[Hank ducks inside and moves along the wall by the couch, wondering if he's going to be able to keep up with this game if Connor gets too into the role. Connor is stronger, quicker, and doesn't get tired. Hank is out of shape. If this were a training exercise, he'd probably get his ass kicked.]
So even Sumo has turned has he? You bastard, persuading my vicious attack dog. Do you think you can to seduce me next with your fucking perfect plastic body?
[His pulse pounds in his ears with a little thrill. Maybe he's getting pretty into the role himself. He's done a number of busts in his better days. He can't help but smirk a bit from the corner of his mouth.]
[Hank keeps his eyes on Connor, and yanks out a seat cushion from the couch with one hand. He flings it at Connor while moving closer.]
[connor has taken all of these factors into consideration, not to worry. this wouldn't be a good night if he got to into the build-up of authenticity. besides, his research suggests this part is just a backdrop to the main event. he calls out in that slightly condescending tone he used to early on in his investigations when he was chasing down perps, but there's a grin he can't get rid of even as he spies hank coming in.]
Sounds to me like you've already answered your own question, Lieutenant!
[he catches the pillow, tossing it to the side, stepping back quickly only to--
rather ungracefully fall back onto one of sumo's chewtoys. which, he knew what there but didn't actually anticipate falling back on. maybe hank isn't the only one who got to into this, and connor isn't always the perfect machine. remember the broken window hank? he lets his legs splay invitingly, pushing himself up onto his elbows and staring at hank.]
Looks like you got me after all, Lieutenant. Are you going to go easy on me? Maybe one night with an android is all it takes to make you go crooked.
[Hank breaks character with a bark of a laugh at Connor's theatrics. He takes a moment, but is still smiling when he comes over to Connor and stands imposingly over him, flicking open a pair of handcuffs. He rubs his thumb along the curve of the metal, letting Connor get a good look at them.]
We'll see about that. Who's to say you won't get hooked on organic?
[He crouches down, placing a knee between Connor's legs, and pulls him into sitting up by the front of his shirt.]
I'd tell you to spread 'em, but I see you're a step ahead. Now... hands behind your back!
[connor feels a thrill at the contact with hank, light as it is, but suggestive given their positions. he doesn't have real breath--only an artificial simulation that was meant to mimic a human function--but he exhales in an audible noise when hank's knee nudges against his leg and he's hauled up. knowing from day one that hank can hold his own in some respects compared to his android super strength.
as amusing as this is, he keeps his smirk to himself and lets his eyes narrow into something cold and reminiscent of his early days without deviancy--just cold hard analytics.]
If you think that'll be enough to hold me....you're mistaken, Lieutenant. But you can try.
[he puts both hands behind his back, thirium output spiking by another 7% as he watches the gleam of metal in hank's hands--the real deal, the one's he'd warned had some bite.]
[It's absolutely the wrong way to handcuff a criminal, but Hank leans into his chest to put his arms around Connor and access his wrists. He blindly cinches the cuffs on in moments, and gives the chain a tug to make sure they're on good. If Connor can get a glimpse of Hank's face from that close angle, Hank's looking pretty smug.]
Go ahead and try to break them. You can't do it. You won't be getting the key from me, either.
[He sees that haughty look in Connor's eyes. With how he's kneeling close to him, he's towering over him, and he takes his chin in hand to tilt his head up and get a better look at him.]
Didn't know androids breathed. I kind of like that... really fucking sexy.
[absolutely the wrong way to cuff a perp. connor has analyzed a minimum of twenty-three escape routes if this were serious--determining this to be a very simple hold to get out of and incapacitate hank. but this is meant to be part of the fun too: pretending. he could snap these cuffs if he put his full effort into it, but he pulls a surprised face and tugs at the cuffs once hank leans back as if it's futile, like he's only just realized his own predicament.]
F-fuck.
[he'd done a lot of research to make his struggling as...enticing as possible. and he knows it's hit the mark when hank tells him as much. he looks up through his lashes coyly, mimicking something defiant in his eyes even though all he feels is excitement.]
