure it out and actively searched for your attention? What if you needed help? What if you didn't eat today? What if you were still at work, toiling away while he sits watching television?

He calls the department, putting in your extension. It rang four times before your voice came though.

"This is Y/n L/n, head android technician and specialist for the Detroit Police 7th Precinct. I am currently unavailable to take your call, but in case of an emergency call-"

Connor hung up, happy to know you weren't working yourself to death. 

Still, to have gone the whole day without you. Did you notice? Did you realize that he didn't get to return your usual sentiments? That he had to miss lunch with you because him and the lieutenant were already "out and about"? 

............

Your phone rang, prompting you to groan out your annoyance for the infernal thing interrupting your much needed rest.

"Con, we've got to talk about the importance of sleep schedules, " you grumbled in the phone.

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late, but it's come to my attention that you didn't say 'good morning' to me."

"... Good morning. Anything else?" 

"..." That was technically what he wanted, so why didn't it feel as nice as it does at work? Is it because he knows he's interrupted your rest for something so ridiculous? Why did he want it in the first place? 

Maybe that's not what he really wants.

"Con? What do you really want?" You sighed.

"Would it be alright if I came over?"

"Sure."

..................

Connor stood outside your door 15 minutes later, still dressed in his sweatpants and a tank top. He rang the bell, only to receive no answer. After hitting it a second time with the same result, he held it down, hearing the annoying buzz resound from the outside. The door opened abruptly, to which you knocked his hand away from the doorbell.

"The fuck, Connor?" You quipped, which quickly turned to a yawn as you stretched. "Come on, let's get inside." He followed you, closing and locking the door behind himself.

"Now, you gonna tell me what's wrong, or do I have to guess?" You yawned again, and Connor recognized that he had woken you up, twice he assumes, and isn't entirely sure why.

"I don't know, " he was certain you were going to go off on him, instead, you took his hand. 

"Well, you have all night to figure it out. You're stuck with me until then." You pulled him to your room and gestured to the bed, "make yourself comfortable."

Connor kicked off his shoes and crawled onto your bed, resting against the backboard.

"No, what I mean is-" you pull the blankets back, "-here, get under them." He realized what you wanted, shifting under the blankets and laying his head against the pillow. You crawled underneath as well, laying your head on his shoulder, an arm over his chest and you were even so bold as to throw a leg over his thighs.

It didn't take him long to realize this was what he wanted. He wanted you, with him, in person. No phone calls could satisfy the emptiness he felt when you weren't around him. No simple greeting could express the true meanings behind the action. He rolled over, giving you his arm to use as a pillow. His other arm pulled you close before nestling against your waist.

"Y/n?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Could I... Could I have a kiss?" You didn't open your eyes immediately, but your lips curled into a small smile. Shifting forward, you pressed your lips to his, slow and sweet, over too soon for Connor's taste. You kissed him one more time before you were too exhausted to hold your head up.

"Good Night, Connor, I love you." You could practically feel him buzzing at your words, trying to pull you closer against him.

"I love you, too. Sleep well."