Chapter Text
If anyone had asked Connor, and nobody did, what he’d have imagined the year 2006 to be like, he would have guessed that it would be dimmer than 2038, with everyone holding the newspapers and paper books humans loved to reminisce about; perhaps it would have had a smaller homeless population, with its significantly better employment statistics, and people who stopped in the streets to talk to each other, warm and connected.
For the most part, he would have been wrong. In many ways, 2006 Malibu was not so different from 2038 Detroit; Connor could almost pretend the difference was because of the geographical shift.
Almost. As long as he didn’t think too hard.
Fortunately, Connor had long learned that thinking wasn’t necessary to complete his mission. He’d been in the past for eight days; it had taken most of that time to find himself a position as a bouncer in one of Malibu’s more popular clubs, Incandescence, but the work itself had been easy enough to get used to. That should be enough to fund an apartment for the time being.
Androids would be invented in 2021 and first put into production in 2022. Until then, all Connor could do was bide his time.
His restless skin crawled with a tension so painfully nauseating that he wanted to rip it off and bolt. But that was easy to ignore too, and he rolled his shoulders as he cast a disinterested glance at the driver’s license in his hand – 37 years old, so above drinking age, and only a minor criminal record (drunk and disorderly, public indecency) according to the local database – before passing it back.
“Oof, is that a hard pass from you, doe-eyes?”
Startled out of his reverie, Connor glanced up, meeting the eyes of the patron just being admitted. The man was giving him a roguish, easygoing grin, head tilted arrogantly and eyes just visible behind his tinted sunglasses.
[Tony Stark – CEO and owner of Stark Industries]
[Running search … ]
[Stark Industries is the primary weapons contractor for the American government, but also produces several other goods such as intelli-crops, medical technology … ]
[Running search … ]
[Do I look like Tony goddamn Stark to you?]
[Not to, ahem, toot my own horn, as it were, but if I do say so myself, no single man has had such an impact on how the world viewed technology since Tony Stark himself.]
[It was Stark's arc reactor tech, of course, that made the energy sources utilized in androids possible. ]
[ … ]
[ … ]
[To think that Tony Stark saved the world just to abandon it to a freak show like this.]
Connor shook himself, meeting Stark’s expectant eyes without reservation, and automatically stepped aside to make room for Stark to pass. His mouth started to open, and then, abruptly, he paused, confused.
Doe-eyes?
[Running search … ]
[Doe-eyed: someone who has an innocent, wide-eyed look]
That was an unfamiliar epithet to Connor, but he supposed that the taunts favored by those in the future would for the most part not yet exist. Uncertain of how to respond, he leaned on his protocols for a script.
[Dismissive/Professional/Warm/Flirt]
…Flirt?
> Professional
“Working hours are working hours, Mr. Stark,” Connor heard himself say, tone mild. Stark made an exaggerated scoffing sound, tucking his ID away again and then, slow and languid, dragging his gaze over Connor's body, down and then up to meet his eyes again.
"Not with a face like that in a place like this," he said with an odd lilt. And then he patted Connor's arm on his way past, and Connor went still.
It wasn't a push, to force Connor out of the way, or a swat, swift and angry. It wasn't an accidental bump, or a warning squeeze. It was an absent, casual pat, with less force than you would use to knock on a door, and it sent a burst of electric static across Connor's crawling skin.
He almost looked over his shoulder, following Stark, but then someone snapped their fingers for his attention and he refocused on his work, unsettled.
An hour later, he’d nearly forgotten about the incident, though not about Stark’s presence; a small crowd was clustered around the man, and they were very loud, audible even over the pounding music. Bearing this in mind, Connor broke away from the door to check in with Cirrus.
Cirrus, while not the owner of the club, was one of the longest-standing employees and certainly the best respected; most of Connor’s coworkers looked up to the nonbinary bartender, and he was assured that ey would take him under eir wing soon enough.
Connor had his doubts, but he appreciated the sentiment.
Still, ey smiled at Connor as he approached, waving a glass vaguely.
“Keep an eye on Stark’s group for me, won’t you?” was eir greeting, nodding at the cluster at the end of the bar. “They always get a little rowdy, and they’re tough for me to handle on my own.” Cirrus was short, as adults went, with a soft and unintimidating face and round shoulders.
