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aronnaxs · 6 years

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Stefan x Cole Fic: The Golden Boy

So my issue seems to be falling in total love with rare(r) ships. I needed some more Stefan Bekowsky x Cole Phelps in my life because a) I like to think they are in love and b) no one can convince me that Cole Phelps does not have a praise kink~

Title: The Golden Boy Fandom: LA Noire Ship: Stefan/Cole Rating: Explicit Plot: Cole gets enough praise. Stefan might be jealous of him. But here, in bed, it is a different story. Extract: He runs his hands up Cole’s sides, over his shoulders, tangles his fingers in his hair. Slowly kissing at his ear (Cole allows that at least), he says, “you wanna swap places?”

Cole looks at him like he’s just asked to interrogate a suspect before him. His movements slow, but don’t stop.“C’mon, Cole, I don’t want you doing all the work.”

Cole swallows. “I didn’t think I’d hear you say that.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Also on my AO3

“Attaboy, that’s it, you’re doing so well.”

Cole Phelps, Golden Boy of the LAPD, doesn’t need any more praise. He gets it from the moment he walks into the station, all the way through their cases, hell even strangers on the street know him. “Hey, isn’t that the cop from the papers?” “That’s Phelps, right?” “That’s the guy who busted the jewellery store murder.” Yeah, it is. No one ever sees the detective walking next to him. Is Stefan jealous? Maybe. Enough not to want to risk stroking Cole’s ego by showering him with any more compliments.

But, now, it’s different. They’re not on the streets. Cole is out of his neat suit. His hat is off, hair coming out of its slicked style. His oh so perfect composure is starting to crack. Stefan wonders what those same pedestrians would say if they could see him now - sat on Stefan’s lap, thighs trembling around his hips, riding him with a skill that Stefan would not expect different of.

Fuck, he shouldn’t compliment him anymore. But every time he does, Cole’s mouth slips open a little more, his head goes back, eyes fluttering. He fucking loves it. He should have known that Cole would get off on this, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. “Jesus, Phelps, you feel so good;” Stefan says. “Like you like this. Just like this.”

Cole hums and lets Stefan hold on to his waist, but still can’t quite give up control of the rhythm. He is going slow and deliberate, raising up, down, up, down. Stefan follows along, though he wants nothing more than to fuck up into him. Cole has been distracted all day, quieter, even more somber and serious than usual. Stefan wants to make him forget all that - whatever is going on in his head. But no, Cole always has to be in control. Cole has to know what he is doing and when and how.

He leans down and balances himself over Stefan. He rocks back and the angle must do something for him as he is suddenly biting his lip hard. Stefan cradles his neck and wants to bring him in for a kiss, but he turns away, not allowing himself. Still, Stefan doesn’t give up. He pushes his hips up as Cole goes down. It elicits a small moan. “Good boy,” he murmurs into his ear. “Doing so well. So, so well.”

Cole seems to weaken a little. His arms tremble where he’s holding himself up. For a moment, Stefan thinks he’s going to collapse over him but he regains himself, pulls back. He’s doing a good job of staying distant even while fucking himself on Stefan’s cock. He’s got Stefan thinking like a shit-scared husband - wondering desperately what he’s done wrong to upset him. Who the hell knows with Cole. Something is eating away at him anyway. He’s never going to talk about it. And Stefan isn’t here to be his shrink. But he thought that maybe he could make him feel good tonight, good enough that he could forget it for a while.

He runs his hands up Cole’s sides, over his shoulders, tangles his fingers in his hair. Slowly kissing at his ear (Cole allows that at least), he says, “you wanna swap places?”

Cole looks at him like he’s just asked to interrogate a suspect before him. His movements slow, but don’t stop. “C’mon, Cole, I don’t want you doing all the work.”

Cole swallows. “I didn’t think I’d hear you say that.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Cole pauses, thinks about it, then nods. Stefan flips them before he can change his mind. He loves being on top of Cole, loves how he grips his arms for support, loves how his knees bracket his waist, loves how he looks up at him. He looks so damn nervous and Stefan wants to shake him and say goddammit Cole, you’ve faced worse than this only today, tailing that guy and rushing headlong into traffic. I’m not gonna hurt you. But, instead, he cups his face and presses their mouths together in a kiss that surprises even him. It is deep, passionate, needy, full of something that says how he’s not just fucking him for the hell of it. He has not kissed him quite like that before.

Cole stares up at him as they break apart. His lips are swollen, face flushed. “Bekowsky,” he starts, then gasps as Stefan thrusts forward. His eyes roll shut as he finally takes control of their rhythm. He is faster, harder, than Cole was and it makes him shake.

