[ juno stares at a single crack in the ceiling, hairline. it spins a little left and right as he examines it - shallow, barely there, visible only because the theia can close in on it and look it up and down. it's murmuring something about beats per minute, blood pressure, foreign... something? something... inside of him. it's asking for permission, but juno squints further at the crack in the ceiling as a shadow moves up beside where he's laying down, familiar silhouette, soft blue light glimmering a little in his peripherals.
no.
no this is fine. it's nice. connor's here. it's whatever.
he doesn't remember how he got "here" in the first place, wherever "here" is, just that he's here, breathing heavily, feeling flush and too hot, tight in his clothing, shifting on a bed that doesn't feel like his because it's too nice. he swears maybe two hours ago he was investigating a case in the red light district - not exactly the best place to be lingering on occasion, but someone had to do it right? the rest of it... well the rest of it's hinky. he remember connor offering to taste? his drink? can robots even taste? why would he even want to? he's been in contact with this client for months now, helping out around the area, why the fuck would anything be off now?
god he's hot.
he blinks upwards heavily, the theia droning on, the crack in the ceiling seeming to stretch even though it definitely doesn't get any bigger in reality. he reaches fingers up to pull at the collar of his shirt, flicks open a few buttons with a laugh because the smooth shifting of the fabric parting on his chest feels nice, cool air touching his skin and then going warm again. he's so goddamn warm.
a hand slaps out to touch neatly pleated fabric of a familiar jacket, thumb the line of perfect seams, touch something in the shape of an R... and a K.
he laughs, and it sounds less like a gunshot, more like water pinging off glass.
he fists fabric in his hand, tugs the jacket, turning his head a little and seeing connor there, looking.
well.
he looks like he always does, maybe with his brows a little more knit and his mouth slightly thinner, but he's still connor. and he tugs hard. ]
Hey. Hey.
[ another tug, reaching out with his second hand and twisting on wherever he's laid down to push at the other lapel while his first hand pulls. the aim is to shove it off connor's shoulders, to see if he'll let him in the first place because like.
computers overheat right? they get hot? and it's getting warmer in here by the second. ]
he accompanies juno because he thinks he could use the backup. or at least that's the reason he gives, often and loudly because the truth is that he's terribly bored. connor wasn't programmed to deal well with sitting idly, and even if it isn't programming that demands he get up and act, its a hard habit to break.
so connor accompanies juno to the red light district because he misses investigations, and it turns out to be pretty interesting. it soothes the itch to do something that has eaten at him ever since arriving here, and honestly he's good at it. he's helpful, and useful, and curious -
and really goddamn stupid.
connor can't taste but he asks to try the drink anyway, because he's curious and because he can. it's fun, in a way, doing all these little things that his programming would have previously prevented him from discovering. he'd never know what juno's weird drink "tastes" like, or at least how it registers in his sensors - a little more viscous than a liquid would normally be, but not wholly unpleasant - and they move on quite quickly.
except it's around there that things got weird.
connor isn't overheating because he can't overheat, with a complex system of fans and vents and other cooling processes integrated into his body it's nearly impossible. instead connor is registering pop ups all across his UI, so many that it's hard to see clearly. they're cropping up faster than he can dismiss them, inane observations about the room they occupy and the environment and about juno.
he doesn't dismiss the ones about juno.
he can seeeverything, information about core temperature and heart rate and blood pressure registering somewhere to the left of his vision, and a connor with a clear mind would probably be able to analyse the situation quite easily. but connor can feel the rush of thirium running through his system fast enough that he can hear it, and when juno grabs his jacket something in his mind goes blank. )
Hi.
( it's hardly the most eloquent response, but then again he can hardly expect to be eloquent right now. he stutters forward slightly but doesn't fall, and when juno starts pushing at the shoulders he drops them slightly. enough that the jacket slides down to his forearms.
when he pulls it off completely he takes a moment to carefully fold the clothing before he puts it down, and then he loosens his tie slightly. guy is practically naked. )
It's not hot in here, ( he comments in a passive voice, a little lower than normal, and he reaches out to press a hand flat against juno's chest. ) it's you. You're...warmer than normal. Hot.
[ it takes a blink to register both the weight and temperature of connor's palm against his chest. juno takes a soft gasp, ribs expanding a little as he feels synthetic skin against his own - as real-feeling as anything. it feels... good. good enough that once connor's jacket is gone, he's tugging a little at his shirt now. it wrinkles where juno grabs, untucks, musses.
hot. ]
You think you're funny.
[ it's not unkindly said, rather, still in that somewhat dreamy voice that juno has seldom, if ever, used in front of connor. he pulls, lets fingers catch in his belt, wandering the line of it, not quite tugging yet simply thumbing the material of it idly as he shifts under the hand, looks down at it. connor's skin is a vast contrast to his own - pale and unmarked saved for the occasional freckle dusting his knuckle. juno's skin dark and scattered with scars - a nick from a knife, a puckered gunshot wound. ]
C'mere... [ it cracks, curious, barely under his breath as he grabs connor's wrist slowly now, leaving one hand on his belt, letting his fingers slide a little against his own, pulling from the center of his chest over a little. he likes that feeling, his skin sliding over his, fingers touching, spread out. he rests connor's hand over his heart, trying to punch its way out of his chest with every second, leaping up into his throat.
his mouth waters a little, and he swallows, finding connor's eyes. the theia remains steady, pupil undilated, glittering green and a number of other colors, while his organic eye stays dark and wide.
juno wets his lips. ] Feels real good... can you put your other hand on me too?
