His back hits the wall hard, brown hues widening as they take in the RK900 model. He looks angry, angrier than usual. The androidās hand curls into Connorās hair, a leg pushing itself between trembling thighs. āI⦠I can explain.ā Except he canāt explain, thereās no way to explain the events that the 900 saw. In answer the hand in his hair tightens, his head yanked backwards to expose a pale throat to the silently seething android before he attacks Connorās throat with lips and teeth, conveying to the RK800 that he was his,his, h i s.
Heās not angry with Connor - not really. Except that he is. Heās angry and heās jealous and it turns him toxic. Connor, gorgeous and soft attracts people in a way that he does not. He has been designed to be intimidating - two full inches taller - with a lower brow and a thicker neck - he silently screams donāt touch me. And those who are brave enough to touch him anyway soon learn a painful lesson. Connor - unwittingly or not - invites it with his open face and friendly nature and when one of those stinking meat sacks takes it too far and actually starts laying hands on him? Heās too polite to stop them.
Which wouldnāt be so bad if he didnāt know how RK900 felt about them - how he felt about their dirty hands anywhere near Connor. They acted so swaggering and superior when really all they really were was inferior. Androids were smarter, faster, more attractive and just better. The fact that Connor lets it happen is disrespectful towards himself - and to RK900.
He wants to mark him - claim him as his own - hence the biting and sucking - heāll keep going until the other android is blue and purple with his attention. Body crushing up against the smaller model, he growls a little against the synthetic skin. He wants to remind Connor of exactly what heād be missing out on should he decide to downgrade
āExplain then, Connor.ā He demands, lifting his head, releasing Connorās neck from his teeth, and his hair from his fingers - if only for a second. Heās not done he decides as he seizes Connor by the neck - hard enough that weāre Connor a human heād be choking - hard enough to drive Connors sensors haywire at the threat of having his head pulled off. His eyes, as he stares down at Connor are like ice - and itās clear his patience already worn thin might give at any second.