Thread by @FastHankconSmut

✨Kendoll Connor doesn’t know how to tell Hank he’s ready to take the next step. Even if he did, he doesn’t *want* to tell him *how*.

Trash smut, nsfw, my garbage, self-indulgent (as always) p⭕️rn ahead
—— — - -

“Connor, I’ve got somethin’ I need to tell you.”

It was finally warming up outside, and Hank was sitting in their living room in nothing but his boxer shorts- looking about the most comfortable he’s ever looked around Connor.

He’d never been one to take modesty seriously when it was inside of *his* home, but he’d never looked this...bare, before, either.

Not now that he had a roommate hanging about.

Connor was sitting next to him, snuggled into the couch. He’d been sinking further and further into it for the past hour, now, and Hank was afraid he was about to make friends with the forsaken pocket change hiding in the cushions.

Connor didn’t look at him, but Hank could see the way his light turned yellow from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know how to say this, but your social skills really suck.” He shifted, knocking his knee with Connor’s. Hank hated to say it, but it needed saying.

Connor didn’t look at him still, and Hank knew he’d struck a nerve. Of course he had, no one wanted to hear something like that. But, nobody really had the same problems that Connor had. Nobody that Hank knew, at least.

“Why did you try to use...slang on those teenagers.”

He could hardly get the words out without laughing, but Connor had been dead serious when he had, and Hank wanted answers. He wouldn’t get any from laughing at him.

There was a beat between them where Hank was almost certain he was going to be poisoned by dinner time.

Connor could handle criticism very well. What he couldn’t handle, was failure.

Hank swallowed his food poison fear and continued.

“It was kind of...”
Precious.
“Ridiculous. Kids don’t actually talk that way, y’know?”

Had Connor just been trying something new?

Androids were doing all kinds of crazy, unexpected things now that they had deviancy to explore. He couldn’t even get into the thousands of ways he meant that, sentient androids were a chore for everybody- including themselves.

He just hoped it was more of that than Connor opening up some internet browser in his brain about youth culture so horribly out of date, it was almost offensive to defer any use from. But, Connor had done weirder, cringey-er things than that, before.

“I know that, now....I just thought I’d...try it.”

Connor still hadn’t looked at him. He stared blankly at the tv, not really watching anything, as he recounted the whole ordeal.

“Ok, sure... But, why?”

Connor’s light went red. Hank could see it glowing.

The android shrugged.
“I’m...I’m trying to...expand my human adaptation feature and improve my speech. I want to...find the right words for things. Be more relatable, I suppose.”

Cause Ra9 knew he needed it. Connor was tragically out of touch with either.

Hank cocked his head.

There was a lot of things that that could mean, and he didn’t know what to focus on.
“Find the right words for what?”
He said softly.

If it was possible, Connor sank even lower into the couch. His head tilted forward as his neck pushed into the plush.

“Con?”

Hank turned his body to face him. Maybe this was a conversation for another day, considering how raw Connor’d been about it. But, that was exactly why Hank was asking.

Lately, Connor had been sort of touchy.

In the middle of conversations and kind of out of left field, Connor would start to get all fidgety. He’d turn his eyes away and act sort of dodgy. Hank didn’t press, as much as he wanted to, but now, Connor seemed a bit...unstable.

It wasn’t dangerous, nobody was getting hurt- except for maybe Connor.

He was becoming restless and staying grumpy. Though, it was never because of anything Hank said. Maybe he was even imagining it, but Hank thought he seemed the most unsettled when they were alone.

Like this, actually.

Hanging out and talking one on one in the late night hours.

“Connor?” Hank sat a hand on Connor’s thigh. He didn’t like not knowing what was wrong anymore, regardless of how obviously unhappy Connor was about sharing.

He’d rather struggle with whatever strange phase this was alone. But, it needed to come out, and Connor needed to quit taking Hank’s ‘bottle it up’ approach on everything all the time.

Connor deserved better than that.

“Hey, honey.” Hank used pet names rather sparingly. He still wasn’t sure where they stood about on using them, considering Connor always, like now, bristled up when he did.
“What’s been going on with you? What is it you need to say?”