[ he his body shifts closer and he reaches out to grab at fingers that aren't doing anything important. he clutches them in his own and brings them close. doesn't know where to put them so he rests them on his throat where his pulse is fluttering eagerly, breath coming a little faster now. ]
( he counters the comment quickly, though he forgets the comments almost as immediately as he responds.
a few buttons have come undone in juno's efforts and connor feels...strange. he'd initially come to stand next to the bed out of concern as juno's vitals started spiralling out of control, but now connor is kneeling next to him and it seems like there's miles between them still.
( he knows this isn't so. it's actually 3.2 centimetres from his knee to juno's hips.
but it doesn't feel that way. )
connor catches the hand that's grabbing for his fingers and squeezes it briefly in his own. his knuckles brush against juno's throat before he releases his hand, and he moves from barely grazing to gently curling his fingers around juno's neck. he doesn't squeeze, barely even puts pressure to touch, but it's just. there. )
Tell me what you're feeling.
( the request - order? - comes out entirely unprompted. connor doesn't even register the words before he blurts them out, and the hand at juno's chest pulls away only long enough to undo the last few buttons on his shirt. he's still kind of overdressed but he doesn't notice, just stares at juno's exposed skin and then his own.
there's no reflection of connor's past on his skin, no evidence of the wounds he's received or the life he has lived. the scars on juno's skin captivate him, and his hand drops down to run along each scar that he can see. connor's supposed to be perfect, but this-
this seems closer to perfection than anything cyberlife has managed to produce. )
[ that's not a question. it didn't have the cadence of once and it's music to juno's ears. his head tilts a little, neck tilting against connor's fingers and palm as he watches him from his place on the bed, his own fingers now down, uselessly flexing against the sheets as he tries to come up with the words. his eyes drag along connor's collar bones, against the plane of skin spattered with a constellation of freckles that seem too real to be synthetic in their haphazard scattering. he bites his lip and decides to put his own hands to use.
he hooks thumbs into his trousers and pulls down his hips, the jut of bone and curve of skin rising while the material slips low. ]
You gotta get closer to do that, genius... geez...
[ the last bit stammers out, a half rasp because the idea of connor touching him more sounds really fucking good. his body feels like it's overrun with some kind of fever, but he likes it. it makes his limbs heavy the way a nice whiskey might, so each motion is like pushing through honey, but in a nice way.
like time's fake, like there's no rush, like all he has to do is reach out and be met stroke for stroke. he wants more skin - his skin, connor's skin, so he kicks at his trousers to get them from where they're pooling around his ankles and reaches out to get his palms in line with the skin connor's waist, fingers pressing in, guiding further from where he's just kneeling (totally useless!) on the bed. ]
What kind of jerk keeps a lady waiting, huh?
[ flushed, voice thick with want, low and hungry, juno tries to pull him down, closer. connor's solid - all metal parts and wire, but he's trying, digging fingers in with desperation to move him if he'll deign to be moved. ]
( he has a snarky response generated somewhere, he's sure, it's just that right now connor can't quite find it. his programming is a mess of confusing and conflicting priorities, constantly shifting, and it's possibly the first time that he feels a longing for the simplicity of still being a machine.
but a machine would never be here. and right now he doesn't think he'd sacrifice that, confusion be damned.
his limbs are sluggish, barely noticeable to anyone but him but he can feel the slight drag as he moves his arm again. juno's pants drop and it's all indelicate and ungraceful, but connor's eyes drag down his body and appreciates each movement all the same.
it's a strange sort of attraction, but each imperfection draws him closer. that's what captivates him. )
Some say waiting is part of the appeal.
( there's a definite change in his voice. the sluggish quality has made its way to his vocal processor too, and left him with a voice lower than normal and more hushed, words murmured instead of ringing clear like normal.
connor pauses at the tug, but only long enough to pull his arms back and shed the clothes hanging off his shoulders. he hasn't dealt with the rest of his clothes at all yet, but his chest is bare at least, and when he moves in closer he's all in.
he swings a leg over, half straddling juno's hips, and he can't drop his weight on the human or he'll crush him but he comes in closer. the hand snakes back up, running his thumb against the pulsing artery in juno's neck before his fingers wrap around the throat again. he's not sure why, but there's a definite appeal to the way juno's throat bobs under his palm every time he swallows. )
Tell me how it feels. ( he asks again, and this time his hand slides up juno's side, fingers dragging, his eyes flicking between the scars on juno's chest with captivation. ) Please.
[ that's better. it's closer to what juno wants anyways. connor's hands are cool by contrast to the rest of his own body, which feels like someone's set him on a pyre and lit him up from head to heel. it's made all the warmer by the fact that he can feel the brush of connor's trousers against his hipbone, the way he thumbs at his pulse, slips fingers up his side like he's worth that little motion.
he almost completely loses himself to a sigh alone, but connor's desperate, low please gets him in the gut.
tell him how it feels?
that's easy.
or it should be, but his voice is straining a little because there's a heat coursing its way down his entire body. it started in his face, like a good bottle of whiskey, made its way down his chest like the burn, but keeps going lower into the pit of his belly, until he feels it now between his thighs where connor is hovering, dark trousers and all. ]
Hot... [ he swallows under connor's palm, feels where skin meets skin, throat trembling. ] Really hot... you've got nice hands... [ he presses towards that hand, stretches into it the way a dozy cat stretches towards the sun, except more desperate for it. common sense dictates to rub it out himself, but desire (so rarely listened to in the back of juno's mind) says that he's allowed to have a little fun once in a while. the theia has no say in it, just running low background processes, humming warmly in his eye, rolling a little up with his own as he closes his eyes and drags a hand down connor's bare arm.
he lingers on bicep and elbow, forearm, mapping out the shape until he finds the hand around his throat, splaying his fingers over it and grabbing the wrist. ] You okay?