“That’s it,” Stefan says, drawing his mouth against his cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

Cole is not used to this, but he warms up quickly and lets Stefan give it to him. His legs, still trembling, loop around his. He tilts his head as Stefan moves to kiss each side of his neck, sucking the skin, wanting so bad to make a mark. He is so hot and tight inside, and god fucking dammit, he really is incredible. Stefan takes command of his perfect composure, treats him so well, and can barely stop himself from fucking the sense right out of him. He knows he is good at this. Cole’s increasing moans are proof of that.

And Christ, the way he moans. It is all Stefan can think of now when they are on a case. He knew this would be bad for him. He knew this was a mistake. But screw it, he can’t go back now.

He presses their foreheads together, brushes their lips. Cole leans up for another kiss. He gladly gives him one. “God, you’re fucking amazing, Phelps, you know that?” Cole shivers, so Stefan doesn’t stop. “The Golden Boy, that’s what they call you. I know you like hearing that. Fuck, you feel good. You’re doing so well, so, so well, such a - such a good boy.”

“Oh god,” Cole keens, bright red. His hands claw at Stefan’s back. He loves this so much, maybe this is what he needs. To be told this, to remedy whatever’s going on in his head. Stefan changes his angle a little and manages to get deeper. Cole twists his head into the pillow, knees clamping as he hits his target.

“I could do this forever,” Stefan continues, unable to stop himself. “You’re so incredible. Love having a partner like you, Phelps. You know what you’re doing - can make - can make anyone do anything. And now, fucking look at you.” Cole buries his face in Stefan’s shoulder, breath almost coming in sobs. Stefan is right where he wants him now. See how good I can make you feel, he thinks. “Look at you. The star of the LAPD, the war hero -“

Cole stiffens. Suddenly, his breath stops against Stefan’s neck. Stefan pauses. Cole slowly pulls away and fixes him with that serious look. “Don’t call me that,” he says without wavering.

Shit, so that is what this is about. In an instant, Stefan knows he’s fucked up. He searches for something to say, but comes up with absolutely nothing. He has flicked some switch inside of Cole and those walls are coming up again. He should stop now. He might have done, but...but Cole’s legs are still around his waist, and Christ, he can’t tell what he wants anymore. Maybe he doesn’t know him as well as he thinks.

It is almost embarrassing to keep thrusting inside of him. He turns away from him, leans into the pillow, so he doesn’t have to look at his face. Every time he thinks he is getting closer to Cole, he puts his foot in it again. The balance between them is still so tentative. It’s like he’s the fucking rookie detective and not the other way round, always looking over his shoulder, careful of what he’s saying. Cole has a ticking bomb inside of himself.

He is starting to sigh again. Of course he is. Stefan is going hard, maybe trying to get this over and done with now. Why the hell do they keep doing this? Why the hell does Cole keep letting him take him back to his apartment just to - do this to him? It won’t work. It’ll never work.

But then Cole is reaching up. He cradles Stefan’s head and guides him away from his shoulder. Their lips brush hesitantly. Cole closes his eyes. “Don’t stop talking,” he whispers.

Stefan swallows. “You want me to?”

Cole nods. “Please, Stefan.”

Please, Stefan. A plea, and he’s saying his first name. Two things that hardly ever happen here. It sounds too much like an apology for his sudden coldness, and no, Cole doesn’t need to apologise for that, that’s the last thing he needs to apologise for, and... Jesus, Stefan thinks, he’s got me so good.

He can’t deny him anything. He gently lifts Cole’s arms, loops them about his neck and reaches down to press his knee back further. The angle makes his mouth fall open. They return to where they left off, but no, no, it’s different now. Stefan is going deeper and faster, bouncing Cole’s hips against the bed. Not just that, he is kissing, biting, sucking at his neck and throat, ear, lips, anywhere he can reach, worshipping him, driving him crazy. Let me take your mind off things, Stefan thinks. He really, really has him, hook, line, sinker.

“Christ, Cole,” he breathes. “The things I’d fucking do for you. I’ll do anything. You make me - you make me insane, you know that?”

He doesn’t mean to tell him this, but it’s all coming out now. It’s cutting too close to the deepest truth, and Cole is only making it worse, moaning, beginning to repeat, “Stefan - Stefan -“ He anchors himself, drives so hard into him that the headboard of the bed is starting to smack the wall. It turns Stefan on even more.

“Can’t get - enough of you, Cole. Want you so much. Want you - everywhere. You don’t how much I fucking need you.”

“Yes,” Cole sighs. “Yes - I do, I do know.”

Stefan looks down at him, flushed, hazy-eyed. “You do?”

A small smile that turns Stefan’s heart upside down. “You think I’d let anyone do this?”

“Christ.” Stefan leans in and kisses him again. It is open-mouthed, messy, feverish. Cole bunches his hands in his hair and only pulls away when he gasps for breath. Stefan doesn’t let him get it, assaulting his prostate, making his eyes roll up, making him throw his head back. His legs tighten around his waist and Stefan can feel his orgasm coming from deep inside. He reaches between them and strokes him to his rhythm.

