#connor: *dropping leg and kicking it* oh shit fuck sorry nines

[deviant-hunter-rk800]

Break

—Someone’s broken in. Connor is the first person you think to call. But what will he choose?—

A/N: IM BACK!! So this has been on my mind forever now, and I’m so excited it’s finally done!! Please let me know what you think of it!

Warnings: kinda fluffy Connor, swearing, blood, fighting, angsty

“Goddamnit, Kyle!” You rake a hand through your hair, sighing through gritted teeth. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no damn way-”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says tiredly, “there’s nothing I can do.”

Clenching your jaw, you hang up, nearly throwing your phone across the room. You shake your head, wanting very badly to hit something. A headache quickly forms as you mutter curses.

“Thought you were an officer, not a sailor,” Gavin taunts, laughing as he props his feet up on his desk.

“Fuck off, Reed,” you snarl, “or so help me I will shut you up myself.”

He rocks back, laughing even harder at your sour mood. Without warning, you grab the nearest object which happens to be a pencil. He jumps as you bring it down towards his shin, barely missing your mark as he crashes to the floor.

“Crazy bitch,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his head. He slowly stands up, backing away from you. He’s a good ten yards away before he turns towards the door.

“Don’t get me wrong,” someone says. Turning, you recognize Hank and Connor walking towards you, the older man smiling. “Seeing Gavin nearly get shanked brings me great joy,” he sits on your desk, taking the pencil from your clenched fist, “but you could’ve at least used a pen.”

You sigh, picking at your desk. “Don’t judge,” you mutter, “could’ve gotten lead in his blood. Made ‘im real sick.”

“She does have a point,” Connor agrees. Your lips twitch at his pun. Looking up at him, a timid smile pulls at his lips. “I thought it would help your mood.”

“But you’re just gonna ignore she tried to stab Reed?” Hank shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Oh. Okay.”

Connor blinks, head tilting to the side. “I assumed her actions were a side effect of her fever.”

“Fever?” You and Hank say simultaneously. You don’t break eye contact with Connor as you lean towards the older man. “Jinx. You owe me a coffee.”

Hank’s head turns fast, scowling at the side of your face accusingly. You smile innocently at Connor despite the two holes being bore into your head. His brows furrow at your actions.

“You never get sick,” Hank says, the frown tipping into concern, “and now you’ve got a fever?”

“It’s not severe, Lieutenant,” Connor interrupts, “her body temperature is only at ninety nine point-”

“But you don’t get sick,” he repeats.

“Long story short,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair, “I’ll be staying at a motel for a month or so cause the pipes in my apartment building froze.”

Both Hank and Connor’s brows raise. “Holy shit, kid.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, resting your head in your hand. “Kyle — the shitty landlord? — says he can’t get anybody to come look at it for a couple weeks.”

“Why not ditch the motel?” Hank places a hand on your shoulder. “Stay with us till the shit gets fixed.”

“Hank-“

He rolls his eyes, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Oh c’mon, Y/L/N. I’ll even make pancakes.”

You chew your lip, considering his offer. Bunk with an old cop, his dog, and a cute android? It wasn’t the worst idea. It definitely beat getting some disease from mysterious stains in a broke down motel.

“Alright,” you say finally.

Hank smiles, a dimple pressing into his cheek. He ruffles your hair. “Alright.”

The squeal of brakes from a train echoes distantly accompanied by three solid knocks on the door. Sumo pick his head up off your lap, giving a soft woof. Setting your book down on the nightstand, you scratch his ears, earning a couple whumps of his tail against the bed.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you coo sweetly. You manage to free your legs of the blankets as the saint bernard settles again. Using your foot to swing the door open, you tie up your hair, quietly padding down the hallway.

You’ve just rounded the corner when the handle jostles. You hesitate, holding your breath as muffled curses make their way through the door. Goosebumps rise on your skin. A thousand thoughts flood your mind, the scariest one being, That’s not Hank.

The lock clicks. “Fuck,” you snap, your voice a whisper.

The door swings open, it’s handle denting the drywall as two men push through. You lock eyes with the first man, the two of you standing shell shocked for half a breath. The second, the younger looking with a heavy bruise on his cheekbone, slaps the first.

“Fuckin grab her!” He shouts, slamming the door shut. And just like that, the standoff comes to a jagged end, the first guy lunging at you, his cigarette stained teeth bared.

Grabbing his wrist, you twist his arm to the side, driving the heel of your palm into his nose. Losing his balance, he topples backwards. The second man reaches out, but with a rush of fur blurring by, Sumo latches his teeth into his arm.

“Sumo!” Cigarette Teeth seizes your moment of distraction and get you in a headlock, his forearm held tightly against your throat. Bruise punches the dog in his ribs before throwing him off. “No!”

He adrenaline coursing through you hinders rather than help, turning your motions frantic as you scratch and scream; your fingernails leave angry, red welts across his skin. Bruise moves forward. You bring your knees to your chest, a savage growl pushing through gritted teeth as you kick him in his stomach. The loss of his footing sends him to the floor, his face meeting the wood with a loud thump!

“Jesus, fuck,” the man holding you grunts, an undertone of fear taking over his words.