Don't think you took mine away yet. Is--
[his cheeks flush slightly, lower lip quivering for just a moment before he forces himself to finish. he hadn't rehearsed this for nothing, after all. hours of footage was downloaded specifically for the moment, even though he's sure the percentage is still 50-50 on whether hank will laugh or appreciate it. there's a pointed glance downward before he makes eye contact again and bounces a brow.]
Is that a gun in your pants, Lieutenant, or are you just happy to see me?
[Hank chokes back a laugh at the pouty look and cheesy line, and shakes his head at Connor. He's having trouble taking this seriously.]
Pretty sure that line is twice as old as I am.
[Connor is captive now, just as he wanted. He feels Connor's eagerness under his paper-thin front of defiance. He feels his own eagerness as well... yeah, he's happy to see him. He's straddling Connor's thigh as he handles him, and gives a little lean closer so he can feel for himself. Hank's expression changes as well, he breathes a hot sigh, eyes half-lidded, as he draws his rough thumb against Connor's lower lip. Connor won't need to scan him to see that Hank is affected. He has to bite his own lip to remind himself that he's not done teasing him. Can't reward "bad behavior" just yet.]
...Alright you android, seems I'll have to frisk you before I take you in. Tell me now if you've got any secret compartments you're hiding anything in.
[Hank stands up, hauling Connor up by the shirt again. He pushes him bent forward onto the living room table, knocking an empty bottle and a magazine tablet onto the floor. He nudges Connor's knees apart with his own knee. Now he's completely hands-on, dragging his palms down Connor's sides in a frisk, from ribs to hips. Then he works a hand under Connor's shirt, sliding heavily up along his back, exposing synthetic skin as the fabric bunches over his wrist.]
[before hank has the chance to pull away, connor opens his mouth and lets hank's finger slip in, laving it with his tongue. his eyes slip shut in an approximation of what he's seen hundreds of men and women do with certain other appendages in pornography. his hud receives a barrage of data--hank's name, age, stress level, criminal record--and he dismisses all of them to small icons in his taskbar, marking them non-essential and setting them not to disturb again during the next two hours.
hopefully it's enough to make up for his cheesy line, but he doesn't want to break character this early by just asking if that's the case. when hank pulls away to yank him onto his feet momentarily and manhandle him against the table--that gets his thirium pump racing, output ticking up another 9% in excitement. hearing the clatter of items that are inconsequential props to this is...exhilarating. his hands flex in the cuffs, tugging at them and feeling another secret thrill as he presses his cheek against the wood tabletop with a content little sigh. he doesn't resist as hank fondles him, instead leaning back into it and even slightly wiggling his ass up against whatever he can reach on the other.]
I don't have any weapons of mass destruction, if that's what you're concerned about.
This is all a misunderstanding, Lieutenant. [he shivers slightly as those big, warm palms trace their way up his artificial spine.]
If I let you have your way with me...will you let me go?
Edited (gd it hit enter too soon) 2018-09-17 05:47 (UTC)
[He mutters it half-serious because really, no human has a power-ass like that. Android ass could probably out-ride a rodeo cowboy. Two hours? If he heard Connor expects that much, he'd complain that he's old.]
"Let me?" Huhh... no, I don't think so. I think you'll be begging to have me instead.
[Hank draws the finger wet from Connor's artificial saliva down the ridge of his spine, skipping over the chain of the cuffs, and tapping right above his belt. He feels Connor trying to wriggle his ass up, and reaches underneath him to unlatch his belt.]
Procedure says I'm going to have to search you. Seems like your ass is ready for it anyway.
[He slides Connor's jeans down to just below his rear. Now Hank has to take a second to collect himself... he swallows dryly, and lays a heavy palm on Connor's nicely-shaped butt like he might pet it. It's hard not to be struck by how perfect Connor is every single time.]
[Well, "procedure" calls. He spreads Connor's ass-cheeks with his thumbs, and strokes down the middle with a forefinger.]