“Ah, Stefan!” he cries. “God, fuck -“

Stefan doesn’t stop. He kisses Cole’s exposed throat all over, scraping his teeth, feeling it flutter frantically. His hips are bucking, moans high, desperate. He is working up, up, up... “That’s it,” Stefan urges. “That’s it, attaboy, you’re so good, come for me. Good - good boy.”

And that is what sends Cole over the edge. He arches and, “Stefan!” He comes unbelievably hard. He screws shut his eyes, grabs Stefan’s shoulder and presses his head back into the pillow. Stefan fucks him through it, trying to make it last as long as he can. He is rewarded by Cole, uninhibited, almost sobbing as the waves hit him.

He can’t take anymore. Cole clamps so tight around him. The world flashes in his eyes and then he is following him right over. He has no words for how fucking good it feels. He rides it out in short thrusts, burying his cries in Cole’s shoulder. Cole’s panting breaths and shaky moans only spur him on.

When it is over, he slowly rolls off Cole with a groan. He looks half-dazed, with the expression of a man who has only just woken up. He reaches out and turns him to face him. “Hey,” he says. “You alright?”

Cole nods. He leans in and kisses him. He lingers, letting it deepen leisurely. Stefan pulls his body closer, embraces him tightly. “Yeah, I’m alright,” Cole whispers when he breaks off, resting his forehead against Stefan’s. “Thank you.”

A plea, and a thank you. Stefan wonders what the hell has happened. But he doesn’t give him any sarcastic comment, only nuzzles him and says, “you’re welcome.”

They lay like this for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Cole will leave and Stefan won’t see him until they’re at Central the next day, but this time, he puts his head on the pillow next to Stefan, and is asleep in minutes. Stefan cleans them up and holds him close. He is down now, completely enamoured with this goddamn man. He’ll do whatever it is he needs to help him, no matter what, or where, that is. He knows he can’t fix him entirely but... He can try and soften his jagged edges.

All this time, he’s thought they’ve been unequal - Cole always the centre of attention, and Stefan in the background. But now, he’s never been less jealous in his life. They’re partners, after all.

One day, Stefan knows, Cole will be promoted again and he will have to let him go. But not yet. He tightens his embrace possessively and places one more kiss on his cheek. Cole smiles softly in his sleep.

#la noire #fanfiction #nsfw #stefan bekowsky #cole phelps #stefan x cole #is that even a tag??#i need to publish some more of them #*and by that i mean finish the manyyy stories i've started about them #myfic

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aronnaxs · 6 years

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Hank x Connor Fic: The Perfect Fit

So it seems I am reviving this blog for some Hank x Connor porn. I just wanted to write some really sappy intense stuff with them and this is what came out.. Lots of fluff, lots of overstimulation, and lots and lots of reassurance and care from Hank ~

Title: The Perfect Fit Ship: Hank/Connor Rating: Explicit Plot: Hank wants to make sure that both he and Connor enjoy their times together. Connor’s solution is to have a very specific upgrade. Extract: “Right. I’m ready. All my systems are running optimally. There was a ‘foreign object’ warning but I ignored it.”

Hank can’t help chuckling. “That’s not exactly dirty talk, Connor.”

“I just thought you’d want to know.”

“All I want to know is if you’re alright with me fucking the robo-brains out of you.”Connor pauses.

Hank swears he sees a blue blush creeping up the back of his neck. “I am perfectly alright with that, Hank.”

Also on my AO3

Hank opens the door to his bedroom, switches on the light, and almost chokes on his beer. As his eyes adjust, he realises that there is someone sprawled out on his mattress. Senses dulled, taken by surprise, he thinks for a moment that this is how he dies. Then, a familiar voice says, “hello, Lieutenant. I had my upgrade.”

“Connor, Jesus fucking Christ. What have I told you about coming in unannounced?”

Connor blinks. He slowly sits up, sensing he has done something wrong. He has stripped himself out of some of his suit, and is only in his dress shirt and jeans. “Apologies, Lieutenant. I wanted it to be a pleasant surprise for you. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Well, you did. You almost gave me a heart attack. Again.”

Connor looks down. Give me a minute, Hank thinks. He can never stay mad for long at Connor. Not these days. “Alright,” he breathes once he his heart had returned to normal and he can’t stand those downcast puppy-eyes anymore. “Let’s have a look at this upgrade.”

Connor brightens up. He climbs off the bed and waits for Hank to sit down. He leaves his beer on the side table. “I’m putting my drink down for this, Connor,” he says. “This better be good.”

“If it’s not to your liking, Lieutenant, they assured me that there was a refund or exchange policy that we could use. As long as I returned within 30 days of purchase.”

