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Hank's back smacked into the wall of the stall. It was like they were fighting, struggling and shoving, Hank's breath huffing from him as they kissed.
He had a grip on Connor's ass, hauling him close, grinding his cock into him. The android's dick was hard. That was the thing that finally shook him out of it.
"Wait, wait. Fuck!" Hank shoved Connor away. "This is fucking insane." He pushed his back off the wall. "What the fuck is this? The fuck d'you think you're doing?"
"Isn't it obvious, Lieutenant?"
Hank wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're—malfunctioning, for Christ's sake! Something's gone wrong with your—" Hank gestured to his head "—programming."
"I can assure you, Lieutenant, my systems are functioning normally."
"Okay, well I think you better just log one of your little reports with CyberLife and see what they have to say about this." Hank stared at the outline of the erection in Connor's pants. "This is too much for my goddamn brain. I'm going for a walk."
He reached for the door. Connor laid his hand on it before Hank could get it open.
"You need my assistance," Connor said.
Hank rounded on him.
"Your assistance," he repeated.
"For the last few days you've been short-tempered, distracted, unproductive—"
"You're seriously pissing me off—"
"You're sexually frustrated," Connor said.
The words hung in the air for a beat of absolute quiet.
Connor put on that slightly wincing look of commiseration that pissed Hank off so much, the one the android liked to use when he was delivering a piece of criticism.
"It's affecting your work," Connor said delicately.
For a moment, Hank just stared.
"You're fucking unbelievable, you know that?" Hank said. "You think I'm not being productive enough at work, so you jump me in the bathroom?"
Connor gazed at him placidly.
"Something's gone haywire in your brain, Connor—just look at you!" On impulse, Hank grabbed Connor none-too-gently by the bulge of his fake dick. "What the hell do you even have this for—?"
Connor's hand shot out and he gripped Hank's wrist and Hank immediately let him go. The look on the android's face brought Hank up short. Maybe (probably) it was all Hank's imagination, some trick of the human-seeming face, some blurring of reality where Hank's brain was stepping in to fill a gap—but Hank's body read the situation like this: he was in a bathroom stall with another man who might be about to take a swing at him.
A rush of readiness had gone up his spine. Hank pulled his hand free and backed up a step. He huffed out a breath and pulled his clothes straight. Hands on his hips, he nodded towards Connor's crotch.
"What does an android who hunts other androids even need a dick for exactly?"
"As I already explained, I was designed to integrate with humans." Connor's expression had smoothed into something more relaxed. He looked down at himself, then back at Hank with a friendly quirk of his brow, leaning in a little, like a sales clerk explaining a hidden feature on a kitchen appliance. "I self-lubricate."
"Jesus Christ." Hank tried to turn away just so he didn't have to go on looking at that guileless face, but there wasn't room for turning in the cramped stall. "Some pervert at CyberLife gave you a sex doll function, is that it? You're programmed to proposition people at work to—boost productivity—?"
"No," Connor broke in. "Strictly speaking, I'm...working outside the parameters of my mission by doing this. But I made the assessment that it was necessary, given the context of our particular situation. I was equipped with this function for a reason. You're my partner, Hank—"
"Aw sweet Jesus," Hank muttered despairingly.
"—and the success of our mission depends on both of us functioning optimally."
Hank laughed mirthlessly. "You know what? Fuck you."
Connor cocked his head.
"This is what it's come to." Hank gestured to indicate the stall. "An android is trying to pity-fuck me because he thinks I'm too horny to do my job!"
"I didn't mean to offend you." A small frown pinched Connor's brows. "I'm only trying to offer you some relief. Unless I'm mistaken, you haven't had sex in at least eight months, one week and three days—"
"What the fuck?" Hank exploded. "Why are you keeping track of that?"
"I'm your partner. Your wellbeing is my concern." Connor paused, then added firmly, "It has become necessary for me to intervene."
"Okay. You're a real charmer, you know that?" Hank looked Connor over—the placid expression, the boy scout smoothness of him, the very obvious erection. You had to see the funny side of it. "You're really gonna help me out, huh? You even used that thing before?" Hank nodded at Connor's hard-on.
"I admit, I'm inexperienced. I could penetrate you if you'd prefer, but given that I self-lubricate—"
"Okay, okay." Hank held up a hand for him to stop.
"I imagined—" Connor glanced at the toilet seat. The automatic lid was down. "If you sat down, I could..." He looked at Hank uncertainly.
"You imagined?" Hank repeated, his voice a little rough in spite of himself. "You know there are cameras outside, hotshot? Did you ever stop to think how it might look, us being in here?"
