Archive of Our Own ^beta

Connor spends an entire paycheck on sex toys.

Three, in fact. Three months in a row he takes an entire week’s pay and lets go of his impulse control.

It’s far from a wise use of his money, but he’s become completely insatiable since the incident where Hank accidentally fucked his vaginal component months ago. Connor’s been trying to masturbate every which way, from using the showerhead to attempting to fist himself (and discovering the limits of his flexibility), not to mention using socks and a hollowed-out fruit after swapping to his penile component. Now he understands why humans do these things, and he’s had the experience of shame at his own masturbatory habits. Hank has never opened Connor’s storage bin in the garage (where he’d relocated most of his belongings after the incident) and Connor is thankful for it.

Hank has been reluctant to sleep with him or do anything of a physically intimate nature. It’s more than understandable; it isn’t like Hank exactly planned to fuck him, and Hank’s depression and low self-esteem don’t do him any favors. They’ve hardly broached the subject beyond “for the tenth time, you did nothing wrong” and “yes, I have multiple genital plates that I find comfortable for everyday wear” and “I wasn’t programmed with an innate sense of gender and I’m not about to start now.”

If asked, Connor would drop to his knees and swallow Hank’s cock, or give him the ride of his life, or tie Hank up and lick whipped cream off his nipples… he’d do anything just to have that contact again.

But Hank doesn’t ask, so Connor doesn’t do anything. He’s respectful. He saves his masturbation for when Hank’s out at his new library job or fast asleep at 3am, keeping quiet on the living room sofa. (There isn’t a spare room for Connor and neither of them have yet come up with better ideas, but given the low amount of sleep and comfort Connor requires, the sofa suffices.) He’s not inclined to sleep with strangers or any of his other friends, so he’s left with whatever he can find around the house and whatever he can purchase. Given the weirdness he feels after shoving a cucumber up his ass and the guilt at having to throw it out, buying toys seems less of a waste and more of a necessity.

Not that he feels too much shame. Humans themselves are a sexual species so he’s hardly an anomaly. He’s also out of mental energy to care about much of anything after working all the hours assigned to him. (The coffee shop manager still likes him and Connor’s thankful for that despite the strain of working a customer-facing job. All of his applications elsewhere have been rejected or unanswered. He’s fortunate that he doesn’t strictly need more money given the lack of rent.)

Connor discovers three things:

One: Vibrators are not as quiet as advertised. The first time he tried one out, it woke Hank and Connor had to quickly cover up and feign stasis.

Two: If needed, he can unlatch part of his frame in order to accommodate larger insertions. It’s somewhat unnerving.

Three: No toy feels as good as Hank did.

The one avenue he hasn’t yet explored is to use his own components.

The thought gives him a thrill. How would it feel? Which component ought he wear while playing with the other? Should he activate the second one remotely so he can feel both at once? Are his systems even capable of doing so?

He mulls the questions over in his mind for days before deciding one evening that he’ll simply have to try it. It’s been a long day after a long week and he’s showered twice but can’t get the smell of pumpkin spice off of himself after spilling powdered drink mix everywhere at work. He’s tired of thinking and needs something to distract himself..

His penis is already attached and half-hard, so that determines how the night is going to go. Once he’s sure Hank is fast asleep, he lays down a towel atop the sofa and undresses. His vaginal component is in a duffel bag, where he’d relocated it this morning while Hank showered. Taking it out from the bag now makes his cock twitch. He isn’t normally aroused by his own parts, but knowing what he plans…

Lubricant fills his mouth. He brings up the component and tentatively licks the small, soft dick, nearly hidden under its hood in its flaccid state. It tastes the same as his own synthskin. It doesn’t respond to the stimulation, yet he continues to lick, his attached cock quickly growing to full hardness despite not receiving any erotic stimulation. It shouldn’t be this arousing, yet he can’t deny how he reacts.

He slides his tongue under the flaccid cock and wraps his lips around it, then reaches back to flick on the device and sucks.

A loud moan escapes him before he can stop it. He’s suddenly more sensitive and more aware of sensation than before. The suction around his cock is incredible and he presses his hips forward only to realize how useless it is, which only makes it hotter. Sure, he can control his own movements in a normal situation, but like this, it’s easier to feel like he’s under someone else’s thumb.

The feeling of being in two places at once is odd. It doesn’t feel like he has two sets of genitals at his groin, but as if he has two separate groins in the way he has two separate hands. He doesn’t linger on the weirdness, instead licking and sucking his own length earnestly, lube dripping down his chin as his mouth produces an excess. This is what he desperately wanted from Hank that day, and god, it’s so good. The wet mouth is heavenly and his tongue slides effortlessly across his most sensitive parts. His mouth is filled as his cock grows erect, hard and throbbing and meaty, and he’s grateful that it’s small; it allows him intense suction and it makes him feel so fully encompassed by the size of his own mouth.