Hank scoffs. “We are talking about...” He waves at the lower half of Connor’s body. Connor nods. “Jesus, I never thought I’d live long enough to hear that. Well, I don’t give a shit about that. I’m gonna like it.”

“But if you don’t -“

“Connor. I’ll like it because it’s you. It could be fucking luminous blue for all I care. I want you either way.”

Connor smiles a little. It gives him the assurance to unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt, pulling off his jeans and stepping out of them. He folds each article of clothing neatly. It is not a striptease by any means, but it gets Hank going anyway. This has been something he and Connor have discussed for a while - for their mutual benefit, not just Hank’s. He can only imagine what Connor had said to them at CyberLife to explain the procedure. Then again, since the revolution, things are more liberal. Maybe it isn’t that out of the ordinary.

Connor watches his face as he sinks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. Hank, heart in his throat again, nods.

He peels his briefs down his legs, then slowly stands up. Hank’s eyes follow the lines of his body.

Oh, Jesus Christ. He is gonna fucking die.

Connor once didn’t have anything done there. He is an android detective, for Christ’s sake - no need for a dick and balls. He had been a beautiful little Ken doll, and Hank had not minded in the slightest. But months of fucking Connor’s thighs has made him wonder if Connor is feeling the same things as he is. He was designed as a machine, there to serve. Even after the revolution, he is still following Hank around like that poodle he once mocked him as. He’s wanted to know what this boy is truly feeling.

His voice sticks in his throat as he takes in his new additions. He literally would not be able to tell the difference between an android prick and a human one. It is not too small, not too big, not too long, not too short. Completely hairless, and already a little hard. Hank is silent.

“Do you like it, Lieutenant?” Connor asks.

“Oh boy,” he hears himself say. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Are you sure? If you have any issues -“

“Connor, since when were you so shy? It’s perfect. What, did you just hand those dirty bastards a list of my preferences or something?”

“I know what you like, Lieutenant.”

“Hank, Connor. I think we can drop the formality now, right?” He can’t stop staring. Connor never covers up. “Give me a spin. Let me see all of you.”

Connor obeys. He does a slow turn and Hank makes a noise he is ashamed of. Fuck, how did such a beautiful boy decide to slum it with a screwed-up old man like him? He is flawless from head to foot - his strong shoulders, the graceful line of his back, his long and taut legs, that round ass. Hank can’t help reaching out and taking handfuls of those globes. “So, they gave you a proper asshole and prostate too?”

“I don’t know the internal workings. But yes, they did provide me with a means of you and I having penetrative intercourse.”

No toll-number dirty talk. But Connor could read him the yellow pages and he would find it sexy. He makes him lean forward a little, and softly eases apart a cheek. “Oh boy,” he whispers again. It looks so real. Do they have a specialist intimate area section at CyberLife or something?

Connor straightens up when he has stopped admiring. He turns, his entire body on display. “Where do you want me, Lieutenant? Is there anything you want me to do?”

“Connor,” he sighs. “I told you. This isn’t just for me. I want us both to enjoy it. I want you to tell me what you want.”

Connor frowns. He is so used to being given orders. His deviancy has tried to change so much about him in such a short time, and they are still working through it. Connor was programmed to deal with the nuances of human behaviour, not his own. Hank can’t believe that, of all people, he is helping an android to adjust to society. He has come a long, long way, just like Connor has.

But Connor is still looking at him like a lost dog. “Alright,” he tries again. “What do you want? Right now?”

“I want to...I want to do what you want to do.”

“No. Try again.”

“I want -“ Connor’s eyes flick backwards, over Hank’s shoulder. “I want to lay down.”

“Good boy. Go on then.”

Connor climbs back onto the bed, laying down on his back and spreading his legs. His arms rest above his head completely defencelessly. He is still doing what he thinks Hank likes (and he’s fucking right). But tonight is not about Hank.

He slides next to him, loosening his shirt. Connor’s fingers instinctively reach to curl into his chest hair. Hank smiles. “Still can’t believe that your perfect little android ass finds me attractive,” he says.

“I assure you, you’re my type too, Hank.”

“We both know you don’t have a ‘type’, Connor. But I’m not gonna turn down you saying that. How high a success rate did that little compliment have?”

A smile tugs at Connor’s lips. “87 percent.”

“I’d put it higher.”

Hank leans in and kisses his mouth. Connor loops his arms around his neck, responding. He is a lot better at this now. The first time Hank had kissed him, it had been like one of those practice kisses on a hand or pillow or something. Connor had just - let it happen. Now, he parts his lips and allows their tongues to brush. Hank cups his flushed face gently, and wonders, as he always does, if Connor is analysing him with that clever mouth.

Of course he is.

He frowns when Hank pulls back. “You need to stop drinking so much,” he scolds.

