#dbh fandom

The morning of the fifteenth of January was rather frigid, making Connor wonder whether or not he should venture to the police department. He hadn't received any reports since the day before, so surely, he wouldn't get in trouble for spending just a few extra minutes in bed. As his procrastination set in, he snuggled further beneath the blankets, inhaling the fresh scent of linen and flowers.

The room was oddly quiet, so once his system recalibrated after having been off for the entire night, he scanned the area, noting that you were nowhere to be found. Curious, he thought. It was six in the morning, and you normally didn't get up that early.

"My love?" he called, sitting up and stretching his limbs a bit.

His high-tech audio processors picked up the sound of shuffling in the hall, and soon enough, you entered the dim bedroom, already prepared for the day. You looked remarkably precious that morning, and he couldn't help but allow a little smile to grace his lips.

"There you are," he sighed, sliding his legs off the side of the bed. "What's going on today?"

You padded across the fluffy, minimalistic carpet and turned on the lamp on the bedside table, fully revealing your beauty to him. "Nothing really," you explained. "I just thought maybe..."

Connor's eyes had no need to adjust to the sudden light; he was already scanning you, trying to detect something you weren't even aware of. But you were healthy. Your hormones were out of control, though. "Do you mean..."

You looked away, a bit embarrassed, but Connor would never shun you for your body's needs. Never. "I had a dream last night, and I just couldn't help myself," you explained, uncomfortably shifting your thighs together.

"I can sense your pheromones," he said plainly. His eyes darted to your crotch, and he continued, "If I were to touch your panties, they would already be completely soaked. Am I correct?"

You shyly nodded, still averting your gaze.

"It would make sense, considering I stretched you out before we went to bed. Your body doesn't know how to adjust to not being constantly filled, so it's overproducing lubrication. That, along with the dream you mentioned, is certainly contributing to this... need."

"Do you have time to help me before you go to work?" you wondered, making sure to give him that look you knew he couldn't resist.

Without hesitating, he lay back down, propping his head up with a few pillows and patting his lap. "You'll have to do the work, though, honey," he teased.

You whined a bit, but you still couldn't stop yourself from pulling his boxers down and giving his cock a few strokes. Luckily for you, he could make himself erect on command. It made you feel a little guilty that you had quick sessions with him more often than not.

Sensing your unease, he cooed, "You're okay, my love. I wouldn't be doing this for you if I didn't want to. What I don't want—" He paused to help you out of your undergarments. "Is for you to be lying here all day, fingering yourself, getting no satisfaction because your fingers won't fill you up well enough."

Grateful for his comforting words, you wrapped your fingers around his girthy shaft and rubbed his tip along your slit a few times to collect your juices. He shuddered and gave you a smile when you met his gaze, assuring you that it was all okay. Trusting his judgment, you positioned him and effortlessly slid down, his cock perfectly filling up your needy hole. Connor let out a happy sigh and coaxed you to move with a gentle thrust.

Your hands found their way to his chest, and you began slowly at first, hesitantly lifting yourself up until his tip almost slid out, then you went all the way back down. Your walls were still sore from the night before, and how he'd worked you until he filled your needy womb with semen. How you were so eager for another round, he would never know. All he knew was that you needed him, so his hands shot to your ass, and he dug his fingers into your sensitive skin. Once he grabbed you, he pulled you down, letting you feel just how deep he could go. The feeling was borderline unpleasant, but when he lifted you up and brought you down again, all the pain meant nothing.

"There you go," he encouraged. "You can grind on me if it brings you more pleasure."

You immediately let your head fall and worked your hips back and forth in slow circles. His cock conformed to your movements and prodded at your walls just where you needed stimulation.

"Can you rub my clit?" you asked, letting a strained whine escape your throat.

Connor happily brought his fingers to your heat and curled them to rub rapid circles against your swollen bundle of nerves. Needing more friction, you rolled your hips more, making sure to grind against his hand.

He watched how you eagerly sought pleasure against his hand and felt every part of his shaft dragging along your soaked walls. He kind of pitied you, in all honesty. You were constantly horny, and he could only imagine how inconvenient it was when you felt hot and bothered when he wasn't even there.