[ an after thought, which juno doesn't mean for it to be, but he wants to know, that little conscious part of himself shifting a little uncomfortably to close casually spread legs before, heels digging in with uncertainty but without the strength in them to actually push off the bed and walk away. his own body traps him, heat and weight, desire, all writhing in the pit of his belly like vipers, snapping at his insides. ] Like really okay. Not bullshit okay.
( it's so easy to get caught up in the situation. connor's end of things is different, of course, because connor is different, but he still feels. he feels, feels feels, and that alone is such a bizarre concept it threatens to blow out his sensors entirely.
there's a buzz just under his synthetic skin at every point of contact, humming under his fingers and across his palm, and when juno moves along his arm it's all he can do to hold the skin intact.
his LED has shone a bright, pulsing yellow since they entered his room what feels like hours earlier but in reality was probably only half an hour ago.
juno grabs his wrist, and connor's eyes suddenly widen. the skin practically buzzes under juno's fingers, and his brows furrow a touch as he leans in closer. his hand drags up to move along his chest instead, catching on a scar and tracing it briefly before moving to repeat the gesture across a nipple. )
No bullshit. ( he echoes, shaking his head briefly before letting out an odd little noise that's a touch closer to a whir than a human hum, but he moves on either unaware or unaffected by the brief vocal glitch. )
It's...different. It's not like that, for me. But I think it's good.
( think, because the only way he can describe it right now is 'intense'. )
[ connor leans in closer like he's got a secret to share, and for a minute, juno isn't sure what to do with his hands until an errant bit of his hair falls forward. that's the ticket: burying his fingers in his hair (is it real? is it fake? some combination of both? does it grow naturally or does he just make it look like that? probably rude to ask.) he lets thumbs slide over his temples, pulling his face in closer as a hand skims down his chest, touches where his nipple peaks and leaves him open mouthed as he brushes lips to the corner of connor's jaw.
skin... it just tastes like skin against his lips, the very tip of his tongue as he kisses along his jaw, his throat, fingers curling his hair and keeping him close.
there's a faint thrumming to connor's skin, like it's alive with electricity all along the surface. he licks a stripe like he can taste it, but really just wants the satisfaction of curiosity. and maybe it'll do something for him. or maybe it won't. trial and error, hunches and guesses. it's all relative whether you're vertical or horizontal. ]
Sounds good.
[ he lifts a knee up and presses it against connor's hip. he knows he won't be able to move him just like that, but it's an indicator. he knows that connor's holding himself up, knows he's keeping himself from completely falling down on juno's body.
but he's got a solution. ]
Get on your back, [ rushed, a whisper against connor's mouth, which feels soft and weirdly... real, before he kisses him. he wasn't going to, but it's right there as he levels their eyes. and he adds another kiss for good measure. and another. and a fourth that lasts longer than the other three. ] I got you.
( the lick certainly does something. it's all pressure against sensors, albeit some of the most technologically advanced sensor systems that exist in his world. but it's doing something that he's genuinely never experienced before. admittedly no one has ever licked him before, but even so. it's pressure against sensors, but his skin practically sparks in response and he imagines he would probably huff out a response to the sensation if he had lungs. instead he just lets out that odd little whirring hum again, barely a second in length.
he feels alive. )
Since you asked so nicely.
( there's that snark. he mumbles his response but he complies quickly enough. it's a quick little move - he hooks a foot under a calf and tucks a hand under an arm and as quick as that their positions switch as he rolls them over. it's easy, a brief reminder of just how much strength his synthetic body possesses, and he follows the move with a strain upwards to seek out another kiss.
there's a lot of sensors on his tongue, okay. )
I want to make you feel good, ( this is a little louder, commented almost against juno's lips, and his hands drop to juno's thighs, slide up to grasp his hips. it's not quite hard enough to bruise, but he could. he considers. he might want to. ) so tell me how.
he doesn't anticipate it - then again, most of connor's various displays of strength are hard to anticipate. he doesn't look nearly as strong as he is, and one minute juno feels weightless before the next he's straddling connor's hips, feeling his hands climb up to hold him in place. the tilt of his head is enough to get juno to press a kiss to his mouth again, bowed over and smoothing palms over perfect collar bones, unmarred shoulders.
he knows connor has some weird stuff going on his mouth (stuff that his hazy mind only recalls in clips and snippets), but it's enough to remember to kiss him for a while, to listen to the faint buzzing hum that surfaces from connor's throat like a static sigh between their lips parting.
juno swears he can taste... electricity. ozone. somewhere. taste the way it smells. ] S'not that hard.
[ a hand braced beside connor's shoulder, hips canted a little forward where he knows the sensitivity of connor's chassis seems to kick up in a realistic way. he won't know until he unbuckles his belt sure, but hey. he touches the center of it and flicks the first part up like that's going to say it all. he lets the sound of it hover in the silence of his own breath, desperate to catch itself because each inhale feels bereft of something more. ]
Could take this off for starters. You're overdressed.