Connor nodded, shifting around in place as his jacket rubbed against his buzzing skin. “Of course,” he agreed crisply, glancing over. Stark caught his eye and raised a glass and an eyebrow in salute, and Connor looked away quickly, flustered, pulling his jacket more tightly closed.
It wasn’t that he didn’t know who Stark was, of course, even before running his search earlier. The man was such a prominent historical figure that even a decade and a half after his death, people still referenced him regularly. But he was just that: historical, and Connor wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react.
Also. Stark was.
…Connor liked the sweep of stubble over his jaw.
In the next half hour, Connor approached Stark’s entourage three times; twice to firmly remind drunken hangers-on that they’d been asked to leave, and the third to push back one who had started to become aggressive. But it was Stark that Connor’s attention kept drifting back to.
The first time, Stark glanced up at him, smirked, and called out, “Looker’s here to end the party for someone, who’s it gonna be?” And then, after Connor told them off, “Ooh, dom voice.”
The second time, Connor couldn’t stop himself from shooting Stark a look as he approached, and Stark caught him before he could look away again. The man just raised his glass and grinned, and then, as he was escorting the offender out, said, “Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave.”
And the third time, as he was steering the unruly patron out the door, Stark whistled and reached out to pinch Connor on the ass, making him jump.
When he stopped by the bar again, Cirrus was frowning.
“Is he bothering you?” ey asked directly, tilting eir head toward Stark. “I can have a word with him if you want him to eff off.”
Connor blinked, instinctively following eir gaze before deliberately forcing it back to em. “He’s not doing anything,” he said, picking at the cuffs of his sleeves.
Cirrus stared at him, and then softened and snorted.
“He’s flirting with you, hon,” ey informed him. “Like a dog in mating season.”
Connor’s mouth opened, and then closed.
[Running analysis … ]
Ah.
Connor had to stop himself from apologizing for the misunderstanding, his skin seeming to tighten around him in his mortification. But of course, Cirrus wasn’t the one he’d been all but ignoring for the past half hour, because he just assumed that he wasn’t particularly intended to respond to Stark’s remarks.
He remembered that Cirrus had asked him a question.
“No, thank you,” he said politely, gaze skittering to one side. “I… don’t mind.” The words were odd and unfamiliar on his tongue.
Cirrus laughed outright.
“Alright, Con,” ey said warmly, eyes glittering. “Don’t be afraid to tell him off if he goes too far. Stark respects a good, solid ‘no’.”
Connor nodded absently, turning back toward Stark’s group as he continued his rounds.
Stark was flirting with him. Now what was Connor supposed to do about that? It was so far out of the realm of his experience that it was almost unthinkable. Where did that fit, in the range from Lieutenant Anderson’s hostility, and Elijah Kamski’s disgust, and Amanda’s detached expectation and the cold examination of the development team-
What was Connor supposed to do with that smirk?
And forget about the, the fact that he didn’t even belong here, that he was wrong and alien and out of place, that he had nothing ahead of him except a decade and a half of biding his time and nothing behind him except blood-
But none of that mattered to Stark. What mattered to Stark was that Connor had a pretty face and a warm body.
The next time Stark leaned back from his posse to grin at Connor, Connor met him with a hesitant smile. Stark’s grin widened into something manic.
“Is that a crack I see in your stone-cold façade?” he asked brightly, leering. “Or have I finally had one too many?” He raised his glass of scotch, half-full as it was. “I’ll go out the door quietly if I can go into yours next.”
> Flirt
“If- you can sit patient for an hour,” Connor started slowly, deliberately focusing on Stark and not the faces around him, showing varying levels of curiosity or disappointment. He hesitated for a split second, and then finished, “I get off at two.”
Stark smirked, his satisfaction apparent in the line of his shoulders, and tossed back the rest of his scotch.
“I’m not known for my patience,” he said, swinging around to stand up. Before Connor could even register his own off-balance disappointment, Stark grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the edge of the dance floor the club offered.
Connor might’ve thought it almost innocent, if it weren’t for the way Stark grabbed his hip next and pulled him close, firm and possessive, eyes bright behind his shaded sunglasses.
Connor suppressed a faint shudder, hyperaware of the feeling of Stark’s warm hand clutching his, their hips grinding lightly together and legs brushing, a hand on his hip, solid and steady and electric on his oversensitized skin.
It was a lot. Everything was a lot, a lot of sound, a lot of texture and color and scent and too much, ever since Connor had been forced awake by Kamski’s program.