The slamming of your heel on the arch of his foot paired with the whip of your head against his already bleeding nose earns a well deserved howl of pain.

Finally able to slip from his grasp, you kick Cigarette Teeth in his knee, watching him drop to the floor with a loud cry. You grab the nearest object — a book off one of the many shelves — and bring its spine down across his temple. With a groan, he crumples to the ground.

“Sumo,” you murmur hoarsely, chest heaving. You quickly fall to your knees, gingerly running your hands across his fur, turning his head towards you. “Are you okay? Fuck.”

His tail wags lightly, letting out a small whine. You whip your head to see Bruise pushing himself up with a groan. Quickly looking at your options, you stand up.

“C’mon, boy,” you urge, helping the large dog limp towards the bedroom. “Good boy! Just a little more! C’mon!”

Slamming the door, you rip the chair from the desk, lodging it beneath the door’s handle. You grab your phone from the nightstand, your book long forgotten. Sumo growls.

“I know, buddy,” you say weakly, scrolling hurriedly through your contacts. 1-800-CYBERLIFE comes into view and you hit dial. “C’mon, Connor. Pick up! Pick up!”

A rumble from the other side of the door. Sumo, crouching low, bares his teeth. You back away.

Click.

“Connor?!”

“Why is it,” Hank says dully, “that every time we gotta go chase some fuckin dead end, it’s always at some creepy, abandoned, probably haunted building?”

“If it’s any consolation, the likelihood that this building is haunted is very low.” Hank turns slow at Connor’s remark, glaring at the android with a dangerous look in his eye. Connor tilts his head. “Would you prefer rat infested?”

Hank narrows his eyes, grimacing nonetheless. “I fuckin hate you.”

Connor can’t help the faintest shadow of a smile that tugs at his lips. With a shake of his head, Hank’s attention returns to the warehouse, the rusted sign worn beyond recognition. At least to the human eye; there was still enough residue from the paint for the RK800 to confirm the location, despite the many years.

“I know you do, lieutenant.”

A middle finger is thrown over the older mans shoulder. His free hand taking hold of the door handle, he draws his weapon. Dust kicks up at their feet, the squeal of the hinges echoing off the graffitied walls.

Quiet steps are placed carefully amongst broken glass. Hank pulls one hand from the grip of his gun, his pointer finger aimed at the ceiling, drawing a circle into the air. Connor follows the order, scanning the small room with a flick of his eyes. The disturbance of dirt trailing through the door on the opposite wall is highlighted.

“There,” he says quietly, jutting his chin. Anderson takes the lead.

With the ceiling half collapsed on itself, rusted cross beams hang dangerously low, the sunken roof giving way to a darkened sky. The moonlight — one drag from an old cigar away from hazy — makes the room glow. Hank’s hand lays flat, making a sweeping motion towards the right side of the warehouse. Silently, Connor tips his head.

Parting from one another, each officer carefully makes their way through the building, scanning and searching for leads. Connor ducks beneath a shelving unit, one hand resting on the wall as he maneuvers quietly. He’s sure to miss the rebar haphazardly sticking out from the floor. He stands, but not before the remnants of a bloodstain is highlighted by his sensors.

Walsh, Chris

3 days old

Suspect is injured.

His record is littered with aggravated assault, theft, multiple drug charges, and battery. Violence is nothing new to Walsh, and from previous statements, he finds a certain appeal to the chaos. Got caught more than once, but was often let out on good behavior. There’s a soft curse from the other side of the building, Hank’s flashlight piercing the veiled darkness.

Scanners highlighting an otherwise dark corner, Connor finds himself standing in something akin to a home; a rat’s nest composed of unwanted trash, the bed nothing more than stained cardboard with a tattered and worn sweatshirt acting as a blanket. The android — clean and tidy in every sense of the word, with only a few strands of hair out of place — is so very juxtaposed to his surroundings. Crouching, Connor tilts his head left, eyes darting about for a trace of the suspect. There, on a soda can tipped on its side, it’s contents half spilt onto the floor, are smudges of fingerprints.

Walsh, Chris

7 hours old

“He’s been here, lieutenant,” he calls out. But the answer doesn’t come.

Looking over his shoulder, he stands slowly, carefully awaiting a smart comment or a grumble of disapproval, but there’s only the wind, a distant siren from somewhere in the city, and the tremble of a loaded gun.

“Lieutenant?”

Connor listens, sensors heightened to a degree, he isolates Hank’s heartbeat. It’s slow, steady, and it’s not the only one. The second pulse is wild, barely tamed by ragged breathing. Straightening, the android begins to move.

“Chris Walsh.” His voice is loud in the hollow building, smooth and demanding; dangerous on a calculated level. “Detroit Police, show yourself.”

Keeping the wall to his right, Connor silently makes his way towards Anderson, finding him on his side. The android drops, assessing the remnants of ketamine in an abandoned syringe, a needle mark in the man’s arm. A bruise begins to blossom on his neck, the ugly shade of purple dark against the silvery beard.

Connor grits his teeth, a half contained, “Shit,” escaping him. He radios in to the precinct.

Code 243, 11-41. Officer down.