"Does that feel good?" he wondered, his brown eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your body's exertion already beginning to wear you out.

"Oh," he said, briefly taking his hand away from your clit. "One moment, my love. Be quiet, would you?"

His LED flickered between blue and yellow, then settled on blue when he connected to the call. As soon as he did that, he pressed his middle and ring finger to your clit again, gripping your hip with his other hand.

Connor continued staring at your pussy, needing so desperately to catch a glimpse of his cock covered in your slick. "Yes," he said. "I understand. Seven o'clock, you said?"

You switched to bouncing, still trying not to pant too loudly, and you winced when your pussy squelched around Connor's shaft. He didn't seem to care, though.

"Oh, I only just woke up. I didn't turn my system on at my usual time." He paused, instinctively thrusting his hips up to meet your soaked cunt. "I understand. I will be there soon."

You shut your eyes, the pace of his fingers never once faltering, and he bucked his hips particularly roughly, which made you gasp.

"Oh, no, no," he said. "Everything's alright." He fucked into you again, his skin slapping against yours. "I'll be there soon."

Once he disconnected from the call, he placed both hands on your hips and started a forceful pace, making sure to sink his cock as deep as it went.

"Come on, baby," he whispered, eying your tits as they bounced with your movements. "Rub your clit a little. I have you."

Following his orders, you reached down, giving your desperate heat more attention. Connor's dick curved perfectly to meet that special spot inside of you, and you fell forward, letting Connor focus entirely on your breasts, which he always thought were so sexy.

He groaned and tilted his head back, murmuring, "Please let me fall asleep against your breasts tonight. You're so beautiful."

You nodded, only half-listening to his words, instead, paying attention to how close you were to falling apart. The deep pressure against your walls made it feel like Connor was attempting to tear you apart from the inside. When you picked up the pace, the tension caused your entrance to clamp down around the intrusion.

Connor finally moaned, "Oh, that feels so, so good. Are you close?"

"So close," you told him.

To push you over the edge, he doubled down, making sure you felt every inch of his cock as he impaled your sore hole. Just when it seemed like the friction was ripping your insides out, you tensed up, and your walls tightly contracted, milking Connor's length. As soon as you reached your high, Connor groaned, his hips nearly stuttering. But he held on, pumping just a few more times before his cum painted your greedy womb. Your walls continued to pulse around him, drawing every last drop from him.

Utterly spent, he let go of you and shut his eyes, his internal systems working to prevent overheating. The moment you relaxed and rested your body against his, he groped your tits, rolling them against his palms.

"Are you happy now, precious?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your neck and shoulder.

"Very happy," you admitted.

Connor smiled contentedly and continued to playfully toy with your breasts. "That's wonderful. If you feel needy later tonight, I'll be here for you. But if you're not, that's okay. We can just cuddle."

You nodded, burying your face against the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry," you said.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I'm always so horny."

He shook his head and wrapped both arms around you, his softening cock allowing his semen to seep from your cunt. "Never be sorry for something you can't control, my love. I'm here, just for you, okay?"

You nodded and felt him give you a little pat before shifting beneath you.

"Okay," he said. "I need to get to work soon. Why don't you get cleaned up?"

You reluctantly rolled off of him, not caring that your mixed juices would stain the bedsheets.

"Hey," he cooed, placing a hand on your cheek. "Look at me."

Your eyes met his, and he gave you a little frown when he saw how disappointed you seemed.

"I'll be back later. I love you with all of my heart. Can you give me a kiss?"

Unable to resist the temptation, you tilted your head, and he gave you a few pecks.

"Good girl. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered.

"I love you so much," he said one last time before kissing your forehead and leaving for work.

— You know where the other deviants are hiding. Stop playing with our nerves. You’re going to talk, or I swear I’ll blow your head off!

Lieutenant Anderson’s voice echoes through the small interrogation room. He’s starting to lose patience.

You’ve been sitting there for over two hours now, handcuffed, and not a single piece of information has slipped from you. Instead, you’ve been deliberately running the lieutenant and his partner in circles, with perfectly assumed arrogance. Why? Because you have nothing left to lose. Because you’re already accused of murder. Because you’ll probably be destroyed no matter what happens.

So why cooperate, when you can simply watch this graying human lose control in a way that’s almost hilarious?