( it's all been close enough to human responses that connor hasn't been too bothered up until this point. sure, whirring isn't exactly a human moan but it isn't so far off that it's bizarre. his skin buzzes and he's sure juno can feel it even through his synth skin, but it's not an electric shock. it's still the right side of normal, and he hasn't had to think about anything else too much.
except he probably should have thought a little, because juno's hand fall to connor's belt and he remembers with a sudden rush that hits him like a train.
now that he knows isn't pleasant. )
I should- ( he starts, but how the hell do you phrase this? 'my designers decided that human sex organs were an unnecessary cost when producing my model'? 'i was not intended for a purpose that required genitalia'? 'i don't have a dick'? ) before- you should know what you're getting into.
( he should have brought this up immediately, or at least much earlier. now, halfway naked and buzzing under each touch, it's just a little awkward, and connor's eyes fix on juno's chest rather than making eye contact. it's just awkward now, uncomfortable, and entirely the opposite of what every instinct in his body is telling him to chase. he leans up, presses his lips gently into the hollow of juno's collar bone.
[ juno's fingers trail along the metal of the belt's buckle as connor leans up to press his mouth into his collar bone. the sensation feels like a match to dry tinder and he bites his lip as it happens, shifting because he's trying to listen between the rush of his blood in his ears and the frantic desire to just tell connor to shut up and that he's doing fine but...
the sentence comes out and juno's mouth opens a little. ]
Oh.
[ not disparaging or upset. the timbre isn't like that. it's more of an acknowledgement of what's been said. the nuance of it. he stops hovering up on his knees and sits soundly on connor's thighs, arms and hands coming around to keep him sat up further now against him. he leaves the belt buckle alone in favor of touching connor's chest again - circling the very center of it delicately, coming up to dust his skin with his calluses. ]
Is that all?
[ when he gathers himself, shaking his head, a half laugh-slash-not-very-attractive snort edging out of him. ]
God you are... so weird... [ feverish and fond, he lifts a hand to connor's cheek and pats it once, like a weak slap, something out of their first meeting but kinder. ] It's fine.
[ thumb hooking around connor's chin to keep him looking up at him now - to meet his eyes. juno is flushing dark, looking incredulous behind hooded eyes, pressing in close with his body because the contact is what he craves so desperately at this point. ] Can I see?
( he doesn't have a preconstruction for the reaction to that little bombshell, but even if he had managed to focus long enough to cobble one together this isn't even close to what he was expecting.
his body twitches slightly under the hand at his chest. it's not exposed but connor can still feel his thirium pump stuttering slightly under the touch. there's an edge of danger that bites at his heels and leaves him a little shaky. but he's trying to focus on the matter at hand here.
or lack thereof, because juno genuinely seems to not....care at all. interesting. )
It might make things...complicated.
( as if it wasn't already complicated. as if it wasn't already a mess of an android without a programmed ability to feel pleasure attempting to circumvent that with strange touches and overextended kisses. as if it wasn't already a new blooming friendship thrust into a bed courtesy of a tainted red light drink.
juno's eyes bore into his, and connor guesses he would probably blush right now if that were possible. in response he drops his hands to his belt, unbuckling and slipping it off in a smooth motion. the jeans button follows, and the zipper, but he doesn't actually pull them down yet. )
Yeah. ( his voice hitches slightly and he moves his hands to grip juno's thighs again, squeezing a couple of times. ) Yeah, it's okay.
( he expects it to tailspin around about now, but that's fine. the touching was working well, right? )
[ typically juno doesn't care about this kind of thing.
the way he is right now? he really doesn't care about it. it's not to be flippant - he's just hot as hell and connor's hands on him are the only thing abating the fever that he feels is straight up devouring him. he watches connor, sat back on his heels, as he unbuckles his belt, opens his trousers, but leaves them like that, easy to slip off but not quite there yet.
the hands on his thighs, though. there are nerves there, nervousness that juno is pretty sure on day one wouldn't have even been a thing connor displayed. he rests his hands for half a second on his knuckles, meant to soothe maybe.
reassure.
before he reaches forward and nudges connor back down with a kiss (it's desperate and hungry, but with a message there that says "don't worry, it's alright." juno's seldom ever been the reassuring type, but connor needs it. he can feel it in the tension in his hips, in the way he has to skate his fingers down his sides to hook them into the rim of his pants and pull them down slowly. he follows them with his mouth, dry kisses planted just below his pectorals, down the line of his stomach, trailing further and further until he meets fabric, until fabric gives way.
connor wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't equipped.
he's literally... got nothing down there. juno takes care (care! wow!) not to stare for very long, a bat of his eyelashes in a single blink before he seems to shrug it off and continue his slow path of kissing down along connor's hips, hands pulling his pants all the way down to his knees, and then further to take them all the way off. ]
Still you, doesn't matter. We can make it work just fine, [ what are words? juno says, and it's half a laugh out his mouth as he lets connor's pants drop to the floor, fingering his thighs a little bit as he lifts his head. he wets his lips a little, thinking for a long moment before thumbing connor's inner thigh. ] ... can I touch?
( connor's hands had settled quite comfortably on juno's thighs, but when the other man starts moving to shift his pants down his hips connor has to find a new place to touch. his hands skate up to his hips, move to his waist, run up his chest. moving higher and higher in a perfect mirror to juno's travel south.
his drive is reacting a little differently - juno craves the touch, skin burning under connor's hands as he seeks the contact. connor, conveniently, just wants to touch. he works hard to keep his hands in contact with juno's skin near constantly as they shift around one another to shed the last of his clothes. )
It's okay.