A frustrated howl rips through the air, the ring of a gunshot piercing. “Where the fuck are you?!”

11-99. 1083 Wilson Avenue. Repeat: 11-99.

Ducking away from the unconscious officer, Connor finds the suspect standing in the spotlight of the broken roof, his eyes darting frantically. Given the levels of chemicals in the man’s system, Connor estimates Hank will wake up in two minutes and forty seven seconds. The android is several paces away before speaking.

“Chris-“ the suspect’s eyes find a spot in the darkness, gun pointed at the yellow — now red — ring of light “-put the gun down.”

“I could- I could kill you! Right now!”

The light touches Connor’s skin, and Walsh jumps. The shadows peel back with every slow step. “No,” the android says flatly, “you can’t.”

“I’m the one with a gun!” Connor nods, not furthering his agreement.  The suspect’s hand shakes, a tremor wracking his entire being. “There’s laws! Androids they-“ a shake of his head “-they can’t have weapons!”

“You’re right.” Hesitation. A smooth step closer. “There are laws. Plenty of which you’ve broken.”

Walsh bares his teeth. Knuckles pale against the black steel, he adjusts his grip, uncomfortable with its weight. Connor begins to circle him. Walsh turns in his place, frantic eyes never leaving the android.

Connor, as calm as he is efficient, watches the suspect, easily filing away every flaw. He’s dissecting him from five yards away. The bandage haphazardly wrapped around his bicep, the bloodstain dark, is most noticeable. Chris is ramabling by now — a desperate attempt at  justifying his actions.

“I’m- I’m sorry, okay? I never wanted- he owed me!” His pleas go unheard. “I didn’t have- have a choice!”

Estimated time of awakening for Lt. Anderson: fifty three seconds.

Reinforcements estimated time of arrival: three minutes and fourteen seconds.

Attack: 86% chance of success

Without further thought, Connor lunges forward. The gun goes off, missing it’s mark by inches and with a dramatic clatter, it skids across the floor. Programming takes over his movements; a dog, trained to be unforgivingly vicious. And Chris – poor, poor Chris – was the cat.

A whir of mechanisms within the android urge his movements, ducking beneath a wid swing. In turn, a knee is brought to the fugitive’s stomach, folding him over with a grunt of pain. Locking his jaw, a determined look settles on his face. He wraps his arms around Connor, lifting him off the ground and tackling him into a nearby shelving unit.

The pressure on his biocomponents is unwelcome and earns a groan. Walsh takes hold of the android’s shoulders, spinning him, and driving his head into the corner of the shelf. Blue blood easily spills. Before another blow can befall him, Connor braces himself, pushing back against Walsh’s hold. But he still has his momentum and slams his own nose into the android’s elbow.

He cradles his now broken nose, blood quickly flowing between his fingers. Connor turns. LED still a blaring red, thirium drips from his left brow, the liquid following the shape of his eye socket before rolling over his cheekbone and dripping off his jaw. If he needed to breathe, his chest would be heaving. He makes no effort to fix his crumpled (and now stained) shirt nor straighten his tie. Disheveled but nowhere near distraught, he suddenly fits his surroundings.

Incoming call: Detective Y/L/N.

He answers, hesitating when he hears a hushed yet frantic, “Connor?!”

“Detective?” His mouth doesn’t move, but his voice rings through all the same. You let out a choked breath. “I thought you-“

“I need your help,” you cut him off.

He can’t see you flinch at the pounding of the door, but he can hear the fear in your voice. Hank, from the other side of the room, groans.

“Now may not be the best time, Detective.”

His answer is cold, but Walsh is eyes the door behind him, feet shifting.

“Please! Please!” A fleeting thought occurs to him that’s he’s never seen, let alone heard, you cry. “Two guys broke in, Con. They’re twice-“ your voice cracks “-twice my size and I don’t think I can hold them off.”

Sirens close in around the building. Had the call not been directly wired into his head, he would’ve missed the way your voice died at the end. Walsh’s finger wrap deftly around an iron rod. Raising it above his head, he takes a swing which Connor narrowly misses.

“What is it they want?”

“I don’t know!” Venom taints your tone. “Lemme ask em real quick!”

Chris recovers, bringing the rod over Connor’s throat, forcing him to bend backwards if only slightly.

“Think, Y/N.” The android brings his elbow to the man’s rib cage, but his grip is firm. “How do you get out of this?”

There’s true terror in your voice now. “I don’t know! Connor, please! I need-“

You’re cut off by your own yelp, the door finally giving way, splinters flying. Sumo barks wildly. There’s a thud, the scuffle of feet, and the sounds of a fight.

“Detective?”

Now he’s worried. Hell, he’s scared. Flashlights flood the room and Walsh’s head snaps to the source. Panicking, he drops the rod all together, taking off towards the back corner.

“Y/N?!”

He says it out loud this time, but there’s no response. There’s a loud crack within his own head, followed by a sickening thump of something heavy hitting the carpet.

Time slows – no, it feels like it slows. Damn near coming to a halt as the sight of Walsh’s back, his feet carrying him towards freedom. But there’s also the silence that he so desperately wishes would leave him; an ache to hear your laugh, saying it was all a joke. It doesn’t come, and with one of Sumo’s cries cut short, he knows something is terribly wrong.