His thumb kneaded the ‘flesh’ of Connor’s thigh, making him shiver. Hank took notice.

“You’ve been acting kind of weird lately. I’m not trying to keep insulting you, Con, I’m just worried. What is it you need to say?”

Connor slouched further.

“Come on, Con. Look at me.”

It was a request, not a command. Hank was just worried, and Connor, in an effort to appease him, turned his body towards him. But, he was having trouble actually looking.

Not when Hank looked like *that*.

“Come on.” Hank squeezed his thigh, trying to remind him who he was here with. A moot point, since that was all Connor could think about.

“You can tell me anything, ok?” Hell, Connor had seen Hank in some of the worst ways one could possibly see their boyfriend.

If Connor could stay with him through all of that shit, Hank could handle a little rough patch between them. Easily.

This whole thing had been eating Connor up for a while now, and he was nearly bursting to get it all out. But once he did, what would Hank think of him?

What would happen to them as a couple?

What would happen to them if Connor *didn’t* tell him? The thought of keeping this inside him any longer was as terrible as confessing- except if he didn’t, he’d be hurting Hank, too.

“Could you...put a shirt on, first?”

Hank’s brows shot up. Maybe he was getting a little too comfortable with Connor, but that was not what he’d expected to hear.

“Uh, sure.” He reached for the shirt he’d thrown over the armrest.

“I’m sorry, I know this is your house. I just...”

Hank fumbled to pull it over his his head. A weird twisting in his gut. He should have seen this coming, though.
“It’s ok, really.”

Connor couldn’t possibly feel more unsettled.
“Hank, I don’t mean it like that-“

“No, no it’s fine, honey.”

Connor stiffened at the pet name, again, and he felt like he desperately needed to explain himself, now.

It *wasn’t* what Hank thought. Not at all.

“Hank, it’s really not like that!” Connor was finally looking at him.

The look in his eye was wild, almost frightened, and if Hank wasn’t horribly concerned before, he was now.

He put his hands up once his shirt was on, trying to calm him.
“Whoa, ok. Look, why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong, before we make more problems for ourselves.”

He could see the line of Connor’s shoulders slump, as he pushed back into the sofa. An odd look of defeat on his face.

“It’s been warmer than usual, lately, and I know you’re less adaptable to the heat than I am.” He said thoughtfully.

“Yeah? So what?”

“So, you’ve been...” Connor shrugged. What was the right way to say this?
“*I* have been seeing a lot...*more* of you.”

“So it *is* about my body.”

“Not the way you think....” Connor resisted throwing a hand over his face.

Hank pushed forward, eyes lit with curiosity.
“Oh?”

Connor was back to looking at his hands, again.

“What is it then?” Hank pressed.

Connor looked suspiciously pale, as he willed himself to speak. This would either make or break everything, but either way, he needed this tension to *end*.

“I was hoping I could be more subtle about this, but I don’t see any way around it. It appears I’m still too obvious for my liking.”

Hank snorted.
“Doubtful. I still don’t know what the hell is wrong with you.”

Connor made another face, this one a whole mess of things.

“Well, you’ve noticed I’ve been acting strangely.”

“Again...can’t stress enough how ridiculous the slang thing was. And maybe, uh...you’ve been kind of weird when we’re alone. Just talking like this.”

Connor sucked in a breath to cool his fans. He’d done very well to keep the embarrassment from coloring his cheeks, but he was starting to overheat.

“I know...I just can’t say what I need to say. No matter what research I do, or how much I practice,” Hank hoped the way he’d been trying to appeal to other demographics with outdated jargon wasn’t his ‘practice’, or else he was in poor shape. But, he already had his answer.

“I’m just not...able to...to...”
He shifted into the sofa, turning his face away. Hank could see red gleam across the surface.
“To *say* what I *need* to say.”

Hank forced himself to keep the space between them.

“Why not? Why can’t you just tell me? I don’t care how, uh, ‘unpracticed’ it is. Just throw it out there.” He did literally all the time.