His eyes drift down to his untouched dick. He could fit that in his mouth, too. Maybe someday he’ll try, but he doesn’t want to stop what he’s feeling now.

He slides his tongue lower until it slips into his hole, providing it with some much-needed lube. It’s a different feeling to being penetrated with a dick, but a good one. All the better when his tongue runs across residue that isn’t his.

It’s shameful, to taste traces of Hank’s semen and to store that analysis away tightly. It makes his breath catch and both his cocks throb, already as hard as they can get. Keeping his hands away from his attached dick takes a monumental amount of effort when all he wants to do is shove it inside the hole in front of him.

He tips the component upright and drools into the hole, lubricating it quite a bit more than necessary. The soaked feeling has him clenching around nothing, eager to take a cock. Instead of giving in to what he’s desperate for, he presses in two fingers and sighs at the intrusion. His hole clamps down like he’s trying to milk his fingers and he gyrates his hips a couple of times, but of course that does nothing. He takes his time with his fingers, savoring the softness and hot wet walls around them. They’re sensitive but far less desperate than what they’re penetrating. It lets him explore all the little bumps and faux muscles from a whole new angle.

The intensity inside him subsides until he presses the pads of his fingers firmly against his front wall, dragging them towards himself from the inside. He shivers when the sustained pressure reaches his G-spot. He presses more firmly against it and rubs in circles. It makes him clench down again and shift his hips. He aches for deeper penetration but can’t quite achieve that with his fingers, so he settles for this and gives in to the desire to get sucked, wrapping his lips around his cock once more.

He wants to edge himself, tease himself until he’s gasping for more, but he doesn’t have the self-restraint. He keeps sucking, running his tongue along the underside and dipping it inside the foreskin to rub against the side of his head, while fingering himself aggressively. Slick covers his hand and mouth while his cock and hole are absolutely drenched. He swallows as much of his cock as he can and sucks hard while furiously pressing against his G-spot and that’s what makes him come. His meaty dick pulsates inside of his mouth and his muscles wrap tightly around his fingers. If the component were attached, he’s sure he’d be gushing by now.

Only once the pressure becomes too much does he withdraw his mouth and fingers. Strands of slick temporarily keep them connected. He wonders if Hank would let him go that easily or make him squirm and writhe by sucking and rubbing him until he screams.

Fuck, but that’s an incredible image.

Despite the orgasm, his penile component has not ejaculated. It pulsated in time with his other cock, but as far as that part went, it was underwhelming compared to his usual orgasms.

Which means his dick is still rock hard and ready to go.

He remembers the primal and desperate way Hank fucked him. It’s seared into his memory. He eyes how dripping wet he is and then doesn’t let himself think. He pulls over a cushion, sets the vaginal component atop it, crouches above it, and presses the head of his cock against his entrance. His muscles contract, brushing his wet lips teasingly against the head. Then he pushes in.

His cock easily slips in halfway and he gasps. It’s incredible for both components. Though his hole is oversensitive and already sated, his cock is far from it and this hot warmth is new, enticing, and irresistible. He should go slow and take it easy on his hole. But that’s not what his cock wants. It’s not what he wants.

He pulls out and ruts shallowly inside himself, quick and brief movements that keep him breathless from the internal stimulation and invigorated from the external. That doesn’t last long until he craves more. He snaps his hips forward, his first deep thrust going in hard and fast, and the angle punches a spot inside of him that he couldn’t reach with his fingers. It’s enjoyable despite the fatigue in that component.

The way it feels to be fully hilted is delectable. He stays and marvels at the sensation of being hilted for a solid minute. His arousal dims to a simmer, but he’s disinclined to keep it that way. He makes a few languid thrusts, absorbing the feelings, before he gives in to his fantasies and his cock.

He fucks himself with as much force and speed as he can muster. Each thrust hits deep inside him and overwhelms him internally while the heat and friction and wetness give his cock exactly the experience he’s after. Every movement makes a wet squelch. The whole experience has him in a daze and he can hardly think, but he manages, after some minutes, to make the decision to flip the component over as if taking himself from behind.

He keeps up the pace and now every thrust has his balls slap against his smaller dick, which is still wet and half-hard. He bites down hard on the edge of the towel he’d set down earlier to quiet his moans. He fucks without restraint and without any regard for his more sensitive insides, making him feel simultaneously powerful and dominant yet used exactly the way he wants to be used. It’s intoxicating.