And yet, he hesitates.

[X] SAVE HER

[O] CHASE SUSPECT

Want to join the revolution? Send me a message!

Break Series:

@nayscharacterstrash

Current Deviants:

@teigra  @emwara123  @divadonadance1  @onceuponagleepottermindlock  @suicidal-crazy-lions  @watchoutforfrostbite  @unlikelybreadtimemachine  @maddiemourns  @w-van-derlust  @internalplight  @layinglonely  @captain-winter-wolf-aehs  @yallgotkik  @connorshero

(If something went screwy in your programming, and your tag didn’t work, let me know!)

[rk-869]

I wrote a little oneshot for the Valentine’s Day 1700 event on Twitter :) Edited by GreenDevilSam In short Connor forgets he has a date with Nines.

A knock at the door alerted the residents of the home to a visitor. It was nearing seven pm on a cool late February evening. Connor jogged over to the door, large Saint Bernard at his side, curious to know who was behind it. When Connor opened the door, he felt his thirium pump cease in his chest.

Everything came flooding back to him from three weeks ago.

Connor quickly slammed the door in the person's face. The dog beside him started barking, wondering why he couldn't meet whoever was on the other side of the door. Perhaps that person would have given him rubs.

"Connor? Who was it?" the home’s other occupant asked from the couch. He sat there lazily as he watched some game on the TV.

The android's LED flashed red while he slowly turned to his best friend, brown eyes wide. "Uhm, Hank... uhh..." Connor scratched behind his head nervously. "Don't be mad."

Hank frowned, looking over at the android. He took a swig of beer before he asked, "Why would I be mad, Connor? What happened?"

The android took an unnecessarily heavy breath before he spoke. After his deviancy, he had picked up more human characteristics mostly from Hank, such as changing his automatic breathing pattern when he was stressed even though he didn't need to. "You remember the android I've been dating?" Connor questioned as he fiddled with his hands.

"Yeah? The one you can't shut up about?" Hank replied with a smirk.

Connor's cheeks flushed blue; he hadn't expected Hank would say something like that. "Y-yeah... Well, he's here now and I forgot to tell you that we were going to have a date here," the android said all in one breath. He visibly flinched when Hank paused while going in for another sip of his drink.

"You what?"

"I... forgot."

"You forgot? You're a fuckin' android!" Hank shouted angrily.

"I know, Hank! I was too nervous to tell you, it would've been like kicking you out of your own house," Connor tried explaining, stress level rising and voice getting whiny.

Hank groaned loudly as he pushed himself up on his feet, shaking his head. "I'm already in my I-ain't-doing-shit-else-today clothes, Connor, for fuck's sake!" Before Connor could plead his case to him, Hank pointed a finger at the android's face. "Don't..." he warned.

Hank walked toward his room and Connor guessed he had given in and was going to change. "Oh, fuck," he suddenly muttered, rushing back to the front door upon realizing his boyfriend was still standing outside. Connor yanked it open and gave a sheepish smile. "H-hi, Nines!" he greeted cheerily despite having been yelled at a few seconds ago.

The android standing a few inches taller than him tilted his head. "Is... everything alright? I heard some shouting. I can come back later if you need time," Nines spoke. Connor panicked a bit; his thirium pump pulsated in his ears.

"No, no! It's fine. Uhm... come in," Connor said, watching as Nines handed over a bouquet of flowers then leaned forward to place a gentle peck to Connor's cheek. Blue tinted his face right after.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Hank shouted as he caught them in their short embrace. It was innocent and he had no reason to react like that, but Hank was just being a grumpy butt and it wasn't the first time he had caught them giving each other smooches.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson,” Nines said as soon as he laid eyes on the old man. Hank waved him off with a grumpy sound.

"Sorry, Hank," Connor said immediately. Sumo barked and ran around Nines' long legs, wanting attention. The taller android smiled as he plopped down on the couch, Sumo right beside him. He gave in and stroked his hand through the big dog's soft fur.

Hank pointed at Nines and then to Connor after he slipped on his shoes. "No doing the nasty... And no interface nasty either," he warned. Neither android replied. "Sumo will let me know," Hank added when they didn't say anything. Sumo barked at his owner as if he understood what Hank had said.

"Be careful, Hank!" Connor yelled as he went out the door. His best friend just groaned in response.

Once the door was closed, Connor turned to Nines who was looking up at him with a smirk. He raised his unoccupied hand and motioned for him to come over. Connor walked to the couch, still nervous from the awkward situation they were in. Once he had sat down, he stared at the television as if he was interested in the game Hank had been watching.

"Seems you forgot about our planned date." Nines broke the silence in the room first.

Connor sighed. "I'm sorry, Nines. I was really busy helping Hank at the police department. It's been a lot more stressful now that we're deviants."

Nines turned to him. "I understand. It has been difficult for me as well. Dating, even more so. We do not quite get how the humans do it, but I believe we'll figure it out eventually."