“It’s unconventional, and, as you would say, ‘weird’.” Connor bit out. He tried to keep himself neutral, but his frustration was growing.

Hank wished he would look at him so he could give him one of those reassuring smiles. The kind Connor was so spectacularly grand at giving himself.

“Connor...I fully expect whatever you say to be weird.” When wasn’t it?

“And, I like that. I wouldn’t have made it this long with your dopey ass if I didn’t.”

Duh.

Connor looked like he was seriously considering this.
“Even the weird stuff?” He mumbled out.

“*Fuck* yeah. Especially.”

Maybe the things that made them different freaked Hank out from time to time, but he *did* 100% like them. Connor may be the only android he could ever catch these kind of feelings for, but he was happy he had. Hank would be lost without him.

Slowly, Connor looked over at him. Scanning him.

Hank let him.

“We have been dating for a while, haven’t we?” He said carefully, trying to gage him.

“Yeah. And, you’re still here, for some reason.”

“And we’ve been kissing for a while.”

Hank sat a little straighter.

“Uh, yup. Definitely have.”

“But, we still haven’t...” Connor purposely cut himself off.

Hank watched him carefully as he fidgeted about, waiting patiently for him to finish.

Connor didn’t, turning to stare Hank in the eye until that unmistakable dawning realization took over him, and Connor was sure they were on the same page.

Holy shit...

“Oh.” Hank barely managed.

Then he sat there with his mouth hanging open, completely lost at sea.

When Connor ducked his head away, Hank knew he had *definitely* understood him.

“Oh, yeah. I mean...no we haven’t done...We haven’t done, Uh...”

He thought back to how horribly he’d blundered talking to that Traci. Connor was worried about trying to tell him *this*, and Hank could hardly string together a sentence himself.

He cleared his throat.
“No, we haven’t done *that*.”

There was an unbearable silence between them where only Sumo’s muffled snoring, and Connor listening to his pump flutter filled the stagnant air about them.

Hank broke it first.
“Did you *want* to?”

He waited with bated breath.

Actually, Hank had been trying to avoid this conversation himself.

They’d started sleeping in the same bed together, which was *wonderful*. GOD it was the most contact he’d had with anybody in years. Connor was warm and vivid and he curled himself around Hank so *tight*.

Hank had managed to avoid his rampant night terrors any time Connor went to bed with him. It was *bliss*. It was soft and secret, and Hank treasured every second they laid lazily under his sheets.

It wasn’t until it’d been getting hot outside that Hank had started sleeping shirtless, and Connor had stopped cuddling so tight. He’d been using his sleep mode less, waking up early. But, he’d never said anything about it. Hank didn’t even realize it was an issue until now.

And, now he knew why. Connor hadn’t been repulsed by him.

Literally the *opposite*.

Hank ignored the space between them this time, scooting closer.
“Hey, don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to make your mind up for you, Connor. But, I think you *do*.”

Connor began to chew at his lip.

“Yes.” He pushed out, all murmurs in the quietest Hank had ever seen him.

He was about to put his hand on Connor’s and pull him in, when the android surprised him yet again.

“But I can’t.” He said quickly.

“Because, you don’t know how?” Hank sure fucking did, and if that was all this was about, he was prepared to take Connor around the block with more pleasure than he could even handle.

“Because, I can’t.” He said flatly.

There was this finality in Connor’s voice, and Hank knew this was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

He furrowed his brow, more than a little concerned, but not knowing what to say.

Then Connor was reaching for his hand and moving to put it somewhere Hank nearly had a 2 second crisis over.

Between his *legs*, *just like that*.

Curling his fingers over Hank’s so that they cupped around him and underneath where Hank had imagined a pair of balls would be.

Except....

“*Fuck*, Connor.”

Actually that hadn’t been what Hank wanted to say. Nothing else would come out, though.

“I-I mean-“

“I know.” He said shortly, and this must be how he’d felt when Hank had taken that tone with him about being shirtless.