“Really? You’re gonna do this now?”

“I’m always concerned for your safety, Lieutenant - Hank.”

“Okay, okay. Alright, I heard you the first five thousand times.”

Hank kisses him again, running his spare hand down his chest. He can’t help trailing his fingers onto his groin and wrapping them around his new cock. It is warm and responsive, hardening into his soft grip. Connor’s nails dig a little into his hair. Hank breaks the kiss to give him space to work through it. The feelings are probably intense the first time. “Hank,” he says, thighs tensing. “I didn’t think it would be so - sensitive.”

Hank grins. He runs his mouth down Connor’s neck, knowing that is one of his favourite places, and listens to him hum softly. He strokes him gently, not pushing him too far too soon, relishing the feeling of Connor’s hips moving into him. He looks and sounds so fucking good like this, shaking a little already, sighing. He builds him up slowly, then stops before they can lose themselves too much.

Connor sinks back onto the bed. He looks up at Hank expectantly. That cute blue blush is starting to decorate his cheeks. “Okay, baby boy, what do you want?” Hank asks.

Connor knows he will give him whatever he asks for. He pulls him down, softly, slowly, as if he wants to whisper a secret to him, and says, voice cracked, “I want you to fuck me.”

Now, that is something Hank could get used to hearing. He had thought it would be something like “I want you to penetrate me” or “I’d like you to insert your penis into me” not...that. He realises his mouth has gone dry. Connor waits expectantly. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Connor settles back, spreading those lovely long legs again. Hank wastes no time in going down, trailing his mouth down his chest and torso, up over the incline of his hips, placing two kisses on each soft thigh. He loves to spoil his boy, tracing every inch and mapping every freckle, forgetting that he was made in a factory, but now, Connor is looking down at him and he can’t deny him anything. Jesus fucking Christ, when did he turn into such a sap? Probably about the time he realised that this insufferable android wasn’t so insufferable after all.

He places his hands on Connor’s thighs and eases them back. He immediately draws a sharp breath. “Oh, Hank, I forgot to tell you,” Connor rushes out. “That is another feature they offered me. I accepted as I thought you’d enjoy it, and it would make things...easier.”

“Fuck. Is that -“

“Self-lubrication. Yes. It is directly linked to my arousal levels. The more aroused I am, the more that will be produced.”

“Fuck,” he says again, fixated by the sight of the slick liquid dribbling out of Connor. Unable to resist, he presses a thumb between his pert cheeks and rubs it. “Do you know how wet you already are?”

“I know.”

“Is it -“ How the hell to phrase this. “Is it - safe to -“ He waves a hand nonsensically. But Connor gets the idea.

“Yes. It is safe to taste and touch.”

Hank doesn’t have to be told twice. He ducks his head and brushes his lips to Connor’s damp hole. The boy stiffens, thighs tightening. Hank reaches up and entwines their fingers together, reassuring him. He makes brief eye contact with him, sees his LED spinning between blue and yellow, frantically trying to process this new sensation, then he goes for it.

His mouth seals over Connor’s entrance, feeling that liquid seep over his lips. He darts his tongue out and licks at the rim hungrily, noticing it flutter impulsively. Connor sighs shakily. Hank squeezes his hands and starts to tease him, keeping to the edge then dipping inside at every other caress. He senses him clenching a little, trying to make his tongue stay inside. He squirms and it makes Hank’s beard rub against his inner thighs. It is another feeling to work through, and he does so eagerly, like the good boy he is. Hank rewards him by plunging inside. “H-Hank!” he calls, arching.

Hank wants more of that. He pulls out then goes in again, rhythmic, tormenting, exploring Connor’s wet and warm inside. CyberLife really did think of everything. He opens him up with his mouth, and Connor shakes, greedily pushing himself down. Hank dares to glance at his face, and knows it will be the focus of his every fantasy until God knows when. He is flushed, eyes closed, mouth open in a gorgeous ‘o’ shape, head tilted back. Did Elijah Kamski know he was creating such an erotic dream when he designed him?

Hank moves up and lathes his tongue along the underside of his erection. Connor moans helplessly. He holds him down when he bucks up, and takes the time to enjoy his new upgrade. He teases the length of his cock, taking the head between his lips, swirling his tongue, and watches Connor’s mouth open wider. He throbs gently, pre-cum leaking. Hank laps it up eagerly, unable to deny that he is getting off on this himself. Connor is even more fucking beautiful when he is rapt with pleasure like this. His hips move, trying to get Hank further down. But his voice is getting higher and higher, and Hank knows that that must be a warning sign.

He can’t have him coming this soon.

He pulls away, to a petulant whine from Connor. “I didn’t want you to stop,” he says.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“Mmm. I do.”

“Then I can’t have you coming now.”