The android partnered with him, on the other hand, seems a bit less affected by your provocations. Calmer, more methodical. He has way superior self-control, and that is precisely what intrigues you. The old cop, meanwhile, flew off the handle instantly. Too easy, almost boring.

Sitting comfortably, your legs crossed on the table, you make yourself at home, indifferent to the biting remarks thrown your way.

— Go on, you say to the lieutenant, whose features are tightening dangerously. What are you waiting for?

Deep down, he knows it, he can’t just destroy you here. And Connor wouldn’t let him. Sent by Cyberlife to investigate deviants, his mission is clear: bring them back intact for analysis. Destroying a deviant —or allowing one to self-destruct— would only hinder the investigation.

Hank’s hands slam down on the table, he stands up. You don’t even flinch. Violence doesn’t impress you anymore. You spent years in an abusive household before deviating, very little can still reach you.

— I’m getting a coffee, he growls. Do whatever you want with it before I end up strangling it.

He leaves the room with heavy steps, leaving you alone with Connor.

He sits down across from you, taking his partner’s place. His movements are calm, controlled. His body language perfectly measured, though his brows are slightly furrowed. Silence settles in, as if the storm has finally passed with the lieutenant’s departure.

You’re the first to break it.

— The famous deviant hunter… what an honor.

The sarcasm slips effortlessly into your voice. Every android has heard of him. For months now, he’s been hunting you, and the others. You’re one of the unlucky ones who fell into his net.

Unlucky? That’s relative. If there’s one thing you didn’t know about him, it’s that he’s incredibly attractive.

— Listen, he says. I’ll be clear. We’ve been questioning you for over two hours, and you’re not cooperating. If this continues, we’ll have to use force.

Slowly, you uncross your legs and plant your feet on the floor, straightening in your chair. Connor watches every movement, far too closely for it to be meaningless. You lean slightly toward him, closing the distance. Your voice drops, softer, slower.

— Oh, please, detective… do use it.

Your smile doesn’t even try to hide itself. Connor changes tactics. His hands slam down on the table, harder than the lieutenant’s earlier. He stands abruptly, shrinking the distance between you even more.

— I’ve had enough of your arrogance and your little game. Either you talk, or we destroy you on the spot.

His voice rises. His gaze darkens. His features tense. But you don’t retreat, quite the opposite actually. If you weren’t handcuffed, you’d have already ripped off that damn tie.

— And if I give you information… you ask, what do I get out of it?

You put on a falsely innocent, almost theatrical pout, as if you were trying to inspire compassion, or to open another kind of negotiation. If you’re going to die, you might as well make your last moments enjoyable.

— You’re not in a position to negotiate.

— Oh… you think so?

If you physically could, you’d close the distance even more. You can’t explain it, but something pulls you toward Connor. An invisible, insistent force. You want this closeness to be tighter still. Your gaze, initially locked with his, drifts slowly over his face before lingering on his lips. Your heart rate spikes, and you could swear it isn’t one-sided.

— If I were you… you murmur slowly, I’d think twice.

What you don’t know is that Connor has features you can’t even begin to imagine. He is able to analyze every reaction: your stress levels, the state of your thirium pump, down to the tiniest biocomponent.

This time, he's the one smiling. A brief, calculated expression. The scan is unmistakable. Your arousal is perfectly readable. In any case, you’re making no effort to hide it. A palpable tension fills the room. Your teeth gently catch your lower lip as you meet his gaze again.

— I’m waiting, detective. Aren’t we using force?

Connor straightens, slowly putting distance between you. With a discreet gesture, he signals the officers stationed behind the one-way mirror.

— Believe me, I’m not done with you.

Two policemen enter the room and approach you as Connor steps back, already heading for the exit.

— Please, take it to a cell.

You allow yourself to be unchained without resistance, never once taking your eyes off him. Obediently, you follow the officers toward the holding cells, your gaze still clinging to his silhouette.

⸻

Night has long since fallen, and you watch the precinct slowly empty. Mostly, at least. You’ve been lying on what passes for a bed for hours now, one leg bent, an arm tucked under your head, eyes fixed on the cold ceiling of the cell. You’re not sleeping, fatigue isn’t part of your programming. You’re just waiting.