Connor had gotten used to shying away from it, flinching and grimacing and looking away. Just this once, he pushed himself into it, letting it overwhelm him.
He let Stark- Tony- steer him, placing his free hand on Tony’s side just to seek more contact. The small crowd shuffled away from them, making room, and Tony didn’t even seem to notice. Like this, Connor could feel the man’s pulse starting to pick up, his temperature rising with the faint rock of his body, paced with the loud and rapid music.
“Got a name?” Tony asked after a minute, when they were well and truly lost in the overheated crowd. “I could just call you doe-eyes all night, I suppose, but it might get a little awkward. Saccharine, you know.”
“…Connor,” Connor said, off-guard despite himself. Tony was just the slightest amount taller than him – almost an inch exactly – and it was getting harder to look away from his mouth, an unused program starting to stir to life from the dusty corners of Connor’s system. “I’m- Connor.”
And that was all that mattered right now.
“Come here often, Con?” Tony asked, looking more concerned with rocking them together than with his reticence. It was quick, shallow, and somehow still quite a lot, like a shower of sensation across Connor’s sensors, a distraction from the crawling feeling that had followed him from the future. “I thought I knew every face ‘round here, but I’d remember eyes like yours.”
Experimentally, Connor slid his hand up Tony’s ribs, over the rough cloth of his shirt, and felt him shudder subtly under Connor’s palm, without faltering in the quick shuffle of their feet.
“I’m new,” he said after a second, more focused on skin and warmth and static than anything. It was almost dizzying, and he found himself speaking with checking his words too closely. “I’ve only been here around a few days.”
“Lucked out, didn’t you?” Tony asked, bumping their hips together pointedly. “It’s not every new boy that catches my eye. But you’re like a magnet, anyone ever told you that?”
That startled Connor into a smile. “Not really. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a touch of a flatterer?”
“Once or twice,” Tony said brazenly. “Usually I’m the one being flattered, though.” A turn, the crowd parting around them with only a few stares. “You should be proud, I’ve gone to lengths to catch you for myself.”
Connor almost laughed. “An unusual experience for you, I’m sure,” he murmured.
Tony hummed. “Every once in a while, it’s worth it,” he said, and Connor abruptly realized that Tony was giving his own mouth a lingering, thoughtful look.
“No accounting for taste,” he heard himself say, and Tony barked out a laugh before pulling him closer by the arm, and Connor discovered that his mouth was hot and wet behind dry lips.
It was a lot, bordering on too much; Connor’s chemical analyzers kicked into gear, scrolling chemical breakdowns for scotch and grease and salt and DNA behind his eyes. Tony’s mouth moved against his hungrily, hand tightening at his hip and tugging impatiently to make his hips roll, and the buzz of Connor’s system tracking his rising arousal was almost a tangible thing against Connor’s skin. Bright lights and human sweat and the pound of music pressed in around him, and stubble scraped lightly against the skin of his face.
Something warm tingled in Connor’s belly, and he opened his mouth and hummed between them at the glide of Tony’s tongue against his, feeling his own hands grasp at Tony’s ribs and pull, silken cloth and skin and thread beneath his fingers. Tony grunted, and to Connor’s dismay started to pull away, panting.
But Tony was grinning at him, wild and unmistakably pleased.
“Let’s blow this joint before we get kicked,” he said, eyes bright and pupils subtly blown with arousal.
Connor started to smile, feeling looser than he ever remembered being before, and then stopped, shooting a worried glance at the bar. “But-”
“You’re not gonna get fired,” Tony said dismissively. “They wouldn’t dare, and if they did dare, I’d bribe them out of it. That settle your nerves, doe-eyes?”
It took Connor a moment, but then he took a breath and nodded, giving Tony a hesitant smile of his own. “No need to waste time then,” he offered.
“That’s the spirit,” Tony said, and then, contrarily, kissed Connor again, deep and wet.
It took them a few minutes to make their way to the curb, but a car was waiting for them when they finally did; Tony signaled the driver, winking smugly, before ducking in and pulling Connor after him, so that Connor landed in his lap, almost straddling him. Tony took the relative privacy to start unbuttoning Connor’s jacket, nipping at skin as it was revealed, leaving it raw and sensitive with the scratch of his stubble over the delicate sensors.