[hank is good at this. he's very good at it, and all it does is send a surge of heat through his wires that rests comfortably between his legs in a hot throb. he bites his lip again, flushed high on his cheeks as he tries to turn around to see what hank is doing. that's much more exciting even it spoils a bit of the anticipation.
he doesn't hesitate to lift his hips up and make it easier for hank to get his pants off. if it were up to him, they'd already be on the floor and he'd be fully nude; he's that eager. it's hard to be anything but when he feels those rough hands warm on his artificial skin. connor has memorized the exact outline of them along various part of his body, mapping it out in an area of data he's allocated specifically for the way hank touches him. sometimes when he's alone, he'll use it to preconstruct the same sensations, even if it's never as good or as heavy and perfect as when it's organic.]
I--I wanted to get caught.
[he breathes it out like hank has gotten it in some embarrassing confession when really he's just excited.
and then he kicks it up another notch, those fingers dipping along the curve of his ass and exposing his hole. as soon as hank traces his finger he'll note that it's already wet with lubricant, something he no longer regulates to make it a more authentic sign of arousal. his voice is a little strained, flush creeping down the back of his neck now too.]
Lieutenant--I think you need to have a closer look.
[He gives him a playful smack on the rump, just hard enough for a little jiggle, then squeezes each cheek. He breathes out to steady himself.]
You're so fucking beautiful... can't believe they even gave you freckles.
[Hank pulls Connor back a couple inches, roughly sliding him on the table, so his back end is hanging more over the edge. He keeps one cheek spread and draws his thumb down to Connor's sack, pressing on the back of it.]
Fuck...
[Yeah. Closer look. Hank kneels down without taking his hands off of him, fingers firm on his artificial flesh. He presses his mouth on his inner thigh, scratching with his beard and biting softly. He works his way up slowly in an effort to be sensual about this, until he's dragging his tongue to his lube-slicked hole and prodding it in, working the rim in flexing licks and jabs and trying to find some spot or angle that will make Connor squirm.]
[connor feels a sharp bloom of warmth from hank's big hand slapping against his skin, enough to titillate and get him that much wetter, but not enough to actually hurt or satisfy his curiosity. maybe one of these days he'll ask hank to take him in his lap and let him rut against his thigh between heavy blows of his hands, connor increasing sensitivity so his fleeting palmprints can last just a few minutes longer.
that mixed with the wash of hank's praise has him pressing his heated cheek against the cooler surface of the table with a hum caught in his throat. hank might have slipped from the routine in saying so, but he softly says more steady than he feels:]
Thank you, Lieutenant. I--only want you to be the one that knows about them. Like a secret. Off the record.
[it sounds stilted, only because he's getting restless with the need for hank to do something. there's not much longer for him to wait when he feels the ghost of hank's breath moments before the slight flex of his fingers and then his beard, dragging along the sensitive inner parts of his thighs. hank should be able to feel the slight tremor that runs through them, mostly from a heady rush of his thirium output levels and core temperature rising. he relegates all non-critical errors to background notifications, not wanting to be interrupted.]
Hank--
[he slips up too, finally, when his lips draw closer and closer to the place he needs it the most. he wants to reach back and thread his fingers through hank's coarse hair, to press up against him until his nose is nearly flush with connor's artificial skin and he's fucking him with his tongue--but then he remembers the cuffs with a sudden frustrated noise as he trembles and tries to writhe back for more.
(realistically: of course he could break them. but this is the experience he wanted to give to hank and himself. placing his complete trust and letting hank do whatever he wanted, and however too.)]
[Hank lunges deep with his tongue, feeling Connor's trembling response. He squeezes both ass-cheeks and works him hard against the edge of the table. Then he withdraws, groaning loud because he aches. He lets go of Connor to fumble with his pants, unbuttoning and unzippering, letting his swollen erection hang out the opened fly. He gasps for breath, pausing for the moment, and wipes the lubrication off of his tongue with the back of his hand.]
[...He pauses to think about his next move. The reaction to the little slap was good. Hank doesn't want to hurt him, but he can't feel pain, right? Connor seems to pretty clearly want the rough treatment. Androids are always so intense about everything...]