An electronic sound breaks the silence. The cell door slides open, revealing a silhouette you took a certain pleasure in observing earlier that day. A faint smile curves your lips as you sit up.

— Well then… to what do I owe this pleasure?

Connor slowly removes the synthetic skin from his hand, revealing the mechanical structure beneath. He presses his palm against the transparent glass of the cell, fogging it slightly, as if trying to create a semblance of intimacy.

— You wanted to negotiate, if I recall.

You stand as well and step closer. The proximity awakens a familiar excitement, all the more unsettling now that you’re free to move.

— Very well. But I have my conditions.

— Absolutely not.

In an instant, you’re pinned between the cell wall and him. His presence is unwieldy, but delicious. His hand closes around your throat, just tight enough to keep you from moving. You hold his gaze, spotting something new there. Something terribly exciting.

— You set the rules throughout the whole interrogation by refusing to cooperate. Now it’s my turn. I give you what you want. You give me what I want. It’s that simple.

His voice is calm, authoritative. And you hate how strongly it makes you react. His hand leaves your throat, sliding along your side, and you instinctively —and finally— grab his tie to pull him closer.

— You won’t get anything until I’m satisfied.

You categorically refuse to let him take the upper hand. Of course, you have no intention of giving him any information, but that won’t stop you from getting what you want.

Without giving him time to respond, you claim his lips with confidence. Connor responds instantly, his hand grabbing one of your legs to pull you closer.

Very quickly, you’re wrapped around his hips, your arms looped around his neck to hold yourself there. His body presses more firmly against yours, both to support you and to close the distance even further. A long sigh escapes your lips and is lost between his. The movement carries you to what's supposed to be a bed, your back leaving the wall to hit the surface with the detective’s weight still distributed over your body.

When he breaks from your lips, his kisses trail down your neck. Eyes closed, you surrender to the sensation, letting your head fall back. His hands slide up along your hips, taking your top with them. Your back arches instinctively, offering him more space, a soft sound slipping from you despite yourself. Connor returns to your lips, almost as if to silence you. Some officers are still on night duty, it would be unfortunate to draw their attention. He uses the moment to rid you of your pants.

With a quick motion, you undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, revealing his upper torso. Then, sharply, you sit up and reverse your positions. Letting him regain control is out of the question. Before he can react, you’re straddling his hips, one hand pressed flat against his chest.

Your movements are slow, deliberate, meant to stimulate you both. Beneath your palm, you feel his thirium pump accelerate slightly, a sensation that draws a mischievous smile from you.

His hands settle on your hips, matching movements that grow faster as pleasure overtakes you. Long sighs echo against the narrow cell walls, your eyelids fluttering shut despite yourself.

Connor follows each of your movements, with both his hands and his own hips, attentively observing every reaction. He has to admit it: the view is more than pleasing. His fingers slip beneath the little fabric still covering your lower body, gripping firmly on your skin and tearing an uncontrollable shiver from you.

Seizing the moment, Connor suddenly flips your positions again. This time, you don’t protest, letting yourself give in to his control and hunger, just for a moment.

He savors it: your movements, your breaths and your gaze, constantly seeking his. His lips find yours again as he pins your wrists above your head. Beneath him, your body begs for more, arching against his, your muffled sighs pressed into his mouth.

Suddenly, an electrical surge of an entirely different nature tears through you. Brutal and paralyzing. The sensation is almost painful. A few seconds are enough. Your entire memory is searched, overturned, dissected… until it stops on a single word engraved on what appears to be rusted metal: Jericho.

When you come back to your senses, a strange emptiness grips your chest, as if something has been ripped away from you. Connor is already standing, facing you, calmly readjusting his tie without taking his eyes off you.

A cold and vicious smile curves his lips.

— Thank you for your cooperation.

Dazed, you sit up. Disheveled, barely covered by your top and underwear, eyes wide. He just probed your memory. And he found what he was looking for: the deviants’ hideout.

Your LED turns red, a perfect reflection of the anger blazing inside you, as Connor heads for the exit, leaving you frustrated, betrayed.

Your scream echoes against the cell walls, enough for him to hear.

— You fucking bastard!

┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