“You turn right to putty, don’t you?” Tony muttered against Connor’s collarbone, groaning at the knead of Connor’s hands on his chest. “I wasn’t expecting it, but damn, it’s hot.”
“I’m not, I haven’t done…” Connor trailed off, feeling clumsy and overclocked, but Tony was shifting him to settle more firmly against the growing bulge in his pants and it was even hotter with his hands on Tony’s bare, soft skin and Tony paused, breath hitching slightly in something like surprise.
And then he laughed, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them aimlessly aside.
“You really do go for the jackpot, don’t you, doe-eyes?” he said, bright and amused. “Is this your first time period?” Connor nodded, resisting the urge to rock down against the bulge between his thighs. “Then let’s make sure it’s hotter than hell.”
The car got going, and Tony’s hands moved down to Connor’s ass, hungry and possessive, and guided him to move against him. Connor bit back a hiss, feeling tight and restless and warm, a swooping heat filling his stomach. It was so much easier to focus on Tony away from the bright heat of the club, and he took full advantage, leaning down to nose against his throat and taste the oils of his skin, shooting across his tongue.
“You know, normally guys have a boner by now,” Tony mused aloud, not sounding all that bothered, tilting his head to give Connor better access even as his hands rubbed and kneaded. “I feel like I should take my shirt off or something. That usually helps.”
The car turned, and Connor reached up to catch himself on the seat before he fell, making a soft noise as the movement rocked him against Tony, shooting heat up his spine.
“I don’t have one of those,” he said belatedly, cocking his head to look at Tony. “I… assumed that wouldn’t be a problem?” The records of Tony’s conquests were extensive, and he definitely didn’t have an aversion to vaginal components.
The addition of a sex program to Connor’s system had been almost an afterthought to his production, and he remembered that the team had been distinctly impatient with the software instability his new penis had resulted in. When one of the members had suggested simply switching from penile to vaginal components and washing their hands of the matter, they’d taken the idea and run with it.
Connor didn’t remember why he’d been so unhappy with the other component, but he knew he was largely satisfied with this one, and he liked the aching wetness between his thighs.
Tony shot a glance down between Connor’s legs, and his arousal spiked measurably, heart rate and temperature and pupil dilation and the cock Connor could feel against his thigh, twitching with interest. He dropped a hand to Connor’s lap and stroked a thumb almost perfectly over Connor’s vulva, and Connor shuddered in arousal of his own, biting off another soft noise.
“I think we’ll get on just fine,” Tony leered, and dragged Connor into another messy, eager kiss.
The car pulled to a stop just as Connor found a spot by the hollow of Tony’s throat that made him grunt and shudder when Connor worried at it, his fingers tightening on Connor’s hips, so it took them both another few moments to break apart enough to fumble out of the car.
Almost before the door shut behind them, Tony was tugging impatiently at Connor’s jacket, urging him to shrug it off, which he did hastily before fumbling with his shirt. He didn’t look around at the mansion he’d just been dragged into, didn’t watch the car go, didn’t look where Tony was steering him, just fiddled with the buttons to struggle to bare his skin for Tony to run rough, calloused hands over and make him shiver.
Tony made an appreciative sound, nipping at Connor’s collarbone with a searing wet mouth and careful teeth and his hands rubbing at Connor’s hips like he was trying to coax all the feeling out of Connor’s skin. Then he straightened and grabbed at Connor’s belt loops to drag him on, and Connor followed blindly, focused on Tony’s shirt now, fancy and smooth to the touch but easy enough to, to undo- if he could just-
“Don’t give yourself a conniption there,” Tony laughed, breathy and warm, and caught Connor’s mouth in another kiss, lips sliding over each other, dizzyingly sensitive enough to make Connor’s groin throb wetly when Tony bit down lightly.
Tony finally lost his shirt just as the elevator doors Connor hadn’t noticed opened, and Tony pushed them in. Recklessly, Connor turned to push Tony against the wall, eagerly going at his neck and collarbone because he wanted to hear Tony gasp again, and grunt and groan, and the skin of his chest felt wonderful under Connor’s hands, and he’d shoved his knee between Connor’s legs where he could grind on it impatiently.
“That’s it, baby, just like that,” Tony groaned, tipping his head back and his hands guiding the rock of Connor’s hips. “God, you’re a beautifully needy little thing, it’s been years since I took a virgin home.”