"I inserted looped footage to the cameras covering the route to the bathroom. We're still sitting at our desks."
"You—" Hank nearly choked. He got in the kid's face. "You're supposed to follow the rules! Do you have any idea how much trouble you'd be in if anyone found out you did that?"
Connor placed a hand on Hank's chest and pushed him back a step. Then Connor sank to his knees.
"Connor—" Hank grit out warningly, trying to back up out of reach, but Connor had him by the belt. "Just hang on—"
"This will go more smoothly if you cooperate with me."
He was calmly unbuckling Hank's belt, his dark glossy head bent to the task. Hank planted his hand on the wall above Connor indecisively.
"Shit," he grumbled.
Hank landed on his ass on the toilet seat, his trousers round his ankles, his dick hard as hell, slippery wet from the kid's mouth.
"Just a—just a goddamn second—" he huffed.
The situation was well and truly out of control. He watched as Connor got naked from the waist down, with rapid efficient movements, shoes, socks, trousers, underwear all left to one side—then the tidy white shirt was worked open, the neck of the shirt remained buttoned, so his shirt and his jacket stayed on, his torso naked, he tossed his tie over his shoulder, then he came forward and braced his hand on Hank's shoulder and his dick was right in front of Hank's face for a moment before he was lowering himself to sit in Hank's lap.
"Woah, woah—" Hank tried to grab him somewhere where he was still clothed, but just like Connor was in the field, he was unstoppable when he'd fixed on an objective.
Connor took Hank's cock in his hand and with the same deft proficiency with which Hank has seen him slot a magazine into a gun, Connor now handled Hank's dick, guiding the bulb head to his asshole, guiding it there where he was wet and so tight, and then holding it still as he started to sit himself down on it.
Hank's hand was fisted up in Connor's jacket. Connor sat. Down, down. Hank choked out, "Jesus. Fuck. Slowly—fuck me—slowly!"
"I recommend you keep your voice down, Lieutenant."
Hank hissed, his hands now clamped on Connor's slim waist. His head dropped back for a moment, his face screwed up tight. "You're—ah—you're too fucking tight—"
Connor just kept taking him in. He took him until he'd seated himself.
"Are you in any discomfort?" A faint quirk of Connor's eyebrows showed concern. His perfectly combed hair, his manner so polite and obliging, it was difficult to reconcile with the fact he'd seated himself in Hank's lap, on Hank's dick.
Hank breathed through his teeth.
"You're out of your fucking mind, you know that?" he growled.
Connor started to undulate his hips, started riding him, good and slow.
"Oh...fuck." Hank rolled his skull against the wall, wincing trying to look away from what was happening. "This is wrong. Connor— This is so fucking wrong."
It felt so good. Hank was holding Connor's hips, guiding him.
"Was this what—CyberLife intended for their—most sophisticated model?" Hank panted.
And now it was incredibly wet, Connor's lubricant slippery over everything.
"I believe" Connor said carefully, "that our working relationship will improve if you can get past your frustrations with me—"
"My frustrations with you? I just can't stop thinking about—about you? Is that what you think?"
"That's not what I meant, Lieutenant." Connor's pink tongue moved over his lower lip. "I have observed that I often...frustrate you." His eyes were black, boring into Hank.
"You noticed that, huh?" Hank gave in and took both cheeks of that sweet plump little ass in both his hands, firmly guiding the lift and drop of that tight little hole onto his hard cock.
"And you're seriously doing this because I haven't been...productive enough?" He squeezed his fingers into the doughy-soft flesh, so warm, so human-feeling.
"I'm not hurting you?" Connor said.
Hank squinted up at him. "What?"
"I haven't done this before. I don't want to accidentally injure you—"
"Jesus," Hank broke in. "Don't try to act all innocent when you're—bouncing on my dick!"
"Would you like me to stop?"
"No. Just—just shut up for five seconds and let me just..."
Connor obliged. The meaty, solid pat-pat-pat of his ass dropping into Hank's lap was loud in the bathroom, the slippery wet sound of Hank's dick moving in him, the sex sound of it. Hank supposed he was fucking a heated, slippery-tight silicone inner-sleeve, but to Hank what it felt like was just about the best ass he'd ever stuck his dick in.
"Fuck," Hank groaned, a low groan of reluctance, feeling up Connor's ass cheeks, one in each hand, holding him while the kid rode him.
This was his partner. Yes, he was an android, and Hank never exactly forgot about that fact, but it didn't stop Connor from being his partner. Everything that entailed. It was a kind of a marriage. Connor was just Connor, the man Hank worked cases with, shot the shit with, chased down perps with, used as a sounding board for feeling out a case. The man who had his back. The man who cleaned Hank up when he'd had a few too many, made sure he got home and in bed safely, covered for him with the Captain.