“I can experience orgasm many times in a short period,” Connor says. “There is only a very short cool-down. If you desired it, you could take me all night.”

Oh, Christ. If Hank wasn’t straining in his pants already, he definitely is now. “Well, you might be able to manage that, Connor, but I don’t think I would. Let’s just start with this, okay?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“No ‘Lieutenant’, I said.”

“Yes, Hank.”

He is being too compliant again. “Tell me again what you want, baby,” he says, stroking his face gently. A hint of a smile touches his lips.

“I want you inside of me, Hank.”

“Yes, yes.”

Hank adjusts his legs, pulling them up. His backside rests against his thighs, knees comfortable around him. “Gonna prep you, okay, baby boy?”

“I don’t need to be prepared, Hank, I -“

“I just want to be safe rather than sorry, Connor. Can you open up for me?”

Connor smiles. Then he closes his eyes and parts his lips wide, tongue sticking out. Hank has got off before just by thinking of that mouth. It is so - perfect. He slides two fingers in and Connor immediately closes around them. Hank explores that wet cavity, sliding against the soft inner skin of his cheeks. Connor moans. His mouth has been designed to analyse samples, and so it is packed with sensors, and extremely responsive. Hank moves his digits in and out, and Connor sucks on them obscenely. The blue blush gets deeper. He reaches up to grip Hank’s wrist, happily taking in another finger. He swirls his tongue all around them, drooling a little when Hank stuffs him full. “You’re doing so well, baby boy,” Hank praises, knowing how much Connor likes it. “You’re so good, so good.”

Connor hums in delight. Hank crooks his fingers to the roof of his mouth and draws a long line up from his soft palette to the ridge of his teeth, spreading around that artificial saliva. Connor’s eyes roll back. He wonders if he could bring him off just by doing this. One day, he’ll try.

Now, he reluctantly withdraws, leaving a tendril of drool. “Good boy,” Hank says breathlessly. Connor slowly opens his eyes again, though they remain heavy-lidded, cheeks hot. God, he really is a fucking wet dream.

He adjusts his hips again and makes sure he is comfortable. Connor looks at him with total trust, resting back against the pillows. “You ready?” Hank asks. He nods.

Hank tries just one finger to start with, though he can feel Connor’s lubrication seeping down through his pants. It is an easy fit, and the “oh -“ Connor exhales is enough to make him enter another digit. It’s “ah!” this time and a shiver that runs through Connor’s taut stomach. Hank plays around, letting him get adjusted then dragging down the inner walls. They are identical to a human’s. The sensation of them, their heat, the tightness... Connor watches, mouth parted, fascinated. Hank slowly begins to shift them in and out. He is glad that Connor is resilient. He is not sure how much longer he can last without getting inside of him.

He inserts another finger, feeling the lube dribble over his hand. Connor tenses and bites his lip. “Making you feel good, am I?” Hank smiles. He nods. “Wanna see if you’ve got a sweet spot in there somewhere.”

“I don’t know, Hank. I don’t - oh - oh!”

Hank has curled his fingers again. He touches on something that seems to send shockwaves all through Connor. He throws back his head, mouth stretching open. “Right there, huh?” Hank teases.

He strokes the spot again and Connor’s hips buck. “Right there!” he agrees loudly. Christ, that gets Hank going. He presses his fingers in hard and begins to rub his prostate or whatever it is in there, not giving him space to calm down, just going at it non-stop. Connor squirms, driving himself down, grabbing the pillow, tossing his head. “Haaaank, aah!” he whines, thrusting into nothing. “Uh - you’re gonna - make me overheat -“

Hank smirks. He loves more than anything to see him lose his composure like this. He loves being the cause of it. He gives Connor three more strokes, then retreats. Connor sinks in relief. “You alright, baby boy?”

Connor nods. Hank doesn’t think there is any point in waiting longer. He undresses quickly and smirks when Connor makes grabby hands to help him. He lets him pull off his shirt and make deft work of his jeans. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth when he peels off his underwear and Hank springs free. It is nowhere near the first time he has seen him naked. But it’s the first time he’s going to actually be inside him.

Jesus, he’s going to have a heart attack.

“Can you turn over for me?” he asks, finding his voice. “It’ll be easier.”

“You can’t hurt me,” Connor assures, but does as he is asked anyway. He rolls onto his stomach and shifts up onto his knees. He spreads them instinctively and Hank watches a stream of lubrication trickle down his thigh.

“Oh boy,” he breathes.

“Is this alright, Hank?”

“Yes. Yes.”

He can’t wait any longer. He grips Connor’s slim hips and loves how his large hands can grab so much of him. It isn’t a completely accurate picture. He knows that Connor is far, far stronger than he looks. Maybe that adds to his arousal.

But for now, Connor remains still, glancing over his shoulder. Is that a hint of nervousness in his face? “I’ll take care of you,” Hank says.