Only, Hank really *didn’t* have a problem with this.

“No, hey, I don’t mean it like that.” He actually felt stupid for using Connor’s exact wording, too, but he couldn’t explain himself clearly.

There were a million new things to process with this information-overwhelming him.

“I know.” Connor said again, sounding very unconvinced.

Hank was going to protest again, but then he realized Connor was moving his hand away, and it was just Hank’s.

Cupping him in the place between those creamy, speckled thighs he’d seen briefly when dressing.

He wished he’d looked harder at what Connor was packing at the time, if only to avoid making him feel like this, now. But, Hank had been fiercely committed to keeping his eyes to himself. What a fight that’d been.

But, holy shit. Here he was, now. *Holding* him. *Caressing* him.

“Hank?” It came out rather weakly, but mostly just confused.

Hank brought his attention back to Connor and those big, brown eyes, as he quickly drew his hand away.
“Sorry! Sorry! Uh...”

Connor pinched his brows together. That’s not exactly the reaction he’d been expecting.

Hank had lingered....

“Sorry, Con. Um....so this is what you needed to tell me?”

Connor wet his lips. There was no keeping the blue from flushing his cheeks, though he took some comfort in seeing the red in Hank’s.

“‘Cause, ‘cause- fuck.” Why was it so hard to speak?

No wonder Connor had struggled with this.

Hank cleared his throat.

“If *this* was all you needed to tell me, you should know that I don’t *need*, uh, *that* to make this work. I don’t need to do *that* with you for me to be happy.”

Connor scowled.

It felt like there was something loose rattling around in his chest, but a quick diagnostic came up blank.

He didn’t doubt that that was true. Hank’s heart rate seemed a bit elevated, but it was only because of how he’d been touching him.

That spot was an intimate one for humans, regardless of what Connor was lacking.

But, he believed him. If Hank said he didn’t need that in order to be happy, then he wasn’t saying so for Connor’s benefit.

And maybe that meant Hank felt a little bit more attached to Connor than simply ‘liking’ him.

The thought was doing something to Connor he didn’t know he could have happen to him.

He felt much more strongly about Hank than just liking him, too, but for Hank to return those feelings were.... they were...

Well, they’d be the most freeing, exciting, immaculate feelings in all of his existence, if Connor wasn’t about to ruin them with his own.

The fact was, he was more than a little unsatisfied about not taking this somewhere. He cursed himself for being so selfish, for being such a hypocrite with Hank’s loyalty and being so superficial. He cared for Hank more than just doing, um, *that* with him.

But, Connor couldn’t help it. He just wanted ti do *more* with Hank *so* badly....

How he wanted it, though, *that* was the problem. That is what Connor was having trouble telling him. It was more than just seeing where some kissing and heavy petting would take them.

It needed discussing, unfortunately. It wasn’t just the natural progression of things. It wasn’t as easy as someone shoving their hand down the other’s pants and tugging.

For Connor to have more, Hank would have to know how to give that to him. But, would he turn away if he did?

Connor let his head fall back against the sofa, his eyes slipping shut. The breath Hank had been holding in deflated in his chest, and he was back to feeling more worried than anything.

“I think we’re over thinking this.” He murmured, well aware that Connor was the one doing all the thinking.

Hank was running off feeling alone here. He could love Connor beyond the blank space between his legs, but Connor didn’t seem to think so. Why else did he look like that?

Stressed and anxious and probably wondering how long before Hank kicked him out for someone who could satisfy him. They’d had fights about similar things before, so why not this?

Especially this, actually, as sex was supposed to be one of the staples for a couple to function-

“I’m not. I’ve already thought about it.”

Hank’s fingers flexed. He turned his attention back to Connor, looking him over- though, he was no more certain of what he found there.

Connor swallowed.

“I’ve thought the whole thing, through. If I can be honest with you, Hank,”

“*Please*.”

“I *do* want to have sex.”

There. One of them had finally said it.

Hank felt his stomach nearly drop out. It was now impossible to remain calm from here.

“I want to have sex with you.” Connor said it again with much more conviction, and a brewing, blue flush followed the confession.