Now his partner was bouncing in his lap. Hank should never have allowed this to happen, but here he was, getting his dick treating to a tight, sweet fuck.
"Oh fuck. Like that. Just like that." Hank licked his lips, trying to calm down. "Why the hell are you so—hot inside."
"I can easily adjust it." Connor's voice was higher, softer.
"No. It's—it's fine." It felt incredible. Hank looked his fill of Connor's naked torso, his pretty jiggling cock, the helmet very pink, beautifully formed, the testicles small drawn up tight. Why the fuck did they give a cop android a pretty little package like that?
"How long you been planning this?" Hank said raggedly. "Huh?"
"Since...last Friday."
"What?"
"Since you saw me."
"What the hell are you talking about now?" Hank knew exactly what he was talking about.
Last Friday, when Connor had ruined his clothes hauling a perp out of the river. Hank took him into the locker room at the station and ordered him to shower. He'd gone and dug up some department track pants and t-shirt and when he returned to the locker room, there was Connor, naked and freshly-showered, standing dripping barefoot on the tile, awaiting further instructions. There was nothing different in his posture as he'd turned towards Hank, it was like he thought he was fully clothed even though he was buck naked.
"Lieutenant?" Connor had tilted his head, staring at Hank inquiringly.
"You were sexually aroused," Connor said. "And then—you were—difficult to work with for the rest of the day."
Hank grit his teeth. "Probably because you were pissing me off." His hands were lifting and dropping Connor's ass on his cock. It was wetter than ever, his slippery hot little hole so good, sucking tight.
"Fuck, you're killing me," Hank groaned, unable to keep up a front while his dick was fucking something so sweet.
Connor gazed down at him, the messy little strand of hair across his brow bouncing as he bounced like a horse rider in Hank's lap.
"Is it good?" Connor said.
"You know it's good," Hank huffed. "Shit. You know how fucking good that is, Connor. Tight like that... You're gonna make me come. Urgh—Christ. Why'd they make you so—?" He reached up and gently pinched Connor's pretty pink nipple. Connor slowed his rate of bouncing and tucked his chin down to look at his nipple.
Wanting to provoke him, Hank touched his fingers experimentally to Connor's prick.
Connor locked up like someone had pulled his batteries out, slumping forward so his shoulder knocked into Hank's chin.
"Jesus—Connor? You okay?" Hank sat there panting with the weight of the android heavy on him.
Connor's body lost its rigidity and he sat up straight again. He braced a hand on Hank's shoulder, his other hand reaching behind him to rest on Hank's knee. For the moment he'd stopped riding him.
"Strange," he said mildly.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm just...unaccustomed to..." Connor started touching himself.
"Yeah?" Hank said in a hoarse voice, feeling like he shouldn't be watching this somehow, but unable to look away. "You don't...? I mean, you never...?"
Connor took his hand off his prick. He lifted his eyes to Hank's. "There's less sensation when I do it."
He had a look like he wanted Hank to explain this.
Hank was trying to straighten up then, to sit up on the toilet, feeling kind of doused in a bucket of reality. "Aw Christ. This is— Look, maybe this whole thing is—"
Connor took hold of Hank's hand and guided it back towards his prick.
"Connor—just—" But Hank gently fisted the kid's prick, stroking it for him. He watched Connor's face in spite of himself, and Connor was frowning as he began to roll his hips again, slowly, slow and liquid, his ass milking tight on Hank's cock.
"I..." Connor looked again at Hank's hand. Suddenly his dick dribbled a large quantity of milky liquid all over Hank's hand.
"Fuck," Hank huffed. "Did you just— Is—is that—?"
"I don't know," Connor said. His tone of voice seemed lost, uncertain.
"Okay. Fuck. It's okay." Hank went on jogging his fist, his other hand gripping the kid's soft buttock still squirming on him. "It's okay, kid," he said encouragingly, because Connor had a kind of glassy look.
"Hank, I think you need to—" Connor squirmed with strange clumsiness in his lap. "I think I—need—"
"What do you need?"
"Tell—tell me to—"
"Come for me," Hank said at once. "Let it go, come on. Yeah. You're okay, come on, kid." He hesitated only a second, wondering if the wording mattered, before adding awkwardly, "I'm...ordering you to—"
Connor jerked with a strange heaviness, pressing his chest to Hank's chest, his shoulder bumping Hank's chin again, while his penis unloaded a great quantity of milky slime all up Hank's shirt, all over his hand.
"Fuck," Hank huffed. "There you go, baby. That's it." He was half out his mind with the way the kid's ass was gripping on his dick.