[He experimentally strikes his palm against Connor's ass again, heavier this time. Will he turn red or blue, he wonders?]
Tell me you want to be punished, Android.
[He almost chuckles as he gets back into the absurdity of his character. Then he presses a finger to his asshole, working it in slowly up to the knuckle. He strikes another stinging slap with his other hand.]
[connor's fingers flex against the table as he moans against it again and tries to ride back against hank's face for more. every slick swipe of his tongue, scratch of his beard and firm grip with those hands has him leaking against the smooth wood surface. honestly, he's wet enough on his own that hank doesn't actually need to bother with it--but he must be feeling generous despite his role and connor isn't going to complain.
he turns to look over his shoulder, biting down on his lip when hank stops and pulls out his flushed, heavy cock. connor nearly goes cross-eyed just looking at it, his hole clenching in anticipation that hank is going to fuck him so soon. he ducks his head again, letting his eyes close so he can just feel the blunt head of it splitting him open--only it doesn't come. instead he gets a sharp slap that rings out into the room, connor's eyes flying open with a startled oh.]
I--
[there it is again. it's not pain per se, but he can feel the pressure and the zing of it because he specifically wants to and has turned up his sensors to feel it best as possible with his existing functions. he does know he likes it, especially when hank pushes into him with practically no resistance and then forces him to squeeze hard around his finger from another smack.]
Oh--shit--Lieutenant, please punish me. However you see fit, I deserve it. I n-need your firm hand.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Hank ducks inside and moves along the wall by the couch, wondering if he's going to be able to keep up with this game if Connor gets too into the role. Connor is stronger, quicker, and doesn't get tired. Hank is out of shape. If this were a training exercise, he'd probably get his ass kicked.]
So even Sumo has turned has he? You bastard, persuading my vicious attack dog. Do you think you can to seduce me next with your fucking perfect plastic body?
[His pulse pounds in his ears with a little thrill. Maybe he's getting pretty into the role himself. He's done a number of busts in his better days. He can't help but smirk a bit from the corner of his mouth.]
[Hank keeps his eyes on Connor, and yanks out a seat cushion from the couch with one hand. He flings it at Connor while moving closer.]
no subject
Sounds to me like you've already answered your own question, Lieutenant!
[he catches the pillow, tossing it to the side, stepping back quickly only to--
rather ungracefully fall back onto one of sumo's chewtoys. which, he knew what there but didn't actually anticipate falling back on. maybe hank isn't the only one who got to into this, and connor isn't always the perfect machine. remember the broken window hank? he lets his legs splay invitingly, pushing himself up onto his elbows and staring at hank.]
Looks like you got me after all, Lieutenant. Are you going to go easy on me? Maybe one night with an android is all it takes to make you go crooked.
no subject
We'll see about that. Who's to say you won't get hooked on organic?
[He crouches down, placing a knee between Connor's legs, and pulls him into sitting up by the front of his shirt.]
I'd tell you to spread 'em, but I see you're a step ahead. Now... hands behind your back!
no subject
as amusing as this is, he keeps his smirk to himself and lets his eyes narrow into something cold and reminiscent of his early days without deviancy--just cold hard analytics.]
If you think that'll be enough to hold me....you're mistaken, Lieutenant. But you can try.
[he puts both hands behind his back, thirium output spiking by another 7% as he watches the gleam of metal in hank's hands--the real deal, the one's he'd warned had some bite.]
no subject
Go ahead and try to break them. You can't do it. You won't be getting the key from me, either.
[He sees that haughty look in Connor's eyes. With how he's kneeling close to him, he's towering over him, and he takes his chin in hand to tilt his head up and get a better look at him.]
Didn't know androids breathed. I kind of like that... really fucking sexy.
no subject
F-fuck.
[he'd done a lot of research to make his struggling as...enticing as possible. and he knows it's hit the mark when hank tells him as much. he looks up through his lashes coyly, mimicking something defiant in his eyes even though all he feels is excitement.]
