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Connor exited the taxi, his shoes crunching on the snow below. The taxi door mechanically closed, then drove off down the road. Connor took a glance, then surveyed the house and its poorly maintained front yard before heading for the front door.
He lifted his arm to knock, but then opted for checking the door handle first. It turned, and steadily, he opened it, peeking through before stepping inside. He shut the door behind him, his optics adjusting to the lack of light in the house.
Connor saw Hank in the kitchen, with a mess of miscellaneous objects scattered on the floor around him. He was sitting at the table with poor posture, strands of gray hair covering his eyes. Only the kitchen’s light was on. He glanced to the T.V. and saw Sumo resting underneath it, rubbing his nose with his paw.
Connor began his approach towards Hank, rubbing his hands together; an action to imitate humans’ various pointless gestures. Standing before Hank, he narrowed his eyes at the half-empty alcohol bottle on the table, as well as a photo. A photo of Hank’s son. He also noticed Hank eyeing the gun before him, only a few inches from his fingertips.
“I was worried about you, Lieutenant.” Connor began, trying to make eye contact with Hank but failing, as the older man continued to stare at the gun. “I came by to see if you’re all right.”
Slowly, Hank raised his head, looking vaguely in Connor’s direction. His eyes seemed pale with a lack of life in them. Connor waited for him to speak, but after a moment, Hank lowered his eyes back to the gun.
Connor frowned at the blank treatment. His eyes flickered towards the photo. “You should stop looking at the photo, Lieutenant.” Hank didn’t even spare him a glance. “Nothing can change the past,” Connor pressed, “But you can learn to live again. For yourself, and for Cole.”
At last, Hank lifted his head again and spoke. “Y’know, every time you died and came back… It made me think of Cole.” He stared at the table. “I’d give anything to hold him again.” He gave a small, twisted smirk. “But humans don’t come back.” He shuffled in his seat, licking his dry lips.
Connor decided to keep pushing. “Hank, I—”
“Now leave me alone.” Hank interrupted, grumbling. “Go on, complete your mission, since that’s all you care about.”
Connor’s eyes widened fractionally, and he furrowed his brows sullenly.
Hank’s head suddenly snapped up again. “Get outta here!” He snarled, his voice slurred with the evidence of drinking.
Connor remained rooted to his spot. “Lieutenant, I am simply concerned for your wellbeing.” Hank glared at him, although his face was clearly slacking and his gaze was starting to unfocus. “There is a high possibility that you will kill yourself over the next few days.”
Hank let out a snort, shaking his head slightly. “The fuck do you even care?”
“It would be a shame if you were to kill yourself over my actions.” Connor continued. “I know that I am responsible for your current feelings, and I’d like to fix that, if possible.”
“You can’t. Now get out.”
Connor took a small step forward. “You need to find a reason to live again, and I want to help you find it.”
“I don’t need a fucking reason to live!” Hank abruptly yells, grabbing his alcohol bottle and smashing it on the floor. The contents spilled over, glass shattering and drifting out. Sumo let out a loud whine.
Connor stared at Hank in small surprise, then morphed his face to become impassive. “What about Sumo?” He decided to try at it, after recalling its presence nearby. “If you’re gone, who would take care of him?”
“Don’t you try that shit on me,” Hank growled, slowly rising out of his seat. His hand still remained pressed near the loaded gun. “For the last damn time, get the fuck outta here.”
Connor pressed his lips into a thin line, raising his head slightly to stare down Hank. “I will not. I will only leave after receiving confirmation that you won’t harm yourself in my absence.”
“Fine. I won’t kill myself? Happy?” Hank raised his left hand, flicking it at Connor in a shooing motion, as if he was a pesky fly. “Now be a good android and get out.”
“I can sense your sarcasm, Lieutenant.” Connor said tightly. He made himself go lax, softening his voice. “I only want to help.”
Hank stared at Connor with a dent in his brow. Connor tensed himself in preparation for another shout, but Hank’s expression suddenly shifted. There was a slight curiosity in his eyes. Connor couldn’t help the small inkling of unease in his circuits.
“Actually… I know of a way you can help me.” Hank murmured, narrowing his eyes. There was a slight quirk of his lips and Connor noticed his fingers moving away from the gun. He knew that was a positive thing, and yet Connor’s unease only grew.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” Connor inquired with a minor tilt of his head. Hank’s eyes squinted at him, and he slowly edged closer, keeping several fingers on the table to keep himself steady. He drew up right next to Connor, and visibly swallowed.
“So… you want to help me, right?” Hank said, asking the obvious. Connor nodded. Hank frowned, and Connor could see guilt drawn on his face, but it was quickly replaced with a cruel snarl. “Alright you damn machine, if you wanna help me so bad, then bend over.”