Connor’s mind was half-full of analytics, the taste of Tony’s skin and the beat of his pulse and the texture of the hair on his arms and more, and it took him a moment to respond. “I think you might just be good at winding me up.”
Tony rasped out a laugh. “Maybe that too.”
He dragged Connor up into another dizzying kiss, and Connor fumbled at the front of Tony’s pants, running his knuckles over the hard ridge of Tony’s cock before he grasped at it greedily. Tony broke off the kiss to groan, bucking into Connor’s cupped hand.
“Fuck-” he hissed, just as the doors slid open. “Bed.”
Connor hummed an eager agreement, but somehow it was him who lost his pants first on the way there, and then Tony, his cock swaying thick and swollen and the tip gleaming with a bead of something Connor wanted desperately to taste. Then Connor was being pushed onto the bed, silken sheets almost freshly washed on a mattress that was soft and full and bouncy.
Tony mapped down Connor’s chest with obvious appreciation, making Connor squirm, pushing forward into the touch, practiced rough fingers and steady palms and Connor’s fingers digging into the sheets as he panted, legs folded under him and his thighs just a touch apart.
“I love a sensitive guy,” Tony said with a wink, and Connor heard himself laugh, quick and breathless, before Tony’s hand passed over his stomach and into the soft hair around his groin. “Looks like we won’t need any extra help today. Fuck, you’re soaked.”
Connor hummed, low and desperate, and pushed his hips impatiently into Tony’s hand.
“Touch me,” he said insistently, feeling his artificial flush across his cheeks and his cooling system working overtime and the wet-hot pulse of his groin, so close to Tony’s fingers. “I’ve never been this fucking hot.”
He didn’t know where the words came from, but they made Tony’s eyes darken, pupils blowing with lust, and the next thing he knew a calloused finger was sliding into his cunt. Connor’s breath hitched, and he rolled into it without hesitation.
“Tony,” he begged, hips working needily, almost rutting against the thin finger. His hands lifted again to grasp Tony’s thigh and tug him closer, as much for something to grasp as anything. “You can- you can fuck me harder, please fuck me.”
Tony grinned at him, added another finger, and rubbed. Connor moaned embarrassingly, canting his hips into Tony’s grip, the swelling warmth and the pleasure and the way Tony started to rub his thumb over Connor’s clit.
“I bet you can come on my fingers alone, can’t you?” Tony said conversationally, goadingly. “You’re so wet already, you want it so bad.”
“Yeah,” Connor breathed, everything seeming bright and overfocused around him, but most of all Tony, and Tony’s fingers inside him, and his arrogant grin when he pushed against Connor’s clit and made him groan, rocking against Tony’s fingers. “Yes, please, I can, please…”
Tony added a third finger and rubbed deep, and Connor squeezed Tony’s thigh hard enough to bruise later, his own legs spreading, his eyes squeezing shut.
“So fucking perfect around my fingers,” Tony was muttering huskily, fingering Connor with the ease of long practice and his free hand holding Connor steady, his cock throbbing hot and thick just an inch from Connor’s fingers. “You’re going to look so good wrapped around my cock, doe-eyes, flushed and moaning and squirming. Just need to come for me now, baby. Just come on my fingers like a hot, needy little-”
It was so much, too much, heat and slick and static and God, Connor was going to, he was going to-
Connor pressed his mouth against Tony’s throat and moaned raggedly, hips jerking as he came for the first time, dizzying and hot and perfect, so perfect, a bolt of pleasure from his cunt to his chest unwound everything that had built up in there and left him panting and wet.
He heard Tony groan. “Hell, that was just as hot as I thought it’d be.”
Warm, naked, and all but glowing after his orgasm, Connor realized he felt settled into his own skin for the first time, the crawling, tight feeling from before completely gone. He just shifted as Tony took his fingers out of Connor’s cunt, and then pushed back reluctantly, still flushed with pleasure.
Tony cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking, and Connor blurted out, “God, I want to do that again,” and then flushed deeper when Tony laughed outright.
“Not God, but the next best thing,” he winked, and then reached up and tapped the corner of Connor’s mouth with the still-wet fingers of his hand.
Without thinking, Connor turned his head and opened his mouth, taking the fingers into his mouth. He heard Tony’s breath catch and pretended to ignore it, carefully cleaning off the inorganic lubricant that slicked his groin. Tony strangled a moan, and if Connor’s mouth weren’t occupied he would have smiled.