Don't think you took mine away yet. Is--
[his cheeks flush slightly, lower lip quivering for just a moment before he forces himself to finish. he hadn't rehearsed this for nothing, after all. hours of footage was downloaded specifically for the moment, even though he's sure the percentage is still 50-50 on whether hank will laugh or appreciate it. there's a pointed glance downward before he makes eye contact again and bounces a brow.]
Is that a gun in your pants, Lieutenant, or are you just happy to see me?
no subject
Pretty sure that line is twice as old as I am.
[Connor is captive now, just as he wanted. He feels Connor's eagerness under his paper-thin front of defiance. He feels his own eagerness as well... yeah, he's happy to see him. He's straddling Connor's thigh as he handles him, and gives a little lean closer so he can feel for himself. Hank's expression changes as well, he breathes a hot sigh, eyes half-lidded, as he draws his rough thumb against Connor's lower lip. Connor won't need to scan him to see that Hank is affected. He has to bite his own lip to remind himself that he's not done teasing him. Can't reward "bad behavior" just yet.]
...Alright you android, seems I'll have to frisk you before I take you in. Tell me now if you've got any secret compartments you're hiding anything in.
[Hank stands up, hauling Connor up by the shirt again. He pushes him bent forward onto the living room table, knocking an empty bottle and a magazine tablet onto the floor. He nudges Connor's knees apart with his own knee. Now he's completely hands-on, dragging his palms down Connor's sides in a frisk, from ribs to hips. Then he works a hand under Connor's shirt, sliding heavily up along his back, exposing synthetic skin as the fabric bunches over his wrist.]
no subject
hopefully it's enough to make up for his cheesy line, but he doesn't want to break character this early by just asking if that's the case. when hank pulls away to yank him onto his feet momentarily and manhandle him against the table--that gets his thirium pump racing, output ticking up another 9% in excitement. hearing the clatter of items that are inconsequential props to this is...exhilarating. his hands flex in the cuffs, tugging at them and feeling another secret thrill as he presses his cheek against the wood tabletop with a content little sigh. he doesn't resist as hank fondles him, instead leaning back into it and even slightly wiggling his ass up against whatever he can reach on the other.]
I don't have any weapons of mass destruction, if that's what you're concerned about.
This is all a misunderstanding, Lieutenant. [he shivers slightly as those big, warm palms trace their way up his artificial spine.]
If I let you have your way with me...will you let me go?
no subject
[He mutters it half-serious because really, no human has a power-ass like that. Android ass could probably out-ride a rodeo cowboy. Two hours? If he heard Connor expects that much, he'd complain that he's old.]
"Let me?" Huhh... no, I don't think so. I think you'll be begging to have me instead.
[Hank draws the finger wet from Connor's artificial saliva down the ridge of his spine, skipping over the chain of the cuffs, and tapping right above his belt. He feels Connor trying to wriggle his ass up, and reaches underneath him to unlatch his belt.]
Procedure says I'm going to have to search you. Seems like your ass is ready for it anyway.
[He slides Connor's jeans down to just below his rear. Now Hank has to take a second to collect himself... he swallows dryly, and lays a heavy palm on Connor's nicely-shaped butt like he might pet it. It's hard not to be struck by how perfect Connor is every single time.]
[Well, "procedure" calls. He spreads Connor's ass-cheeks with his thumbs, and strokes down the middle with a forefinger.]
no subject
he doesn't hesitate to lift his hips up and make it easier for hank to get his pants off. if it were up to him, they'd already be on the floor and he'd be fully nude; he's that eager. it's hard to be anything but when he feels those rough hands warm on his artificial skin. connor has memorized the exact outline of them along various part of his body, mapping it out in an area of data he's allocated specifically for the way hank touches him. sometimes when he's alone, he'll use it to preconstruct the same sensations, even if it's never as good or as heavy and perfect as when it's organic.]
I--I wanted to get caught.