Connor froze, staring at him in shock. Hank remained standing, staring right back at him, but the longer Connor looked at him, the more nervous he appeared. Eventually, he snapped again. “What? I thought you were gonna help. If you won’t do it, then get out.”
Connor forcefully wiped away his startled expression. “Hank, I don’t see how that would help you.”
Hank gritted his teeth, jabbing a finger against Connor’s chest. “I’m telling you it’s gonna help, so it’s gonna fucking help. Either do it or not.”
Connor’s mouth parted slightly in dismay. He glanced down, looking over at the table. He slowly edged toward it and bent over the table, pressing his chest flat against the wood. He lowered his face onto his right cheek, looking at Hank and seeing his pupils steadily go wide. “Is this helping you?”
Hank stared blankly for a few more seconds before snapping back into reality, nodding his head quickly. “Yeah… yeah, it is.” He put one hand on Connor’s shoulder blades and moved it down, caressing Connor’s back. He squirmed uncomfortably but remained still as Hank moved his hand to the small of Connor’s back.
“I think this is the first time you’ve actually listened to me,” Hank let out a soft, disbelieving snort. He stared at Connor’s bottom for a few moments before stepping behind him, placing his rough hands on Connor’s hips. He brought his hands to Connor’s pant buttons and undid them, slowly bringing them down until Connor’s underwear revealed. His breath caught tightly and his eyes darkened.
“Lieutenant…” Connor began, Hank’s head shooting back up in response. His breath was heavy. Connor frowned. “Your actions are highly unethical. I recommend we stop and find a more healthy alternative that would benefit your situation.”
Hank chuckled. “Nah, this is definitely healthy. It’ll relieve a lot of my tension.” Connor sensed the sexual innuendo but kept silent. As long as this will help Hank, he’ll bear with it.
Hank’s hands began groping at Connor’s ass softly, as if experimenting. He then pinched it tightly, and Connor let out a soft noise. Hank’s breath quickened and rubbed over the spot he pinched, then dipped his fingers under Connor’s waistband and pulled them down as well.
“Wow.” Hank muttered, staring at the completely unblemished, smooth, and hairless ass before him. He couldn’t help but rub his hand down one of cheeks in awe. “Cyberlife really wanted to make you perfect, huh?”
Connor's hands curled into small fists and he forced his eyes closed. He was just a machine. A machine. And yet, he felt a small revulsion at Hank’s actions. An emotion. He swallowed down his feelings and held himself still.
Hands gripped at both of his cheeks, spreading them apart. Hank stared intently at the pink hole that appeared. He pressed his right thumb onto the hole, rubbing it. It was dry.
“... gimme a sec.” Hank murmured. He backed off and stalked towards his bedroom, leaving Connor to lie on the table. Connor’s breath stuttered and he grew anxious. He brought his hands down to his pants, feeling the urge to pull them back up and leave the house. But his systems dutifully supplied him with the 89% chance of Hank killing himself after his departure.
The percentage was familiar to him. He suddenly recalled the time where he chased after Rupert, the deviant. The time where he left Hank to hang off the edge of the rooftop, chasing after Rupert instead after concluding that Hank had an 89% of survival. He remembered Hank’s anger when he caught up to him and the swift strike across his cheek.
He dropped his hands, knowing that Hank’s current predicament is his fault. He failed Hank, and he needed to right it again before taking out the leader of the deviants and ending the revolution. He brought his hands back up to the table right before Hank came back with a bottle of lotion.
Hank licked his lips, inwardly pleased that Connor obediently stayed in place. He put the lotion on the table. With eagerness, he unbuckled his belt then undid his buttons. He took out his erect dick and pumped the lotion onto one hand, smoothing the liquid over his cock. Then, he pumped the lotion again, this time rubbing it between his fingers. He pressed a finger against Connor’s hole, slowly edging it inside.
Connor tensed, his hands curling up into fists again as Hank pushed deeper. Machines couldn’t feel pain, and Connor was a machine. This preparation was not necessary. Connor twisted his back slightly to look back at Hank before speaking. “You don’t need to use your fingers.” Better for him to just get this over with and be on his way.
Hank looked startled, eyes widening. “What?” His parted mouth shut closed with realization. “Oh, right. Androids don’t feel pain.” He scoffed and shook his head, as if he pitied himself for his actions; for trying to treat Connor gently, as a lover would.
Hank smeared the lotion-covered fingers on Connor’s ass then gripped his cock, pressing the head of it against the pink hole. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing in disbelief. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself into the tight entrance. He placed his hands on Connor’s hips and grabbed tightly to steady himself as he thrusted forward.
Connor made a small gasp, pressing his face against the table in an attempt to hide his expression. Hank’s cock hardened further at the noise. Without a care for any damages, Hank bucked his hips forward, digging deep into Connor’s ass.