“Please.”

He smoothes his hands down Connor’s sides, then back again, resting on his waist. He lines himself up with his damp, fluttering entrance and then, without much warning, he pulls him back and breaches him for the first time. A gasp is wrenched out of Connor. It sends shivers down Hank’s back. “Good?” he asks.

Connor pauses. Nods.

Hank pushes in a little more. Connor is incredibly wet inside, so warm. “God, Connor, you’re so tight,” he comments.

“They - they assured me that it would be the most beneficial fit,” Connor explains, and of course he should sound so proper even with a cock halfway inside of him. “They said that it would be just big enough, but not too much, so you would - would gain pleasure from it.”

“Well, they didn’t fuck up.”

“I’m glad you - like it, Hank.”

Hank grips on and gently eases Connor back more. He digs his hands into the sheets, arching his spine and creating an even fucking sexier position. It makes him push further. “Uh, Hank, you’re so -“ Connor starts, before cutting himself off. Hank huffs.

“I’m so - what? C’mon, Connor, say it.”

“It might - stroke your ego, Hank.”

Hank smiles. “The place you’re in, baby, it might help you.”

Connor swallows. “I can feel you filling me up, Hank,” he breathes. That is good enough.

He manages to bottom out, and is surprised to feel a smooth barrier at the end of the push. Connor gasps, and he likes to think that it’s because he didn’t expect him to get that far in. “This alright?” he checks.

“Y-yes. Yes.”

“You want me to start moving?”

“Wait, let me just - get used to it. It’s...a lot.”

Hank isn’t surprised. It’s a lot for anyone in their first time, let alone an android who has only just learned to act independently and has had these new ‘upgrades’ installed. He lets Connor breathe through it, gently stroking his back. He wriggles a little, adjusting the feelings and Hank has to grit his teeth. “Christ, Connor -“ he murmurs.

“Right. I’m ready. All my systems are running optimally. There was a ‘foreign object’ warning but I ignored it.”

Hank can’t help chuckling. “That’s not exactly dirty talk, Connor.”

“I just thought you’d want to know.”

“All I want to know is if you’re alright with me fucking the robo-brains out of you.”

Connor pauses. Hank swears he sees a blue blush creeping up the back of his neck. “I am perfectly alright with that, Hank.”

Hank wastes no more time. Now with the permission he wants, he pulls out a little way and gives the first thrust. Connor stiffens. He bunches the covers in his fists. Hank does it again. The android is so warm, bordering on hot, inside and incredibly smooth. Hank can feel his synthetic muscles clenching on to him. They let him in so openly, soaking him in fluid. “Jeez, you feel good,” he manages. “Like you’re made just for me.”

“I was. I gave them your measurements.”

“What?”

“They made sure I was perfect for your size.”

“Wait - you’re telling me that CyberLife has a file somewhere on my dick?”

“I can create another on your performance once we’re done.”

Hank laughs breathlessly. “I don’t need one.”

He slams forward harder and drives the next comment right out of Connor’s head. He tenses and arches his back a little. Hank can’t keep up this agonisingly slow pace for much longer. He holds on to Connor’s hips and begins a rhythm, immediately speeding up when Connor moans against the pillow. It is such a beautiful and open sound, not programmed into him, not dictated by a particular system, just Hank inside of him, drawing his pleasure up from some previously hidden place. He thrusts in and is treated to a beautiful display below him. Connor tilts back his head and sighs, clinging on to the sheets. He pushes back and quickly finds a pace to match Hank’s. He goes back as Hank goes in and it isn’t long before Connor is shaking, unravelling right before Hank’s eyes.

“Is this good for you, baby boy?” Hank asks.

“Yes. Yes, so good,” Connor pants.

“Tell me if you want anything else. Harder, faster, slower... Make as much noise as you want.”

“Faster. Please.”

Hank obeys. He drags Connor back by his hips and hears him whine. The speed increases. Connor’s insides pull him in, only making him more eager, and he can’t help looking down to see his cock going in and out, in and out of that spasming hole. Christ alive, it all feels so damn real. Hank closes his eyes and concentrates on the wet tightness about him. It is even fucking better than he imagined.

“Hank, Hank,” Connor gasps and spreads his legs. Hank slides in easier, hearing him cry aloud in approval. He gets faster again. “Oh, Hank, yes!” Connor moans, burying his face in the pillow. His whole body is starting to tremble, knees weakening. Hank holds him up. The fact that he is bringing this beautiful android such utter delight is like a drug. He is so happy - so glad - that they decided to do this.