[he breathes it out like hank has gotten it in some embarrassing confession when really he's just excited.
and then he kicks it up another notch, those fingers dipping along the curve of his ass and exposing his hole. as soon as hank traces his finger he'll note that it's already wet with lubricant, something he no longer regulates to make it a more authentic sign of arousal. his voice is a little strained, flush creeping down the back of his neck now too.]
Lieutenant--I think you need to have a closer look.
no subject
[He gives him a playful smack on the rump, just hard enough for a little jiggle, then squeezes each cheek. He breathes out to steady himself.]
You're so fucking beautiful... can't believe they even gave you freckles.
[Hank pulls Connor back a couple inches, roughly sliding him on the table, so his back end is hanging more over the edge. He keeps one cheek spread and draws his thumb down to Connor's sack, pressing on the back of it.]
Fuck...
[Yeah. Closer look. Hank kneels down without taking his hands off of him, fingers firm on his artificial flesh. He presses his mouth on his inner thigh, scratching with his beard and biting softly. He works his way up slowly in an effort to be sensual about this, until he's dragging his tongue to his lube-slicked hole and prodding it in, working the rim in flexing licks and jabs and trying to find some spot or angle that will make Connor squirm.]
no subject
[connor feels a sharp bloom of warmth from hank's big hand slapping against his skin, enough to titillate and get him that much wetter, but not enough to actually hurt or satisfy his curiosity. maybe one of these days he'll ask hank to take him in his lap and let him rut against his thigh between heavy blows of his hands, connor increasing sensitivity so his fleeting palmprints can last just a few minutes longer.
that mixed with the wash of hank's praise has him pressing his heated cheek against the cooler surface of the table with a hum caught in his throat. hank might have slipped from the routine in saying so, but he softly says more steady than he feels:]
Thank you, Lieutenant. I--only want you to be the one that knows about them. Like a secret. Off the record.
[it sounds stilted, only because he's getting restless with the need for hank to do something. there's not much longer for him to wait when he feels the ghost of hank's breath moments before the slight flex of his fingers and then his beard, dragging along the sensitive inner parts of his thighs. hank should be able to feel the slight tremor that runs through them, mostly from a heady rush of his thirium output levels and core temperature rising. he relegates all non-critical errors to background notifications, not wanting to be interrupted.]
Hank--
[he slips up too, finally, when his lips draw closer and closer to the place he needs it the most. he wants to reach back and thread his fingers through hank's coarse hair, to press up against him until his nose is nearly flush with connor's artificial skin and he's fucking him with his tongue--but then he remembers the cuffs with a sudden frustrated noise as he trembles and tries to writhe back for more.
(realistically: of course he could break them. but this is the experience he wanted to give to hank and himself. placing his complete trust and letting hank do whatever he wanted, and however too.)]
no subject
[...He pauses to think about his next move. The reaction to the little slap was good. Hank doesn't want to hurt him, but he can't feel pain, right? Connor seems to pretty clearly want the rough treatment. Androids are always so intense about everything...]
[He experimentally strikes his palm against Connor's ass again, heavier this time. Will he turn red or blue, he wonders?]
Tell me you want to be punished, Android.
[He almost chuckles as he gets back into the absurdity of his character. Then he presses a finger to his asshole, working it in slowly up to the knuckle. He strikes another stinging slap with his other hand.]
no subject
he turns to look over his shoulder, biting down on his lip when hank stops and pulls out his flushed, heavy cock. connor nearly goes cross-eyed just looking at it, his hole clenching in anticipation that hank is going to fuck him so soon. he ducks his head again, letting his eyes close so he can just feel the blunt head of it splitting him open--only it doesn't come. instead he gets a sharp slap that rings out into the room, connor's eyes flying open with a startled oh.]
I--
[there it is again. it's not pain per se, but he can feel the pressure and the zing of it because he specifically wants to and has turned up his sensors to feel it best as possible with his existing functions. he does know he likes it, especially when hank pushes into him with practically no resistance and then forces him to squeeze hard around his finger from another smack.]
Oh--shit--Lieutenant, please punish me. However you see fit, I deserve it. I n-need your firm hand.