He chewed harder on his lower lip.

“How do we...make that happen?” Hank mumbled. He was officially running on autopilot here.

Truly, he had no idea what Connor had thought about *exactly*, and he didn’t know how they were supposed to manage it now that he *knew* what was down there.

But, the guy he’d been steadily falling harder and harder for, who’d talked him off a cliff every time things became too much, and Hank needed someone- the guy who rubbed his shoulders and murmured soft, sweet things in his ears as they fell asleep-

just told him he wanted to have sex with him.

*Connor* wanted to have *sex* with *him*.

There were butterflies in his stomach.

Hank knew he was going to have trouble trying to stay neutral. The flutters and flips inside him were too distracting to be diplomatic right now.

“It’s weird.” Connor reiterated what he had been trying to explain earlier.

That wanting to have sex, and *how* he wanted to, were what was keeping him so hung up before. Apparently, it was strange, unconventional....maybe kinky.

Hank tried to encourage him with a shaky, little nod.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to, as the redirection of blood flow Connor could no doubt see was proof enough he wanted him to continue.

Connor was going to tear his synthetic skin in his teeth if he chewed his lip any harder.

“I have sensors in my mouth.” He said almost too quietly. He thought he’d feel better finally getting it out there, as Hank would no doubt catch on rather quickly. But, Connor felt infinitely more anxious- the tension building in his gut. Saying it was just so *much*.

Hank was inching forward, pushing down the unbearable heat in his belly and trying to stay focused.

“It’s not just about the s-sensors.” Connor stuttered out, his eyes catching on the tent in Hank’s boxers. They did nothing to hide what was in there, and Connor was in *trouble*.

Oh, yes he’d thought about this alright. And, now, the item of his atrocious affection, his horribly perverted fantasies that touched just shy of being sinful, was sitting right in front of him. Filling with blood, warm blood, and laying in Hank’s lap.

He shivered violently. A heat catching in his wires and making his fans feel clogged.

How many times had Connor thought about stroking his sensors on that?

*Tasting* it. The subtle slip of precum pushing from that thick, cut head and coating Connor’s receptors.

“Fuck, Connor.” Hank rumbled, smooth and deep, from low in his chest.

Connor buried his fingers into the cushions.

His head tilted back, as he allowed his dirty fantasies to fill his thoughts. Cloud his judgment. They weren’t even finished talking about this, yet

But, Hank had noticed the way he’d been looking at him. *Where* he’d been looking. Suddenly the couch felt too big and too small all at once.

He needed to lay Connor out, take this all in properly. Take *him* in properly, as Hank was seeing him in a whole new light.

Yet, he also needed him *closer*.

Hank didn’t shy away from checking him out, either. Now that the cards were all laid out, and there was little more than thin cotton keeping any modesty between them, Hank thought they’d finally reached a break through.

Connor’s face felt like it was scalding compared to the plastimetal’s usual temperature- cool and smooth to the touch.

“Shit.” Hank offered gracefully.
“Uhh, when you say you’ve got sensors in there, you’re *mouth* I mean...” he swallowed. It was a chore with his heart up in his throat like this.

“You mean to have, um, sex w-with it?”

Crude, but still very accurate.

Connor crushed his teeth into his lip.

Knowing what he did now, Hank wanted desperately to reach out, and stop him. It was a precious thing, and Hank could hardly comprehend what he had just learned about it.

He was supposed to give Connor *pleasure* from *there*...

Holy shit.

How was he....

*Holy shit*.

His cock gave an interested, little twitch. The flutter in his belly grew a hundredfold.

“Maybe we should go to the bedroom.” Hank murmured, though he didn’t recognize his own voice.

Connor agreed without protest, standing shakily to his feet and trying his damnedest to walk a straight line.

He turned and waited for Hank to follow- even though it’d been his own suggestion, he felt as if he was stuck to the couch.

He looked Connor up and down, looking briefly over the little swell of his ass and the sharp jut of his hips, before moving his way up to settle on the line of his lips.