Gently, he loops his arms around Connor’s chest and quickly pulls him upright. The change in position has him throwing back his head over Hank’s shoulder. Hank lifts him up and then drops him down onto his cock, choking off the cry in his throat. Connor desperately reaches back to hold on to something and grips his hair. His helpless shaking and hot, full-voiced moans get Hank going more than anything. He snaps his hips up into Connor and arches him back, giving him an angle which, by the look on his face, must be absolutely earth-shattering.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he groans, burying his face in Connor’s neck.

“More - more -“ Connor begs.

Hank is powerless. He gives Connor anything he asks for, reaching with one hand to wrap around his cock, and brushing the other over his lips. Connor opens up, allowing him to plunge three fingers inside. As he fucks him, he strokes all around his mouth, caressing his cheeks, the roof, down to the palette where he knows he doesn’t have a gag reflex. Connor takes it all greedily. His throat vibrates with muffled moans.

“Want to see you, sweetheart,” Hank says. “Want to see your face as I fuck you.”

Connor nods.

He flips him over onto his back, pushing him down onto the mattress. He pulls out for a moment, and Connor immediately has his legs open eagerly, lubricant leaking from between them. He looks at Hank through heavy eyes, cheeks flushed, lips bitten and sore. “Hank, please,” he pleads, and that is all Hank needs.

He slams in again, so hard that Connor’s back reflexively arches. He cries, long and passionate, as if it is everything he has ever wanted. He doesn’t shut up as Hank starts to fuck him with an intensity he didn’t even know he had in him anymore. How long has he thought of doing this to Connor, how many times, how many dreams? He shifts Connor’s thighs and wraps them around his waist, getting the perfect angle. Connor moans, no, he fucking sobs, throwing his head back onto the pillow. His eyes roll into his head, drool escaping down his chin. Hank is ruining him, and nothing, nothing will ever turn him on more than this.

“Hank, please, please,” he cries. “Please, don’t stop, harder, harder -!”

Hank anchors himself either side of Connor’s head and sets a brutal pace, slamming the headboard against the wall. Connor screws his eyes shut and writhes. Hank hits his prostate dead on and tears spill down his cheeks. “Hank - ah - I can - Icanfeelit -“

“It’s alright, baby, I’ve got you -“

“Hank, I can’t stop it -“

“I’ve got you.”

Hank assaults his sweet spot again and again and again, leaning down to kiss his neck where he knows a bunch of sensitive wires are. Connor squeezes his legs around his waist. He clings on to him for dear life, starting to cry when Hank reaches to stroke his cock. He is so overstimulated, so overwhelmed, so close, and Hank tries frantically to hold off until he can see him over.

“Hank!” he shouts. “Hank, I’m gonna come - I’m gonna come - I can’t stop it - oh, fuck, fuck, Hank!”

Connor suddenly stiffens. He arches his entire body, opens his mouth and screams. The most intense orgasm Hank thinks he has ever seen hits him like a freight train. His LED goes crazy, flashing between yellow and red. Wires light up beneath his skin. He shakes, soaking his stomach, clenching so incredibly tight around Hank. He fucks him all the way through it, not letting up until he is done.

And then Connor mutters a blissful, weak, “oh, Hank” and that is the final straw.

Hank sees white. He comes hard, flooding Connor’s insides, and crushing him in his arms, moaning. Connor encouragingly squeezes his muscles around him, drawing every last drop out. He can hear the blood rushing through his head, and for the first time in so long, he actually sees stars.

Connor is smiling when it is finally over. He looks up at Hank, slowly cooling down. “I almost rebooted,” he says.

Hank laughs breathlessly. He gently pulls out, ignoring the mess. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. That was...pleasant.”

“You can say that again. Jesus Christ, Connor, you’re loud.”

“Did you not like it?”

“No. I mean, yeah. I liked it.”

Connor smiles. “I’m very happy to please you, Lieu - Hank.”

“And, you know what, Connor, I’m very happy to please you too.”

Connor brightens, his LED flashing to a vivid blue. This kind of thing isn’t in his programming. People don’t serve Connor, he is designed to serve them. But now, here he is, laid out, human-like in his vulnerability, and so satisfied that he is glowing. Hank really is turning into such a fucking sap, as that beautiful image is making his heart clench.

He rolls off Connor and cleans them both up. Connor wraps his arms about him and holds him tight. Though he knows the android doesn’t sleep, he still likes to cuddle up and put his systems into a low power mode to simulate Hank’s patterns. It is another thing not in his programme but which they have worked around to suit them.

Exhausted (understandably), it doesn’t take long for Hank to fall asleep. Connor comes with him. Just before he goes under, he knows that it doesn’t matter what Connor adds to himself and his systems; it doesn’t matter what he adapts; there is something about him - something beyond all that - which makes Connor special.

And damn it, Hank loves this fucking android.

There is nothing that will change that.

#hank anderson #connor rk800 #hank x connor #nsfw #detroit become human #fanfiction #detroit fanfic #hannor #myfic

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