( connor hums softly, skin still buzzing slightly where juno had pressed his lips along his torso. he can feel each point of contact and it takes work to keep his skin intact.
that would be too much, even with how well this is going so far. )
I want- yes.
( it's hard to string the words together, processors whirring hard to dismiss the constant pop ups appearing in his UI to detail every single aspect of the situation from the movements to the environment.
a list of fibre blends used in the sheets under his back appears at the exact time a notification informs him of the thumb pressing into his thigh, as a flashing sign informs connor of the break down of components making up the saliva tracing juno's lips.
it's a lot.
so he clears them all and moves his hands. one brushes along juno's shoulders, curls around his biceps and just holds. the other moves to juno's hair, tangling his fingers in and gripping lightly. not enough to hurt, but enough that he can feel it. )
[ it's all the incentive he needs. the heat in his belly is burning upwards (and downwards), radiating enough that when he gets the go ahead, he goes down immediately, mouth and all. his shoulders part connor's thighs, pulling them up, and yes they're weighty, but he kind of likes that - connor's sturdier than he looks. the synthetic skin is strange-feeling on his, but not unpleasant as he presses close, kisses below his navel, kisses further down along his hips again.
a hand rests in his hair and he hums, lifting his own hand and gripping over the other. it's okay to pull. unspoken, but there as his mouth finally rests against the apex of his thighs.
and then he parts lips and lays his tongue flat and wide against the plane of skin, stroking up with the soft sound of breath. and again. and again. he presses a wet kiss where something else ought to be, but with about as much gusto as he'd give anyone else.
when he looks up, it's glassy-eyed, but curious, fingers curled around connor's thighs for a reaction. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hey im thirsty
no.
no this is fine. it's nice. connor's here. it's whatever.
he doesn't remember how he got "here" in the first place, wherever "here" is, just that he's here, breathing heavily, feeling flush and too hot, tight in his clothing, shifting on a bed that doesn't feel like his because it's too nice. he swears maybe two hours ago he was investigating a case in the red light district - not exactly the best place to be lingering on occasion, but someone had to do it right? the rest of it... well the rest of it's hinky. he remember connor offering to taste? his drink? can robots even taste? why would he even want to? he's been in contact with this client for months now, helping out around the area, why the fuck would anything be off now?
god he's hot.
he blinks upwards heavily, the theia droning on, the crack in the ceiling seeming to stretch even though it definitely doesn't get any bigger in reality. he reaches fingers up to pull at the collar of his shirt, flicks open a few buttons with a laugh because the smooth shifting of the fabric parting on his chest feels nice, cool air touching his skin and then going warm again. he's so goddamn warm.
a hand slaps out to touch neatly pleated fabric of a familiar jacket, thumb the line of perfect seams, touch something in the shape of an R... and a K.
he laughs, and it sounds less like a gunshot, more like water pinging off glass.
he fists fabric in his hand, tugs the jacket, turning his head a little and seeing connor there, looking.
well.
he looks like he always does, maybe with his brows a little more knit and his mouth slightly thinner, but he's still connor. and he tugs hard. ]
Hey. Hey.
[ another tug, reaching out with his second hand and twisting on wherever he's laid down to push at the other lapel while his first hand pulls. the aim is to shove it off connor's shoulders, to see if he'll let him in the first place because like.
computers overheat right? they get hot? and it's getting warmer in here by the second. ]
Hey, it's hot... take this off. C'mon.
no subject
he accompanies juno because he thinks he could use the backup. or at least that's the reason he gives, often and loudly because the truth is that he's terribly bored. connor wasn't programmed to deal well with sitting idly, and even if it isn't programming that demands he get up and act, its a hard habit to break.
so connor accompanies juno to the red light district because he misses investigations, and it turns out to be pretty interesting. it soothes the itch to do something that has eaten at him ever since arriving here, and honestly he's good at it. he's helpful, and useful, and curious -
and really goddamn stupid.
connor can't taste but he asks to try the drink anyway, because he's curious and because he can. it's fun, in a way, doing all these little things that his programming would have previously prevented him from discovering. he'd never know what juno's weird drink "tastes" like, or at least how it registers in his sensors - a little more viscous than a liquid would normally be, but not wholly unpleasant - and they move on quite quickly.
except it's around there that things got weird.
connor isn't overheating because he can't overheat, with a complex system of fans and vents and other cooling processes integrated into his body it's nearly impossible. instead connor is registering pop ups all across his UI, so many that it's hard to see clearly. they're cropping up faster than he can dismiss them, inane observations about the room they occupy and the environment and about juno.
he doesn't dismiss the ones about juno.
he can seeeverything, information about core temperature and heart rate and blood pressure registering somewhere to the left of his vision, and a connor with a clear mind would probably be able to analyse the situation quite easily. but connor can feel the rush of thirium running through his system fast enough that he can hear it, and when juno grabs his jacket something in his mind goes blank. )
Hi.
( it's hardly the most eloquent response, but then again he can hardly expect to be eloquent right now. he stutters forward slightly but doesn't fall, and when juno starts pushing at the shoulders he drops them slightly. enough that the jacket slides down to his forearms.
when he pulls it off completely he takes a moment to carefully fold the clothing before he puts it down, and then he loosens his tie slightly. guy is practically naked. )
It's not hot in here, ( he comments in a passive voice, a little lower than normal, and he reaches out to press a hand flat against juno's chest. ) it's you. You're...warmer than normal. Hot.
no subject
hot. ]
You think you're funny.