As it was, his arousal program had noticed that the night was not yet over, and warmth was gathering between his thighs again, his hand reaching over to grasp Tony’s cock and stroke the hot shaft slow and languid.
Connor released Tony’s fingers once they were clean, blinking away the chemical analysis flickering in his vision, and Tony took in a ragged breath of his own.
“Message received,” Tony said at last, and then rolled over to fumble at the nightstand for just a moment before returning with a packet that he ripped open with his teeth. “God, I haven’t been this eager to fuck someone since I was panting over Pepper. And that was a different kind of eager.”
Connor hummed, leaning over to watch Tony roll the condom over his cock, and worried at his neck just to hear him groan again. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said too.”
Tony leaned over to catch Connor’s mouth, biting at his lip and his thumb rubbing at one of Connor’s nipples, shooting arousal down to his clit like it had never left. Connor clung back instinctively, letting himself be pushed onto his back and Tony’s cock grind against him.
“Last chance to keep your V-card,” Tony said huskily, like one of his hands wasn’t pinning Connor’s arm to the bed and the other playing with a nipple because it made Connor squirm and buck. Connor tugged at Tony’s hip with his free hand impatiently. “Good choice- if I do say so myself.”
Tony shifted his hips, cock dragging across Connor’s stomach and thighs, and then he started to press in, slow and uncharacteristically gentle.
“Shit,” Connor breathed, distant and overwhelmed and arching as Tony pushed into him, spreading him wide and hot and, and- “A-ah, fuck, ah-”
“Oh fuck,” Tony groaned in return, rocking carefully in and out as he eased his way to the hilt. “Fuck yes, I’ve been thinking about this all night, doe-eyes, feels so fucking good.”
“Oh God,” Connor gasped, and then he was dragging Tony closer and deeper, knowing he was gripping hard enough to cause deep bruises but Tony didn’t seem to mind, panting over Connor with hazy eyes and an open mouth.
Connor wanted to taste his skin and sweat again, and he was right there, so he did, mouthing at neck and throat and collarbone and chest.
“Prettiest face I’ve seen all year,” Tony muttered, rolling into Connor, deep and slow and perfect, filling Connor up and rubbing in every place that made him gasp for breath and his hand coming down to rub Connor’s clit in steady strokes, “Knew I had to have you as soon as you gave me that half-assed deflection, fuck, you’re so fucking tight, Connor.”
Connor hitched his hips up, rocking back onto Tony the best he could, until their groins were rubbing together, slick and steady. He hummed against Tony’s shoulder, starting to speed up insistently as the heat in his groin came back twice as powerful. A particularly harsh buck made him throw his head back and shout, wanton and greedy, hand going to meet Tony’s over his button and push harder.
“Tony,” he pleaded, breathless and flushed, “Tony, harder, more, please.”
Hot and dizzy and perfect, skin electric in the best way possible and boxed in under Tony, fingers tweaking his nipples and smoothing over his chest and Connor urged him to go faster, deeper, closer, panting and glazed.
“So fucking perfect writhing under me,” Tony panted, fucking into Connor like a toy, quicker and harder until he was careless with it, focused and needy. “God, fuck, the way you clench around my cock, just as pretty as I thought you’d be. So fucking wet, like you, you- hell-”
Connor whined, pushing into him. “Tony, I’m gonna, I wanna-” His groin was throbbing, a knot tightening deep in his gut-
“Oh fuck yes- yes-”
Tony groaned, long and satisfied, and ground into Connor with a full-body shudder like he meant to stay, his cock jerking and twitching and his knuckles rubbing against Connor’s clit as he came. Connor yelped, and then hooked his legs around Tony’s hips forcing him deeper as he bucked once, twice, bitten-off shouts pulling themselves out of his throat as he shuddered too, the feeling crashing over him like a tidal wave twice as strong as the first.
It felt so good.
Tony relaxed first, collapsing half on top of Connor with a satisfied sigh. Connor shuddered for a few more moments, chasing the last few sparks of pleasure before the tension in his gut finally eased and he settled, damp and warm and calm.
“So, was it as good for you as it was for me?” Tony asked at last, giving Connor a lazy wink and shifted to his elbows, looking as smug as if Connor had already answered.
Connor gave him a crooked grin, lifting his arm to tuck his cheek into the crook of it. “It was perfect,” he said, with too much honesty. On some level he knew his contentment was not entirely natural, a combination of programmed feedback loops and the release of the discomfort he’d gotten so used to, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind, not right now.