Connor smiled. "Yes, I think so too." His LED changed to yellow as he flipped through the TV channels. "Hey, Nines, I want to show you something cool Hank introduced me to," he said as he opened up an app on the television. Nines watched curiously. "It's called Netflix. He told me it has a library of movies and television shows."

"I know what Netflix is, Connor." Nines laughed a bit. "Are you saying we should watch a movie? I'd like that."

That made Connor relax and he returned the smile. "Is there anything you’d like to watch?" he asked.

Nines shook his head. "I am aware of what Netflix is and how humans use it excessively, however, I haven't taken the time to watch anything. Please, I'll watch whatever you decide," he said, taking Connor's hand into his own.

Connor nodded as he squeezed the large hand. "Hank showed me crime shows first. He's really into those. Hmm, perhaps we can watch a horror movie."

"Are you sure you can handle horror?" Nines teased lightly.

Connor's smile dropped into a slight pout. "N-no."

Nines tilted his head at the quickly stuttered reply. "Or... is this a scheme you're pulling so that you'll be able to cuddle closer when you get scared?" Nines grinned when Connor only pouted harder.

Connor scrolled through the list of horror movies and gritted his teeth as he stared at one particular picture of a scary looking nun. He unconsciously held Nines' hand tighter.

"Let's watch that one," Nines said, lifting Connor's hand to his lips.

Connor nodded, already sliding closer to Nines. "Okay…" Though he agreed to the movie, as soon as he started it his stress levels started rising throughout the intro. The music had already gotten to him. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Nines turned to him and noticed his predecessor's levels were elevated so he moved, wrapping an arm around Connor and pressing a kiss to his temple. Connor relaxed a bit and sighed in relief, remembering that he wouldn't be watching the movie alone.

About thirty minutes into the film, Connor had his legs drawn up on the couch. He was hugging a pillow as he watched the movie—couldn't take his eyes off of it. What surprised Connor the most was that he could tell that his successor's stress levels had gone up a bit as well. Seemed the horror movie wasn't only getting to him.

That's when a jumpscare happened, music sharp and loud. Connor shrieked and the pillow he was clutching flew across the room. He had nearly hit Nines in the face with how his body spasmed.

Nines' LED was spinning rapidly on yellow. He believed Connor’s yell frightened him more than what happened in the movie. Nines figured it was time to distract Connor since he didn't want his levels to go up any higher. He turned to Connor and raised his hand, artificial skin peeling away to show the white chassis beneath.

Connor glanced over at his companion, seeing him as he waited patiently for Connor to join him. "N-Nines, we can't. Hank said…" He paused when Nines shook his head.

"He is not here, he won't know."

"Ah, Nines. You're a bad influence." Connor replied, his innocence on display.

The grey-eyed android chuckled. "Well, they do say we're like yin and yang. Perhaps I am the bad one…" Nines' smirk made Connor blush more. "What's wrong with a little Netflix and chill?" he added and the expression Connor gave him made him laugh. It was a mix of confusion and amusement.

"You're right, Nines, you are the bad one." Connor joined in on the laughter and eventually, he gave in. He really liked his more advanced model.

Connor had felt something different when he had activated the other android in CyberLife's storage. After the revolution, he had found out that they had secretly been making a newer model of him, one that would replace him. He had been on a mission to free all of the androids in the CyberLife tower when he had found the RK900, and the interfacing Connor had done to free Nines also caused him and the former deviant hunter to form some sort of attraction to each other.

Connor pressed his hand against Nines' and the androids stared at each other for a while. "You've been naughty, Connor," the younger android said suddenly, catching Connor off guard.

He knew immediately what Nines had referred to. "I... I was curious…"

"I know, but I would love to be the one to take care of you," Nines said gently, moving closer to Connor. He pressed his lips against his predecessor's. Both let out a soft moan, their little kiss amplified by their connection. Nines pulled away briefly only to attach his lips to Connor's neck.

"Mm, Nines... S-Sumo…"

Nines chuckled against the other's sensitive skin. "What about him?" The younger android asked in his ear.

"He's watching us. H-he might tell Hank we got freaky on his couch," Connor answered quickly, followed by a sharp inhale of breath when Nines bit into his neck, though not enough to break the skin.

The younger android let out a short laugh. "Got freaky? We haven't gotten that far yet, Connor. And you're picking up things Hank says." Nines pulled away; his eyes stared back into Connor's. "I want you to ride me."

Connor's entire face went blue as he gasped. "Nines!" He pouted at the smug look on his successor's face.

"Is that a no?" Nines questioned as he slid closer to Connor on the sofa. Sumo, who had been sitting patiently by the couch, got tired of waiting for more rubs and got up and walked down the hall. "There, see? Now there's no one watching," Nines continued. Connor let him lift him onto his lap, his back pressed against Nines' chest.

Nines' hands went to work immediately, still interfacing as they slipped under Connor's shirt after he untucked it. He caressed Connor's smooth skin and pinched one of his nipples, making him whine already. Nines went back to nibbling on his neck, biting a bit harder until it left a mark.

"Ah…" Connor gnawed on his lip, trying to hold back the noises in his throat.