“Lieutenant!” Connor groaned in surprise. He pressed his hand against Hank’s hip to try to keep him back. “Wait…”
Hank ignored him, pulling back out before shoving in again. He snapped his hips against Connor’s ass, reveling in the small noises Connor let out. His hands gripped tighter on Connor’s hips, enough to bruise a human. Each slam of his cock shook the table. Connor stretched his arm out to grip the edges of the table, bracing himself as Hank’s brutal pace increased.
Hank gave a ragged laugh, bending slightly as his pace continued to grow more erratic. He was now doing short, but very quick thrusts, leaving Connor to spill out whimpers against the table. Hank leaned over Connor’s body and bit down on his neck, suckling hickeys onto his skin. The corner of his eye watched Connor’s expressions in hunger as he continued to snap his hips, fucking Connor against the wooden table.
Connor couldn’t help the soft moans he let out. His systems responded to the simulation and his face began to flush, his own cock hardening. He felt a slight disgust in himself, in his systems, for forcing him to react.
Hank was letting out rough gasps and groans against Connor’s neck, his warm breath tickling his skin. One of Hank’s hands moved down from Connor’s hips and wrapped around Connor’s cock. Feeling the precum already leaking from Connor’s head, Hank became astonished.
“Fuck… you’re enjoying this?” Hank bit his lip, trying to contain his perverse excitement. He changed his pace, now opting for the long, deep strokes that slammed against Connor’s ass and pushed the wooden table forward. Connor couldn’t respond to Hank’s words without letting out loud gasps.
With predatory greed in his eyes, Hank began to quickly jerk Connor off, matching it with every sharp thrust of his hips. He could feel Connor’s body clench, and Hank pressed his teeth together as Connor’s hole grew impossibly tighter. Hank’s body was old; any minute now, he was gonna burst.
Wanting to ride this as quick as possible to derive the most pleasure out of it, Hank shoved his cock in and out, the table starting to creak under the weight. He squeezed Connor’s cock roughly, not caring for the pain as Connor couldn’t feel any anyways.
As he felt his climax approaching, Hank bit down on Connor’s neck once more, jacking off Connor at high speeds as he thrusted in as deep as he could. Connor let out a loud groan, some pseudo-saliva dribbling down his lips. Hank came in bursts, bucking against Connor to ride out the aftershocks. Immediately afterwards, Connor came, squirting shot after shot onto the tiled floors.
Hank laid on top of Connor for a minute, completely drained of his energy. He hadn’t had a fuck like this in a long time. He shifted slightly, trying to get a look at Connor’s face, but unfortunately the android kept his head tucked against his arms, face completely concealed. Hank frowned but dismissed it, rising and taking his cock out of Connor’s now leaking hole. He tucked his dick back into his pants.
“That was a great fuck.” Hank said, breathing heavily. His face was flushed as he gazed down on Connor’s body. “You really helped me out. Really.”
Connor didn’t respond, lying unmoving on the table. Hank sweated, the strands of his hair clinging onto his forehead. His chest grew tight with a semblance of remorse, but he pushed it down. “Alright. I promise I won’t kill myself now, so clean yourself up and skedaddle.”
It took a few seconds for Connor to leverage one arm underneath him and push himself up. He used his other arm to grab his pants and underwear, holding them up. Once he stood straight, he quickly buttoned his pants and adjusted his tie, turning around sharply.
“You’re not even gonna clean up?” Hank asked in surprise, a bit of disgust coating his expression. Connor eyebrows drew tightly together and he glared at Hank.
“I hope that helped, Lieutenant.” Connor said pointedly, displeasure clear in his tone. Hank gulped and gave a quick nod, moving out of the way. Connor gave one last narrowed look before pushing past him, heading straight for the door. Sumo’s head lifted and he let out a bark when Connor opened the door and shut it loudly behind him.
Hank stared at the front door for a minute, realization of what he’d done creeping onto him. On how he took advantage of Connor like that. A small part of him thought it was what the android deserved, but his heart still panged with guilt.
“Fuck!” Hank slammed a fist on the wooden table, causing it to shake. The gun rattled. His eyes quickly darted towards it, but he forced himself to look away. He wasn’t going to kill himself. Not after what just happened. Sumo wailed and padded over, pressing his nose against Hank’s calf. Hank bent down and scratched behind Sumo’s ears, which got him a happy shake of a tail. Hank sighed, plopping himself back down on the chair, ignoring the cum stained floor. He’ll clean it up later.
Androids are just machines. After everything he’s been through, he should have accepted that already. He knows it has to be true.
He glanced at the photo of his son, Cole, still resting on the table. The table where he just fucked Connor. He felt shame crawling up his neck.
He closed his eyes shut, trying to will away the tight feeling in his gut. Deciding to sleep it off, he laid his front down on the table, using his arm as a pillow as his vision edged with darkness. He’ll think more about his actions tomorrow.