Connor/Hank – choking; tit appreciation; dirty talk – Connor finally has Hank on his back.

---

“C-Conn… uh…” It’s so difficult to speak both with how Hank is folded up and with how little air he’s getting into his lungs.

He is flushed and embarrassed, feeling stupid with his feet in the air and knees somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulders. He hadn’t even known he was still so flexible, his back curved and ass in the air as a result of that. His belly is awkwardly in the way, big and substantial. It doesn’t scrunch up as cute as Connor’s does when Hank folds him into the same position.

His feet aren’t as pretty as Connor’s when they bounce in the air. His face isn’t as alluring when he’s flushed a splotchy red and sweating.

All in all, he feels… stupid. Ungainly. He doesn’t exactly want Connor to see him like this and is squirming vaguely, but he has no leverage like this. He’s short of breath and helpless as Connor leans over him, his LED cycling a comfortable blue again and again and again. Hypnotizing.

“Are you alright, Hank?” Connor queries, voice well-modulated and seemingly only mildly curious. He is so close, the tips of their noses are almost brushing. Hank swallows. It’s difficult. His thoughts are whirling like Connor’s LED. Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Before he can speak, Connor continues: “Do you like spreading your legs like a lady, Hank? I think it suits you.”

Red.

Hank stares at him, mouth slightly agape. Has Connor… as he said-

“Your tits are quite nice, too. I am very partial to them.”

Connor’s docile, brown eyes flick down, staring at Hank’s chest; whorls of white hair cushioning what are already pretty soft pecs. Connor grabs for one, fingers splayed, squeezing obscenely, and Hank chokes on his goddamn spit.

Red, red, red. His own brain is stalling, he can’t get it to spur into action, not when Connor is above him, humming softly, LED a tranquil blue as he lowers his head and sucks one fat nipple into his pretty peach pink mouth.

One of Hank’s legs kicks uselessly in the air. Neither of them really registers. Connor is sucking, getting the nipple engorged and obscene while Hank is trying not to choke on his own spit.

When Connor finally pulls off with a lewd pop that has Hank’s face flaming, he feels faint. He can only stare at the android, obediently opening his mouth when he offers him two fingers, then immediately regretting it when they press down on his tongue and slide deep, deep, deep.

“I like your mouth,” Connor tells him, fingers sliding across Hank’s slippery tongue, gliding deep, playing with his gag reflex and watching how the Lieutenant’s face flushes a slightly alarming shade of red.

“I heard Detective Reed call my mouth a perfect cocksucker mouth. But I think he is wrong.” Connor tilts his head, the hand on Hank’s tit squeezing once again as if in parting, then sliding up and curling around the Lieutenant’s throat. “You have a lewd mouth, Lieutenant.”

Hank is gagging again and again, the hand on his throat constricting his oxygen intake just so. His eyeballs are pulsing with the quick, frantic beating of his heart, his cock echoing the pulses as if in sympathy, sticky pre-cum smearing against the lower curve of his belly.

He wants to say something, but he can’t. There is darkness crowding into his vision and all he can think about is how damnably hard and needy he is. How much he wants but can’t curl up his ass and fuck against Connor’s belly.

Connor’s head tilts. He looks like a puppy, his LED shortly flickering into yellow for the first time, then his hand just barely lets up some, allowing Hank to pull in a deep breath past the fingers pressing down on his tongue and keeping his mouth nice and wide open for Connor’s viewing pleasure.

Whatever the fuck he gets out of that.

He wants to tell him to give him more; to choke him until he’s blacking out – and where do those thoughts come from? – but all he manages is a pathetic, high-pitched whine.

Connor scrutinizes him for a moment longer, then smiles slow and magnanimous. He pulls his fingers out of Hank’s mouth, coated thick in spit, and flicks them painfully against one of Hank’s nipples.

“Show me your tits, Lieutenant. Maybe I’ll be inclined to help you out.”

Hank stares at him heavy-lidded, feeling the android’s hand still on his throat, constricting but not squeezing, and he reaches down; pushes against his soft pectorals until they are squeezed together like… like… well… a nice pair of tits.

Connor just watches, face unreadable, taking in the thick grey hair and the embarrassingly fat nipples… and then suddenly everything is very quick.

Connor surging down, his white, even teeth clamping hard around one of Hank’s nipples, biting just this side of bearable the hand on his throat starts squeezing again, and the other… oh the other has rudely and suddenly stuffed him full of two fingers, still so very slick with his own spit.

He’s fucking him, quick and dirty, finger blasting his ass like he would do for a lady, and Hank has stars exploding in his vision, cock jerking, pulsing, having a false start, then suddenly jerking out thick, creamy strings of cum while Hank’s toes cramp in the air and he shakes through all of it.

Blessedly, his brain decides to stay offline for a bit.