"Unbutton your shirt," Nines ordered. Connor moved his hands up to the buttons, shaking a bit. He struggled with a few of them and gave up once his shirt hung open. He figured Nines wouldn’t want to waste any time taking it off.

Nines' larger hands roamed again, his long fingers coming to wrap around Connor's neck. He didn’t apply any pressure yet, rather just tested the waters with a firm grip. Nines secretly took note of how Connor didn't complain, perhaps he would explore that another time. Connor felt Nines' hands lower to the band of his pants. "May I?" Nines asked before he continued. Connor nodded furiously. His successor’s lips were back to a firm smirk as he began unzipping his pants. Nines' hand then wrapped around his cock, causing Connor to let out a louder moan, already bucking into the grip.

"Mmm, needy. Up," Nines said, releasing him. He helped Connor to his feet. Connor pulled his pants down, giving Nines an amazing view of his nice round ass. Hands grabbed him roughly, squeezing into the soft flesh. Connor squeaked as he felt something wet and warm against his hole. His legs trembled as Nines' tongue entered him slowly, licking around the rim.

"Oh... fuck, Nines... please," Connor begged, he definitely didn't expect this from him. Nines tortured him a while longer then slipped his tongue out of him.

Connor panted heavily, barely able to stand. His successor took the time to open his own pants, shoving them down to his knees. Nines pulled him back into his lap and Connor kicked his pants all the way off; he didn't bother to notice where they landed. Nines lifted Connor's legs, spreading them wide and making his predecessor whine more at being so exposed. Their LED's turned a bright shade of pink and Connor got a warning about his temperature rising above safe levels.

"Are you ready for me?" Nines said, nuzzling the creamy neck before him. He debated whether he wanted to leave more marks behind because he relished the sight of Connor covered with his blemishes. Connor nodded a little and shuddered a bit when his self-lubrication protocol activated with his arousal. Nines smiled, gingerly. He lifted Connor once more, angling his cock at his predecessor's hole, and lowered him onto it.

Nines took his time, he wanted to let his predecessor adjust to him. Connor's hands dug into the sofa, he needed something to grab. It was hard to do, however, being in that position. "How's that feel?" Nines muttered in Connor's ear once he was fully seated inside him.

"Amazing…" Connor replied. He lifted a hand to his mouth and bit down into it.

"Good, let me know when you're ready," Nines spoke, gentler than before. Lips attached themselves to a spot right under Connor's ear, then he continued down, teeth puncturing his neck.

"Nines, I'm ready," Connor replied softly. Nines lifted him by his hips and began bouncing him on his cock. Once his predecessor tossed his head back with a moan, he realized he had found Connor's weak spot. He couldn't help but grin and he angled Connor just a bit so that he could keep abusing it. "Fuck… Nines!" Connor groaned as he looked down at his cock, weeping and begging to be touched. Nines caught his gaze and smacked his hand away as he reached for it. "No… please…" Connor whined.

"Relax, I said I'd take care of you," Nines told him gently and he did. Connor's cock was grabbed by Nines who began stroking him in rhythm along with his thrusts. Connor clutched the sofa harder as he let out more moans from his throat. He was close, Nines could tell. He stroked him faster while picking up the pace with his pounding until the room was filled with the sound of sloppy skin on skin contact.

Nines' hand was covered with Connor's cum as he let out a loud hoarse shout. He pulled his soaked hand away and placed it at Connor's lips, pushing two fingers in. Connor groaned, tasting himself on Nines' hands and sensors describing what it was made of. His mind felt like it was going to overload soon.

That's when Nines stilled. He pulled out quickly, his cum coming out in spurts all over Hank's table and the floor. Nines let out a hard exhale as he started coming down from his orgasm. He held Connor close as they both attempted to cool down their systems before they overheated.

"Are you alright?" Nines asked, slightly out of breath.

Connor had never seen Nines outside of his usual calm and collected self. "Yes, how about you?" he asked in reply.

"Good. I have enjoyed myself," Nines told him, still holding him tightly.

Connor let out a small laugh. "You couldn't have sounded more robotic just then."

Nines' LED turned red briefly at Connor's words. He didn't say anything about it, instead noticing the mess he made. "I need to clean up before Hank gets back," he changed the subject, gently lifting Connor and placing him on the sofa. Nines stood and tucked himself back into his pants. Connor watched him as he walked into the kitchen to grab cleaning items. Nines returned, kneeling beside the sofa, his hands going to work.

Connor smiled as he admired Nines' features. He was so similar yet so different. Connor absolutely loved his striking grey eyes and sharp chin. His own face wasn't made like that. He wondered why CyberLife made his successor so much more intimidating. Connor was so lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed Nines leaning towards his face. Their lips met, kissing gently. Connor hummed a bit.

"You're beautiful, Connor. Especially when you're thinking about me," Nines said as he pulled away.

Connor's face hadn't stopped being flushed since they interfaced. "When am I going to see you again?" he questioned, laying down on the couch.

"Whenever we're free again, I hope. I'll be sure to remind you of our get together next time." Nines stood and tossed the used paper towels in the trash then washed his hands. "But I should get going. I have to pick Ms. Chen up in the morning for work. You were right by the way, I do like law enforcement," he explained with a smile.