[ it's not unkindly said, rather, still in that somewhat dreamy voice that juno has seldom, if ever, used in front of connor. he pulls, lets fingers catch in his belt, wandering the line of it, not quite tugging yet simply thumbing the material of it idly as he shifts under the hand, looks down at it. connor's skin is a vast contrast to his own - pale and unmarked saved for the occasional freckle dusting his knuckle. juno's skin dark and scattered with scars - a nick from a knife, a puckered gunshot wound. ]
C'mere... [ it cracks, curious, barely under his breath as he grabs connor's wrist slowly now, leaving one hand on his belt, letting his fingers slide a little against his own, pulling from the center of his chest over a little. he likes that feeling, his skin sliding over his, fingers touching, spread out. he rests connor's hand over his heart, trying to punch its way out of his chest with every second, leaping up into his throat.
his mouth waters a little, and he swallows, finding connor's eyes. the theia remains steady, pupil undilated, glittering green and a number of other colors, while his organic eye stays dark and wide.
juno wets his lips. ] Feels real good... can you put your other hand on me too?
[ he his body shifts closer and he reaches out to grab at fingers that aren't doing anything important. he clutches them in his own and brings them close. doesn't know where to put them so he rests them on his throat where his pulse is fluttering eagerly, breath coming a little faster now. ]
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( he counters the comment quickly, though he forgets the comments almost as immediately as he responds.
a few buttons have come undone in juno's efforts and connor feels...strange. he'd initially come to stand next to the bed out of concern as juno's vitals started spiralling out of control, but now connor is kneeling next to him and it seems like there's miles between them still.
( he knows this isn't so. it's actually 3.2 centimetres from his knee to juno's hips.
but it doesn't feel that way. )
connor catches the hand that's grabbing for his fingers and squeezes it briefly in his own. his knuckles brush against juno's throat before he releases his hand, and he moves from barely grazing to gently curling his fingers around juno's neck. he doesn't squeeze, barely even puts pressure to touch, but it's just. there. )
Tell me what you're feeling.
( the request - order? - comes out entirely unprompted. connor doesn't even register the words before he blurts them out, and the hand at juno's chest pulls away only long enough to undo the last few buttons on his shirt. he's still kind of overdressed but he doesn't notice, just stares at juno's exposed skin and then his own.
there's no reflection of connor's past on his skin, no evidence of the wounds he's received or the life he has lived. the scars on juno's skin captivate him, and his hand drops down to run along each scar that he can see. connor's supposed to be perfect, but this-
this seems closer to perfection than anything cyberlife has managed to produce. )
Do you want me to touch you?
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[ that's not a question. it didn't have the cadence of once and it's music to juno's ears. his head tilts a little, neck tilting against connor's fingers and palm as he watches him from his place on the bed, his own fingers now down, uselessly flexing against the sheets as he tries to come up with the words. his eyes drag along connor's collar bones, against the plane of skin spattered with a constellation of freckles that seem too real to be synthetic in their haphazard scattering. he bites his lip and decides to put his own hands to use.
he hooks thumbs into his trousers and pulls down his hips, the jut of bone and curve of skin rising while the material slips low. ]
You gotta get closer to do that, genius... geez...
[ the last bit stammers out, a half rasp because the idea of connor touching him more sounds really fucking good. his body feels like it's overrun with some kind of fever, but he likes it. it makes his limbs heavy the way a nice whiskey might, so each motion is like pushing through honey, but in a nice way.
like time's fake, like there's no rush, like all he has to do is reach out and be met stroke for stroke. he wants more skin - his skin, connor's skin, so he kicks at his trousers to get them from where they're pooling around his ankles and reaches out to get his palms in line with the skin connor's waist, fingers pressing in, guiding further from where he's just kneeling (totally useless!) on the bed. ]
What kind of jerk keeps a lady waiting, huh?
[ flushed, voice thick with want, low and hungry, juno tries to pull him down, closer. connor's solid - all metal parts and wire, but he's trying, digging fingers in with desperation to move him if he'll deign to be moved. ]
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but a machine would never be here. and right now he doesn't think he'd sacrifice that, confusion be damned.
his limbs are sluggish, barely noticeable to anyone but him but he can feel the slight drag as he moves his arm again. juno's pants drop and it's all indelicate and ungraceful, but connor's eyes drag down his body and appreciates each movement all the same.
it's a strange sort of attraction, but each imperfection draws him closer. that's what captivates him. )
Some say waiting is part of the appeal.
( there's a definite change in his voice. the sluggish quality has made its way to his vocal processor too, and left him with a voice lower than normal and more hushed, words murmured instead of ringing clear like normal.
connor pauses at the tug, but only long enough to pull his arms back and shed the clothes hanging off his shoulders. he hasn't dealt with the rest of his clothes at all yet, but his chest is bare at least, and when he moves in closer he's all in.
he swings a leg over, half straddling juno's hips, and he can't drop his weight on the human or he'll crush him but he comes in closer. the hand snakes back up, running his thumb against the pulsing artery in juno's neck before his fingers wrap around the throat again. he's not sure why, but there's a definite appeal to the way juno's throat bobs under his palm every time he swallows. )
Tell me how it feels. ( he asks again, and this time his hand slides up juno's side, fingers dragging, his eyes flicking between the scars on juno's chest with captivation. ) Please.