He could hardly believe he was sizing Connor up *there*, looking over his *mouth* and actually getting harder from it.

Slowly, he rose to follow him. The familiar feeling of a full, winding warmth in his belly. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

This wasn’t just about the excitement of promised pleasure. It wasn’t just the anticipation of feeling some friction- some much needed, dearly missed friction.

Connor’s soft, brown eyes looked up at him in such a way, as he sucked his bottom lip.

A sweet, adoring look. A loving look only meant for Hank to see, not seconds after shooting him one much dirtier. Those eyes watching his arousal.

Holy shit-

Hank was practically pushing them down the hallway now, dragging Connor by the hand with a whole new energy than before.

Connor was happy to be led.

There was so much excitement coursing through his wires, making his pump go wild. If he wasn’t so worried about what would happen from here, he’d be running Hank into the bedroom himself.

Sumo lay sprawled out below the bed, oblivious to his masters’ fumbling over Hank’s dirty clothes on the floor. Connor couldn’t be bothered by it, as he was about to add to the problem himself.

He wet his lips as they stood there at the foot of Hank’s bed, preparing himself for what he wanted to do next.

Hank wasn’t sure how comfortable Connor would be with undressing, now that he knew what was going on down there. He’d understand completely if he rather skip it.

To his surprise, Connor began unbuttoning his shirt, shucking it from his shoulders.

Beneath it were the hard lines of Connor’s thin figure. Smooth, pale skin tinged blue in some places and dotted with freckles.

Hank followed the path from between his ribs, a sharp little line of muscle going straight down to his naval. Looking incredibly inviting of Hank’s tongue with its little dip there, then down further. Down to where Connor’s long fingers worked deftly to undo his pants.

He pushed them over his legs.

Everything was smooth, not a bit of hair anywhere.

But, Hank was mesmerized by the way his boxers clung to his form. Pulling tight around his hips and loose around his...blank spot.

Hank sucked in a breath.

“Can I leave these on?” Connor’s voice came out all wrong- thick and scratchy with lust.

Hank stared longer than he meant to. The empty space between his legs looked alluring in an entirely different way that didn’t exactly make sense to him.

Connor said there was nothing there, and with a little bit more inspection, Hank could see that. But, he was still drawn to it, excited to have gotten Connor this far along. To see this much of him, even if there was nothing.

It was still a precious place.

“Hank? Can I?”

He snapped his attention back toward Connor, a ragged breath leaving him. He hoped Connor hadn’t mistaken his staring for something unsavory.

“Shit, yeah. I mean,” He moved closer, just an inch, so that Connor could see how very much invested he was in all of this- all of *him*.

“You can do whatever you want to do, alright? You don’t need my permission for anything.”

“What if I want it?” Connor asked nervously, fidgeting with the band of his boxers. Hank’s eyes followed the way his skin pinched up ever so slightly under its pulling.

“You do?” He murmured, unable to look away.
“For what?”

“For you to maybe...touch... my ass?”

“I.....” Hank stared at him like he’d just changed his skin to green. After a second Connor shyly cut his eyes away.
“Would that do anything for you?” Hank asked.

“I would derive pleasure from knowing you find it satisfactory.”

“Your *ass*?”

Connor nodded a bit tightly.
“And...it would feel pleasurable, yes.”

“Didn’t think you’d be in to me ogling you like that.”

Connor closed his eyes and hid the grim line of a smirk from him.

Hank had absolutely no possible clue how much Connor was *desperately* into that. No idea at all.

Hank moved forward and carefully fit a hand around Connor’s waist.

He wasn’t sure how low he should be going towards his hips and pressed his thumb into the dip of Connor’s navel to ground him. Keep his hand from wandering.

His other one touched the back of Connor’s thigh, bringing an immediate little hitch in Connor’s breathing from him.

Connor’s lashes fluttered as Hank slowly slid his hand up over the plushest part of his thigh and higher still into the padding of Connor’s ass. He couldn’t suppress a shudder as he pushed himself forward into Hank’s arms, and arched his bottom into his hand.