Connor got up when he mentioned leaving. Nines looked down at Connor and his hands found his waist, tugging him closer. "I think you just get a kick out of chasing suspects and tackling them to the ground," Connor told him with a sly smirk.

"That's not all, I also like using handcuffs…" Nines kissed him again, grinning at how Connor's eyes widened a bit. "I'll see you soon, Connor," he said, having to force himself to pull away. "Goodnight," Nines spoke as he walked out the door with a wink.

Connor sighed loudly once the door was closed. He found his pants on the floor and shook them off before he pulled them back on. Not too long after that, a car pulled into the driveway. Connor realized thankfully that Nines had timed their date perfectly. He could tell by the car door slamming that it was Hank coming back home.

Bonus:

Connor was getting ready for bed. After his time with his boyfriend, he decided he needed to rinse off. Connor stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror, seeing all of the marks all over his neck. He blushed, praying Hank hadn’t seen them. Hopefully the collar of his shirt covered them up enough.

The android was almost scared out of his artificial skin when he heard Hank suddenly yell his name. He could tell the man was angry. Connor panicked a bit and walked over to the door to peek out. “Yes?” He answered curiously.

“Sumo just told me you got freaky with that android!” Connor felt his thirium pump cease functioning.

[zombylucky]

Issues

Part Two of The Sins Of Our Past , RK900/Gavin , Established Relationship , Warnings for description of gore, gun violence.

Chapter One

The sky was overcast and heavy with rain that had yet to fall. Gavin hunched his shoulders under the chill, walking briskly. He cast a glare up at the clouds when a droplet of rain hit his cheek. A few more followed, and then it was a downpour. Gavin cursed loudly, throwing his hood up over his head and running towards the precinct, shoes splashing rainwater onto his jeans.

He stumbled into the bullpen, drenched and cranky. His coworkers glanced at him, skuttling out of his way as he headed for the break room, hell bent on another coffee.

Nines usually made him coffee in the morning with the French press he’d bought for the apartment, but Gavin had somehow managed to screw his coffee up without the androids guidance.

His heart gave a dull ache of longing as Gavin poured the shitty coffee, downing it way too fast and relishing the burn in his throat. He poured another, heading back to his desk, head throbbing in a combination of stress and lack of caffeine.

Gavin was irritated. Gavin was lonely. Gavin was depressed because he woke up in a bed that was far too empty, reaching for someone that wasn’t there, and he knew that no one would be kind to him in the androids absence.

“Good morning, Detective Reed.” Gavin felt his scowl deepen and he fought the urge to slide down in his seat until he slithered under the desk. Instead, he took a long pull of coffee, setting it down and forcing himself to turn to look at Connor Anderson.

“Morning.” He grumbled, averting his gaze. Since the revolution, he really couldn’t look Connor directly in the eyes, not without waves of guilt washing over his heart.

Connor smiled brightly at him, sitting on the edge of his desk. Gavin leaned away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How are you today?”

“I’m alright.” Gavin lied. He got hardly any sleep and had one of the worst mornings he’d ever had. If Connor noticed this, which he most likely did, he didn’t mention it.

“Wonderful.” He said, his eyes twinkling. Gavin almost winced. He’d held a gun to that face. “Well I should probably go get some work done. Have a nice day Gavin.” Connor said with a wave, hopping off the desk and walking back to his own.

Gavin heaved a sigh, staring at his terminal with acheing eyes. The case was progressing slowly, it didn’t help that his walking forensics lab of a partner was gone either.

It was what Gavin would call a ‘messy’ case. Some sicko in the Detroit area was kidnapping and murdering people, chopping them up, packaging them neatly and shipping them to the various breeds of freak that called Detroit home. The purposes ranged from cannibalism to rituals, and touched on every other demented thing Gavin could think of. It was truly sickening, and Gavin was up to his elbows in unecessary evidence that lead nowhere.

If Nines were here, he could pour over the DNA evidence and find the common ground in minutes. But instead, the grey eyed wonder been recruited by Robo Jesus to serve as his personal body guard while he attended meetings in DC. Gavin was generally unhapppy about it.

He was pulled from his brooding by the soft chirp of his phone, he dug it out of his pocket to see a text from Nines.

How are things? The message read.

Shitty. I miss you. Gavin replied, feeling his heart ache a little harder.

It won’t be much longer now, one more night and then I’ll be coming home. I miss you too.

Gavin sighed, shutting his eyes. One more night.

I’ll be waiting for you.

Gavin set his phone down, resting his forehead on the desk. It was gonna be a long day, he already knew it.

...

After six hours of phone calls and pouring over evidence, Gavin had a suspect, and a warrant for his arrest. He stood on the guys porch, one hand clicking the holster of his gun open, the other holding the warrant.

He’d knocked twice, and there had been no answer. Time to kick the door in. Gavin felt a small twinge of happiness, there really was nothing like kicking a door open. It might be his favorite part of his training.

The door swung open after two good kicks, Gavin sliding his gun out of the holster and holding it in front of him. The house was dark and silent. The light from the street illuminated stacks of trash in the hallway.