( he's nothing if not polite. )
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he almost completely loses himself to a sigh alone, but connor's desperate, low please gets him in the gut.
tell him how it feels?
that's easy.
or it should be, but his voice is straining a little because there's a heat coursing its way down his entire body. it started in his face, like a good bottle of whiskey, made its way down his chest like the burn, but keeps going lower into the pit of his belly, until he feels it now between his thighs where connor is hovering, dark trousers and all. ]
Hot... [ he swallows under connor's palm, feels where skin meets skin, throat trembling. ] Really hot... you've got nice hands... [ he presses towards that hand, stretches into it the way a dozy cat stretches towards the sun, except more desperate for it. common sense dictates to rub it out himself, but desire (so rarely listened to in the back of juno's mind) says that he's allowed to have a little fun once in a while. the theia has no say in it, just running low background processes, humming warmly in his eye, rolling a little up with his own as he closes his eyes and drags a hand down connor's bare arm.
he lingers on bicep and elbow, forearm, mapping out the shape until he finds the hand around his throat, splaying his fingers over it and grabbing the wrist. ] You okay?
[ an after thought, which juno doesn't mean for it to be, but he wants to know, that little conscious part of himself shifting a little uncomfortably to close casually spread legs before, heels digging in with uncertainty but without the strength in them to actually push off the bed and walk away. his own body traps him, heat and weight, desire, all writhing in the pit of his belly like vipers, snapping at his insides. ] Like really okay. Not bullshit okay.
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there's a buzz just under his synthetic skin at every point of contact, humming under his fingers and across his palm, and when juno moves along his arm it's all he can do to hold the skin intact.
his LED has shone a bright, pulsing yellow since they entered his room what feels like hours earlier but in reality was probably only half an hour ago.
juno grabs his wrist, and connor's eyes suddenly widen. the skin practically buzzes under juno's fingers, and his brows furrow a touch as he leans in closer. his hand drags up to move along his chest instead, catching on a scar and tracing it briefly before moving to repeat the gesture across a nipple. )
No bullshit. ( he echoes, shaking his head briefly before letting out an odd little noise that's a touch closer to a whir than a human hum, but he moves on either unaware or unaffected by the brief vocal glitch. )
It's...different. It's not like that, for me. But I think it's good.
( think, because the only way he can describe it right now is 'intense'. )
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skin... it just tastes like skin against his lips, the very tip of his tongue as he kisses along his jaw, his throat, fingers curling his hair and keeping him close.
there's a faint thrumming to connor's skin, like it's alive with electricity all along the surface. he licks a stripe like he can taste it, but really just wants the satisfaction of curiosity. and maybe it'll do something for him. or maybe it won't. trial and error, hunches and guesses. it's all relative whether you're vertical or horizontal. ]
Sounds good.
[ he lifts a knee up and presses it against connor's hip. he knows he won't be able to move him just like that, but it's an indicator. he knows that connor's holding himself up, knows he's keeping himself from completely falling down on juno's body.
but he's got a solution. ]
Get on your back, [ rushed, a whisper against connor's mouth, which feels soft and weirdly... real, before he kisses him. he wasn't going to, but it's right there as he levels their eyes. and he adds another kiss for good measure. and another. and a fourth that lasts longer than the other three. ] I got you.
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he feels alive. )
Since you asked so nicely.
( there's that snark. he mumbles his response but he complies quickly enough. it's a quick little move - he hooks a foot under a calf and tucks a hand under an arm and as quick as that their positions switch as he rolls them over. it's easy, a brief reminder of just how much strength his synthetic body possesses, and he follows the move with a strain upwards to seek out another kiss.
there's a lot of sensors on his tongue, okay. )
I want to make you feel good, ( this is a little louder, commented almost against juno's lips, and his hands drop to juno's thighs, slide up to grasp his hips. it's not quite hard enough to bruise, but he could. he considers. he might want to. ) so tell me how.
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he doesn't anticipate it - then again, most of connor's various displays of strength are hard to anticipate. he doesn't look nearly as strong as he is, and one minute juno feels weightless before the next he's straddling connor's hips, feeling his hands climb up to hold him in place. the tilt of his head is enough to get juno to press a kiss to his mouth again, bowed over and smoothing palms over perfect collar bones, unmarred shoulders.
he knows connor has some weird stuff going on his mouth (stuff that his hazy mind only recalls in clips and snippets), but it's enough to remember to kiss him for a while, to listen to the faint buzzing hum that surfaces from connor's throat like a static sigh between their lips parting.
juno swears he can taste... electricity. ozone. somewhere. taste the way it smells. ] S'not that hard.
[ a hand braced beside connor's shoulder, hips canted a little forward where he knows the sensitivity of connor's chassis seems to kick up in a realistic way. he won't know until he unbuckles his belt sure, but hey. he touches the center of it and flicks the first part up like that's going to say it all. he lets the sound of it hover in the silence of his own breath, desperate to catch itself because each inhale feels bereft of something more. ]
Could take this off for starters. You're overdressed.
[ it is hot. you're just dumb. ]
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except he probably should have thought a little, because juno's hand fall to connor's belt and he remembers with a sudden rush that hits him like a train.
now that he knows isn't pleasant. )
I should- ( he starts, but how the hell do you phrase this? 'my designers decided that human sex organs were an unnecessary cost when producing my model'? 'i was not intended for a purpose that required genitalia'? 'i don't have a dick'? ) before- you should know what you're getting into.