It was subtle, but he couldn’t hide it from Hank, even with such tiny, precise, machine-like grace.

“Fuck Connor.” He drawled. It was obviously meant to be a compliment, Hank admiring and praising the shape of his ass. Tight and perky.

He absolutely could not resist himself from giving it a couple of little slaps, gaging it’s bounce. Connor felt himself blush, subjected like a toy for Hank’s sexual approval.

He *adored* it.

“Yeah, this is really something to be proud of. How lucky am I?” Hank ducked his head to murmur it right into Connor’s ear. The scratch of his beard, the way his voice rumbled through him...Connor shivered. This was infinitely better than a life limited to just kissing.

This was so, unbelievably *better*.

Hank pulled him closer by his ass, completely carnal and crude. Right into his rockhard cock.

“O-oh!” Connor gasped, mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape. It was instinct, his body readying itself for where it wanted Hank to stick it.

When had Connor let himself become so lustful? Hank threw fuel on the fire.

“Yeah? You feel that?” He grinned, completely unabashed.

Connor pushed his head into Hank’s chest and nodded. Shame flushing the back of his neck.

“Hank?” He murmured into his shirt. He felt fingers lacing through his hair, stroking short nails in little circles along his scalp.

It was incredibly hard for Connor to focus on getting his point across.

“Hank?” He said again.

He jumped when a little squeeze on his ass cheek reassured him Hank was listening. Not the encouragement he was looking for, but it did stave some of his embarrassment with its playfulness.

He pulled away and scowled at him.

“Would you undress, *please*? I feel...vulnerable.”

Of course, he felt vulnerable- for more reasons than just his clothes missing. But, Hank couldn’t help but tease him a little. All the blood in his dick was muting his sensibilities.

“If I take my shirt off, will that be too distracting?”

“I can handle it.” Connor grumbled. Truthfully, he didn’t know how much more of any of this he could handle. There was a heat in his ‘gut’ and these extremely ‘vivid’ thoughts swarming his brain. Overwhelmed was an understatement.

And, he’d just undressed in front of his boyfriend for really the first time. Connor was holding on by a thread.

Thankfully, Hank didn’t tease him again. As much as he wanted to appear to keep his cool, there was nothing that could possibly calm him, now.

*Connor* was standing right in front of him, almost *naked*.

Hank pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it to the ground on top of Connor’s.

His response was immediate.

The android sucked in a breath, just loud enough for Hank to hear it.

His eyes quickly roamed over the expanse of flesh before him, not knowing where to settle first. There was that scar on his side, slinking angry, red flesh across his thick belly.
And then there was that particular trail of hair, just a bit thicker than the rest, leading *down*.

It vanished below the band of Hank’s boxers, and Connor found himself imagining, not for the first time, where the smattering of hair stopped at. *If* it stopped.

Connor couldn’t suppress a shiver in his shoulders.

A new rush of warmth washed over his sensors from head to toe, and his head tilted back, again.

It was like his body was trying to expose itself.

Hank practically growled at him.

“So? Is it too distracting?”

“Not too badly.” Connor lied.
“I’ll be able to focus on my mission.”

“Your mission?” He stepped forward, toe to toe with the smaller man. They were nearly the same height and something about those long, lithe legs that went impossibly high did something to his cock.

Maybe it was the thought of them wrapped around him, *keeping* him there between them.

“Yes.” Connor murmured.
“My mission to see you satisfied.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Hank sounded a lot less affected by this than he was. He had no doubt Connor could see the truth with his scanners.

“Well, should I get on the bed, then?”

The ball was in Connor’s court. Hank would go wherever he wanted him, and gladly. He seemed to think about it, obviously knowing something that Hank didn’t.

For this to move forward, Connor would have to enlighten him.

He shuffled his feet, looking nervously between Hank’s face, trying to predict his reaction, and the floor.

“Honestly, I think....are you alright with standing?”

Yes, anything. Anything and everything for his boy.

Hank dipped his head to nibble at his neck.
“Sure, darlin’.”