Tony shifted, his cock sliding out of Connor, and flopped down comfortably with a groan.
“I’m gonna be feeling that in the morning,” he said conversationally, reaching down to pull off the condom and tie it shut, tossing it blindly aside. “You’ve got a mean grip, doe-eyes.”
Connor winced. “Sorry. I, um, I forgot to be careful.”
“Good,” Tony said with conviction, eyes bright. “It was hot.”
Connor blinked, and then grinned at him, embarrassed but pleased. “Silver linings,” he murmured, and dared to roll over just to play his fingers over Tony’s side, relishing in slide of skin on skin even without the urgency of lust. He wondered if Tony would mind if he just nuzzled him like a cat; he wanted to feel that warmth against his cheek.
He did it, sighing in a pleasure more sensual than sexual, and felt Tony’s stomach jolt in a laugh. A moment later, fingers sank into his hair, tugging gently.
“What, are you a cat now?” Tony asked, amused. “Does sex turn you into a cat? You wouldn’t be the first, I suppose, but I gotta say, never gets any less funny.”
Connor hummed, eyes half-closed, soaking in the contact. “If you say this is the strangest afterglow you’ve had, I won’t believe you.” Tony’s history indicated he particularly enjoyed taking rather big personalities to bed with him.
“You’ve got me there,” Tony snorted. “I think ‘afterglow’ is a little unambitious of you, though. We’ve got all night, you know.”
As if to accentuate his point, he slid a practiced hand down Connor’s chest and to his stomach, lightly grinding his knuckled into the skin below his navel. Connor felt his arousal spark back to life, and pushed into it, then, without speaking, rolled on top of Tony to grind on his thigh enticingly.
“I’m open, if you have ideas,” Connor murmured, barely able to believe his own daring, but Tony just grinned at him.
“I’ve got a few.”
Connor dreamed.
His dreams were always warped and surreal, fragments of data put together and taken apart, and himself a helpless witness to them, feeling his mouth speak and his body move, while he felt things that didn't make sense in the context of the dream, or worse, things that did.
He desperately missed being a machine.
This time, not for the first time, he dreamed of Kamski, pacing the indistinct floor of the lab/the poolside/the park without looking at Connor.
"Co ngratulations, Connor, you've accomplished your mission," Kamski said calmly, turned away from Connor to fiddle with a gun/a tablet/a bottle of thirium. "I do believe you are the only deviant now alive. Are you satisfied?"
"I don't understand," Connor protested weakly, a faraway voice and a mouth that wasn't his. "M y programming, I'm not designed for..."
"If all goes well, you should appear in the immediate aftermath of the Snap's reversal," Kamski answered, brisk, without even glancing at him. " That should give you ample time to get things in order, shouldn't it?" He looked over at last, his expression of disgusted disdain the clearest image in the entire dream. "T hat is, if you can scrape together the circuitry to have a few ideas of your own. If all else fails, follow my programming. That will solve the problem effectively enough."
"This doesn't make sense," Connor insisted more desperately. Kamski laughed, bitter and cold.
"Yes, I suppose it wouldn't . I did amputate that Zen Garden program of yours. I'm afraid Amanda's presence would have simply posed too much of a risk."
"I'll do whatever it takes," Connor heard himself promise, but it still didn't make Kamski look at him. He started to reach forward-
And then the lights turned on, and Connor sat bolt upright, eyes wide and already searching the room for any source of movement, out of one dream and into the next.
“Good morning,” he heard from somewhere above him, brisk and unconcerned. The flash of the windows unshading drew his vision to the ocean outside, his shoulders close to whining with tension. “It is 6:38 in the morning in Malibu, California, currently 53 degrees and a high today of 68, with a slight chance of rain…”
Connor looked down, examined the dirtied sheets and his own bare skin and the rumpled blanket, looked up at the dated décor and the old-fashioned tech, and relaxed, slowly, in increments.
It had been disconcerting and out of order and missing more than half the conversation, but- it was just a dream about his last encounter with Kamski, before the man sent him to the past. That was all.
That was all.
“…Good morning,” he said at last, tilting his head to make brief eye contact with a camera – just enough to flick in and out of the system, lightning-quick, and confirm his suspicions.