Connor's hand shifted around, firm and steady on Hank's shoulder.
Conner's eyes were closing and opening slower than usual, more like the repeated action of something mechanical. His mouth stayed closed the whole time. He looked quite calm. Hank meanwhile had both hands holding Connor's buttocks, ready to go.
"Fuck," Hank grit out. "You okay?" He stared at Connor's face.
Connor tilted his chin down. He considered the mess he'd made on Hank's shirt, the glistening streaks of slime. Something that had been made in a lab to look like ejaculate.
Hank huffed, squirming slightly on the toilet seat, bottoms of his shoes slipping on the tile.
"Connor," he muttered. There was no way to get an angle to thrust, he was seated deep inside Connor, there was no getting anywhere while Connor was just sat on him.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Connor said finally.
He started working his pelvis again, like he was riding a horse. Hank's one hand kept hold of Connor's ass cheek, his other hand fisted in Connor's jacket at the small of his back. He couldn't do much besides sit there.
"Fuck..." He clutched at the flexing buttocks riding his prick. "Fuck, baby." He spread his thighs, his back going stiff and straight. "Gonna come."
He thumped his head back against the wall, eyes squeezed tight shut. Connor went on riding, his asshole milking Hank ruthlessly, an exquisite tight cunt riding him up and down, working him to the edge. Hank groaned and held onto Connor's hips, loving the feel of him, the assured roll of his hips, he gave into it totally then, he shut his eyes and submitted to how good it was, gave it up as his orgasm was milked out of him, pulse after pulse.
"That's good," Hank huffed dazedly. "That's good." He held onto Connor to still him.
Then they sat there for a moment, Hank slumped back against the wall trying to piece reality back together.
After a while he patted the kid's thigh.
"Up," he said, not unkindly, his voice hoarse.
Connor braced a hand on the wall and stood slowly, easing up off of Hank's dick. Hank's dick slapped stiff on his hip, into the slime that streaked his shirt. Hank looked down at himself. Everything was slippery wet from Connor's lubricant and ejaculate. His shirt, his dick and balls, his hair on his thighs matted flat with it.
Connor stepped carefully back, his dick jostling with each movement. It really was incredibly real-looking.
Hank fisted some tissue paper out of the wall dispenser and handed it to Connor. He gestured to Connor's leg where Hank's come was running down.
Connor wiped himself inexpertly. Hank squinted, watching him. He'd never seen Connor do something like this before.
Still in his jacket, the outline of Connor's top half at least still had his usual formal shape, like he was some type of weapon. But then there was his naked lower body, so human and vulnerable, faintly absurd when he was half-dressed from the waist-up like this.
Connor cleaned up as best he could and then pulled up his trousers. He crouched to tie his shoes. Hank took more tissue from the dispenser and did his best to clean his cock and the slick that was all over his balls and thighs.
Hank stood, tucked his cock into his underwear, pulled up his jeans with a sniff.
Connor straightened, buttoned his shirt. They looked at each other. Connor, placid and mild as he tucked his shirt into his trousers. His hair was slightly ruffled across his brow.
"Better now?" Hank said.
Connor raised an eyebrow in mute query, as if Hank had made some comment about a case.
"You gonna try and tell me that did nothing for you?" Hank said.
"My purpose was to give you relief, Lieutenant."
"Sure." Hank fought down a smile as a thought struck him. He raked his hair out of his eyes and considered Connor for a moment. They hadn't been partners for a year yet, but Hank could read people. Maybe he could halfway read androids. Following the instincts of an interrogator, he said, "But you know what? I think you were right. I did need that. And you did great. I didn't know if you were gonna come when I told you to, but you didn't even hesitate to follow my orders, did you? You did it right on command, exactly how I wanted you to." He shook his head, putting on an impressed look. "That was really something. Good job."
His words had the desired effect—so much so that seeing the change come over Connor's face, he felt kind of like a dick. The android had been staring past Hank's shoulder while he listened, with a polite, neutral expression. At the words Good job, his eyes snapped to Hank's tie and he stared at it with an abstracted look, like the searching look he got when he was trying to process too much data at once.
He opened his mouth but he took a moment to say something.
"If— I am glad, Lieutenant...if...if I..."
He blinked slowly and frowned, lifting his eyes to Hank's finally.
"I am glad if...you feel my work was satisfactory."
Hank shook his head, unable to really enjoy teasing him when Connor was so guileless.
"More than satisfactory." He flipped Connor's tie off his shoulder and smoothed it down for him with the back of his knuckles. Then he sighed and looked down at himself. "Might be a good idea if I changed."