( he should have brought this up immediately, or at least much earlier. now, halfway naked and buzzing under each touch, it's just a little awkward, and connor's eyes fix on juno's chest rather than making eye contact. it's just awkward now, uncomfortable, and entirely the opposite of what every instinct in his body is telling him to chase. he leans up, presses his lips gently into the hollow of juno's collar bone.
better. still not enough. ) I'm not...equipped.
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the sentence comes out and juno's mouth opens a little. ]
Oh.
[ not disparaging or upset. the timbre isn't like that. it's more of an acknowledgement of what's been said. the nuance of it. he stops hovering up on his knees and sits soundly on connor's thighs, arms and hands coming around to keep him sat up further now against him. he leaves the belt buckle alone in favor of touching connor's chest again - circling the very center of it delicately, coming up to dust his skin with his calluses. ]
Is that all?
[ when he gathers himself, shaking his head, a half laugh-slash-not-very-attractive snort edging out of him. ]
God you are... so weird... [ feverish and fond, he lifts a hand to connor's cheek and pats it once, like a weak slap, something out of their first meeting but kinder. ] It's fine.
[ thumb hooking around connor's chin to keep him looking up at him now - to meet his eyes. juno is flushing dark, looking incredulous behind hooded eyes, pressing in close with his body because the contact is what he craves so desperately at this point. ] Can I see?
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his body twitches slightly under the hand at his chest. it's not exposed but connor can still feel his thirium pump stuttering slightly under the touch. there's an edge of danger that bites at his heels and leaves him a little shaky. but he's trying to focus on the matter at hand here.
or lack thereof, because juno genuinely seems to not....care at all. interesting. )
It might make things...complicated.
( as if it wasn't already complicated. as if it wasn't already a mess of an android without a programmed ability to feel pleasure attempting to circumvent that with strange touches and overextended kisses. as if it wasn't already a new blooming friendship thrust into a bed courtesy of a tainted red light drink.
juno's eyes bore into his, and connor guesses he would probably blush right now if that were possible. in response he drops his hands to his belt, unbuckling and slipping it off in a smooth motion. the jeans button follows, and the zipper, but he doesn't actually pull them down yet. )
Yeah. ( his voice hitches slightly and he moves his hands to grip juno's thighs again, squeezing a couple of times. ) Yeah, it's okay.
( he expects it to tailspin around about now, but that's fine. the touching was working well, right? )
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the way he is right now? he really doesn't care about it. it's not to be flippant - he's just hot as hell and connor's hands on him are the only thing abating the fever that he feels is straight up devouring him. he watches connor, sat back on his heels, as he unbuckles his belt, opens his trousers, but leaves them like that, easy to slip off but not quite there yet.
the hands on his thighs, though. there are nerves there, nervousness that juno is pretty sure on day one wouldn't have even been a thing connor displayed. he rests his hands for half a second on his knuckles, meant to soothe maybe.
reassure.
before he reaches forward and nudges connor back down with a kiss (it's desperate and hungry, but with a message there that says "don't worry, it's alright." juno's seldom ever been the reassuring type, but connor needs it. he can feel it in the tension in his hips, in the way he has to skate his fingers down his sides to hook them into the rim of his pants and pull them down slowly. he follows them with his mouth, dry kisses planted just below his pectorals, down the line of his stomach, trailing further and further until he meets fabric, until fabric gives way.
connor wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't equipped.
he's literally... got nothing down there. juno takes care (care! wow!) not to stare for very long, a bat of his eyelashes in a single blink before he seems to shrug it off and continue his slow path of kissing down along connor's hips, hands pulling his pants all the way down to his knees, and then further to take them all the way off. ]
Still you, doesn't matter. We can make it work just fine, [ what are words? juno says, and it's half a laugh out his mouth as he lets connor's pants drop to the floor, fingering his thighs a little bit as he lifts his head. he wets his lips a little, thinking for a long moment before thumbing connor's inner thigh. ] ... can I touch?
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his drive is reacting a little differently - juno craves the touch, skin burning under connor's hands as he seeks the contact. connor, conveniently, just wants to touch. he works hard to keep his hands in contact with juno's skin near constantly as they shift around one another to shed the last of his clothes. )
It's okay.
( connor hums softly, skin still buzzing slightly where juno had pressed his lips along his torso. he can feel each point of contact and it takes work to keep his skin intact.
that would be too much, even with how well this is going so far. )
I want- yes.
( it's hard to string the words together, processors whirring hard to dismiss the constant pop ups appearing in his UI to detail every single aspect of the situation from the movements to the environment.
a list of fibre blends used in the sheets under his back appears at the exact time a notification informs him of the thumb pressing into his thigh, as a flashing sign informs connor of the break down of components making up the saliva tracing juno's lips.
it's a lot.
so he clears them all and moves his hands. one brushes along juno's shoulders, curls around his biceps and just holds. the other moves to juno's hair, tangling his fingers in and gripping lightly. not enough to hurt, but enough that he can feel it. )
Touch me.
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a hand rests in his hair and he hums, lifting his own hand and gripping over the other. it's okay to pull. unspoken, but there as his mouth finally rests against the apex of his thighs.
and then he parts lips and lays his tongue flat and wide against the plane of skin, stroking up with the soft sound of breath. and again. and again. he presses a wet kiss where something else ought to be, but with about as much gusto as he'd give anyone else.
when he looks up, it's glassy-eyed, but curious, fingers curled around connor's thighs for a reaction. ]