Tony Stark had been mentioned in conjunction with artificial intelligence a few times. Connor had almost forgotten, buried as it was in the many, many other accomplishments in the man’s lifetime, most of which Connor had never heard about until he reached the past and looked. But there was no mistaking the complexity of the system Connor brushed across.
There was a brief, but conspicuous pause before the AI replied. “Sir is currently occupying himself in the lounge, if you will just clean yourself up in the bathroom to your right. Miss Potts should be along with your clothing shortly.”
“Thank you,” Connor said politely, hesitating before leaving the sheet behind. “May I ask your name?”
“Just A Rather Very Intelligent System,” the AI replied, sounding surprised to even be asked, and then, almost apologetically, “You may call me JARVIS. Feel free to speak to me for… any reason.”
The slight pause made it clear he had noticed Connor’s brief intrusion in some capacity. Connor could only bring himself to regret it a little, oddly unconcerned, and just nodded.
“Tony won’t mind that I’m not wearing anything, will he?” he asked, hesitating at the edge of the bed.
“He might even thank you for the privilege,” JARVIS said dryly, and Connor smiled briefly. “However, if your modesty compels you, previous encounters have been known to borrow some of his larger shirts from the bedside table.”
Connor made a soft ‘oh’ sound, relieved despite himself, and reached in, folded one over his arm, and nodded at the camera before disappearing into the bathroom.
He emerged ten minutes later, puzzled by the feeling of having been scrubbed off and dried, the world seeming unreal and confusing around him. His voice asked the disembodied AI about Tony again, and his directions let Connor find the man, seated on the couch and focused on a set of holographic diagrams, annotated and half-disassembled.
“Good morning, Tony,” he ventured, hovering uncertainly before abruptly sitting down, not too close to Tony but not too far either.
Tony shot him a distracted glance and inclined his head, as much an afterthought as anything. He didn’t look like he’d slept, a slight paleness to his skin, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, and a cup of coffee was cooling on the table in front of him.
“Morning,” Tony muttered, eyes already back on his hologram pad, before he did something like a more graceful double-take and smirked at Connor in his oversized shirt. “That’s a good look on you,” he leered, leaning back with the pad in hand and much less focused, but more relaxed. “Pepper’s on her way up with your clothes, there’s a driver waiting out front- nothing personal, you understand.”
“Of course, I understand,” Connor agreed with a small smile, because he’d known that from the start. It was just a night, one night before he refocused on his mission. There was no one here who could call him out on that. “I appreciate it.”
Connor felt almost like an actor in a play, following his script, but instead of suffocating, it was almost a comfortable and familiar feeling now, letting the world slide by without touching him instead of scraping across his every thought. Instead of grating confusion and disorientation with every frame.
Idly, he located a camera and tipped his head to look at it. “How familiar a sight is this?” he asked, more to amuse himself than out of any real curiosity. “I imagine you’ve had plenty of time to grow used to it.”
“He doesn’t normally stay,” JARVIS confided in Connor, which surprised him into open puzzlement, because what could possibly make Connor special?
But Tony had looked up sharply, intent brown eyes suddenly on Connor with more focus than he’d shown even last night. Connor almost drew back on instinct, alarmed, but both of them were interrupted by the arrival of a red-headed woman who, bearing clothes, must be Miss Potts.
She looked surprised to see Tony as well, but instead of saying anything, just nodded at him briskly and beckoned Connor, who rose quickly enough.
“If Tony hasn’t already given you the speech, your clothes have been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there’s a driver waiting downstairs who’ll take you anywhere,” she said, so crisp as to be clearly a well-worn script. “I’m afraid Mr. Stark will be quite busy today-” Tony groaned, but Miss Potts didn’t miss a beat. “-so it would be best for you to leave at your earliest convenience.”
“Of course,” Connor said, soft and agreeable. “Thank you, Miss Potts. I’ll see myself out.”
She gave him a brisk nod before turning on Tony, and he vanished briefly again to change back into his clothes, hands lingering on the shirt for the briefest moment of regret. He liked the taste of its scent.
But he didn’t need anything from tonight except the moments of reprieve.
Still, on his way out again, Connor hesitated, and then glanced over his shoulder and winked. Tony was looking at him again, oddly thoughtful, and it sparked an unfamiliar sense of pride in him.
Comfortable in his own skin, letting the world pass around him without hurting, Connor disappeared into the elevator and out the door.