Rather than announce himself, Gavin stepped cautiously into the apartment, scanning for movement. He moved into the kitchen, taking in the rotting food and dirty dishes that coated every surface. The living room was equally crammed, full of miscellaneous trash and decrepit furniture, magazines and newspapers lying around in haphazard piles. After skimming over the other rooms, Gavin caught sight of a door slightly ajar at the end off the hall, the faint outline of stairs just out of sight.

Gathering his courage, he pressed the door open, gun brushing against the wood, and peered into the darkness. Gavin found himself torn between two equally strong sentiments. On one hand, his instincts were screaming at him to back away and call for backup. The freak could be down there, and Gavin would prefer not to get into a tousle with someone who enjoyed chopping up bodies. On the other hand, he knew that if he backed down, anyone hiding down there would have a window to escape, and likely never be seen again.

Settle for a compromise then.

Gavin unclipped his radio from his belt, holding it to his mouth.

“This is Detective Reed requesting backup at my location.” He whispered into the mic, wary of being heard.

“Dispatch to Officer Reed, what is your location?” Came the answer. Gavin rattled off the address before shutting the radio off, returning it to his belt and stepping onto the creaking stairs.

The basement was too dark to see anything, damp and full of a sickening smell that made Gavin’s heart race. He fumbled around for a light switch, finally flicking one on and flooding the space with sickly yellow light.

What he saw made him clap a hand over his mouth, gagging.

Body parts. Everywhere. Arms and legs and torsos, bloody and rotting and lying on tables, half packaged in cellophane and oh god the smell-

Gavin couldn’t help but vomit in his mouth, doubling over to hack it into the floor.

“This is fucking sick.” Gavin groaned to himself, holding his gun higher. He reached for the camera mounted to his gun, turning it on and sweeping it around the room. This was damning evidence all right.

Before he had time to react, a body collided with his own, sending Gavin sprawling beneath it. Thick hands wrestled for his gun as Gavin cursed and flailed, attempting to pull it away from himself far enough to fire a shot. Growing desperate, Gavin slammed his forehead into what he assumed was the guys nose, using He moment of surprise to shoot him in the chest three times.

Gurgling and groaning willed his ears, but Gavin was still trapped beneath the hulking man. His gun was suddenly being wedges between them, his wrist twisting painfully. Gavin pulled his hand away with a cry, and felt a chill run down his spine as another shot was fired.

He thrashed and wiggled from under the now dying body, taking in the blood pooling under the man and the gun in his hands, and the blood soaking into Gavin’s shirt.

Gavin rested a hand against his chest, suddenly finding it hard to breath. Blood bubbled from the wound, the room wobbled to the side, Gavin collapsing in a heap.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Gavin gasped, pressing his hand tightly against the wound, ignoring the sickly squelch of blood on skin. He fumbled with his radio, hands wet with his own blood, pistol discarded.

“Sh- shit.” He whimpered, pressing the mic button. “Gavin Reed. Officer.. ah- Down.”

“Dispatch to Detective Reed, help is in its way. Backup should be arriving shortly.”

“Copy.” He choked, dropping the radio and focusing on forcing air into his straining lungs. This was bad, this was really bad.

Oh shit, this can’t be happening.

“Gavin?” A familiar voice shouted upstairs. It was Hank.

“Here.” Gavin croaked, blood clogging his airways and dribbling from his lips.

The stairs groaned as Hank jogged down them, the second set of footsteps no doubt belonging to Connor. Gavin whimpered, the pain catching up to him, and reached blindly for Hank.

I don’t wanna die.

“Oh fuck.” Hank whispered, falling to his knees beside him. “Hey, hey it’s alright, I’m right here kid.”

“Hank? Hank?” Gavin asked weakly, chest heaving. “I don’t wanna... die. Please-“ he coughed, blood splattering from his mouth. Hank grimaced, grasping his hand and pulling his head into his lap.

“Connor, help me put pressure on this.” Connor nodded tensely, kneeling beside Gavin with his LED a furious red. Their hands fell to push on the wound, drawing a ground out sob from Gavin.

“Connor?” Gavin gasped out, head rolling to look up at his anxious face.

“Yes Gavin?” Connor replied in a hushed voice.

“I’m sorry... I was such- a dick.” Gavin forced the words through his throat, blood running down his chin and gathering at the corners of his mouth.

“I forgave you along time ago Gavin.” Connor soothed, stroking the sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“If I dont... if I don’t...”

“Don’t say that.” Hank snapped. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“You know that.. won’t- work on me.” Gavin was gasping for air now, eyes getting distant. “Just tell Nines... that I love him, and- he was the.. best thing- that ever- happened to me...”

Connor looked at Hank, wild eyed. Gavin arched up off the ground a little.

“Promise.” He whispered.

“I promise.” Hank murmured, squeezing his hand. “I promise.” Gavin smiled, his teeth were red.

“Thank you.” He breathed. “Thank- you. Thank.. you- thank-“ He was cut off, gurgling violently, eyes glazing over. The edges of his vision grew fuzzy and dark, Gavin gripped Hanks hand tighter. The black swarmed over his vision, and Gavin felt himself falling endlessly.