Tension wells up inside of him and he feels both components gearing up for orgasm. He growls and picks up the pace again, filled with something akin to the primal, mammalian need to mate and breed. Each hard thrust is heavenly on his cock and, despite the otherwise sloppy fuck, he aims them to hit the best spots inside of him, making the experience just as good inside as out.

When he comes, he doesn’t stop moving. All of his muscles twitch and pulsate as he fills himself with cum, subconsciously boosting production to maximum. It increases both his output and the duration of the orgasm. As he keeps fucking himself, both lube and cum splurt out each time he thrusts inside, making a mess all over himself and the cushion. He keeps going until his cock begins to ache from the overstimulation, then he finally, reluctantly slips out, letting out a groan and lying on his side.

There’s a sound in the kitchen as something bumps against a chair.

Connor bolts upright. He expects—hopes—that it’s just Sumo having made his way out of Hank’s bedroom.

He isn’t that lucky.

Hank’s standing in the kitchen, cringing at the chair. There’s barely enough light for a human to see by. The red glow of Connor’s LED bounces off of everything in the room.

They stare at each other for at least half a minute before Hank turns away and shuffles for the cabinets. He fixes himself a glass of water, and in all that time, Connor doesn’t come up with any idea what to say. He doesn’t need to review his records of the past half hour to know how loud he’s been.

“Night,” Hank squeaks out once he’s had his drink and set the glass aside.

Connor’s inclined to let him leave, but the part of him that’s still unreasonably horny and shameless focuses on the outline of Hank’s hard cock inside his boxers. It’s thicker than Connor’s and he’s desperate to feel it again. “Do you need any help getting to sleep?” he asks, keeping his voice low and husky. He puts on a small smile that he knows Hank will see given the proximity of his now-blue LED.

Hank pauses by the hallway like he’s definitely considering the offer. “Is this the kind of help where you tuck me in and sing lullabies?”

“It’s the kind where you take what you want and I thank you for it.” Connor has the decency to look a little bashful. “I apologize for making a racket; I got caught up and wasn’t aware of myself. It isn’t my intent to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything. But I am very sexually interested and you are clearly aroused, so if you are inclined, then please fuck me.”

“Jesus,” Hank whispers under his breath, but he doesn’t hesitate long. He flicks on the light switch and approaches Connor. “Do you have any idea how much of a goddamn menace you are?” His eyebrows shoot up when he reaches the couch and peers over the back. “You’re washing that cushion.”

“Come here,” Connor insists. Once Hank’s circled around the sofa, Connor pushes him to sit down and straddles his hips. He allows himself to take in the image of Hank, shirtless, up close—those dark nipples, thick curls, and touched-up tattoos—then leans in and nips his ear. “Do you want this?”

“Yeah. Whatever you’re packing, I want this.”

Connor grinds his half-hard cock against Hank’s growing erection. He pushes hard and hisses at the oversensitivity while Hank lets out a muffled groan. He’s dreamt of this many times. “I want you to suck me off like you can’t get enough of me, fuck me hard, and come inside me. I want you to satisfy yourself and leave me writhing. I want to feel the strength of your muscles and your unrelenting lust.”

Hank pulls him in for a messy kiss with one hand and grasps his ass with another, pressing Connor against him while his hips push upwards. The data in his mouth is electrifying and the sensation as Hank licks and moves his lips is beautiful. When Hank parts to breathe, he grasps both sides of Connor’s ass and moans. “You want me to use you? Want me to fuck you hard just to get myself off?”

“Yes,” Connor breathes. “Please.”

Hank presses a finger against Connor’s tight asshole, but Connor grasps his hand quickly. “Not tonight,” he says. He nods towards the component on the cushion. “Use that one.”

Hank stares at it until his brain puts the pieces together. “You were fucking your own pussy out here?”

“Considering all the times you’ve told me to fuck myself…”

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jesus.” Hank kisses him hard again.

It takes little effort to remove Hank’s boxers. Connor salivates at the image and can’t resist getting to his knees while Hank collects his dripping vaginal component. He grasps Hank’s cock, feeling it hot and heavy in his hand. “May I?”

Hank presses a finger inside Connor’s hole and the cum slips out of it. “Uh-huh,” he says, giving it a good look over.

Connor starts with a few exploratory strokes. His smaller cock twitches when Hank finally starts to lick, and when he takes Connor in his mouth to start sucking, Connor does the same. He swallows all of Hank in one go, prompting Hank to moan loudly. The vibrations run through Connor’s cock, followed quickly by Hank sucking just as enthusiastically as Connor. Connor files away as much information as he can about Hank’s cock while simultaneously doing his best to impress and make Hank feel as good as he possibly can.

Hank’s lips and tongue slow down, letting Connor know that Hank may be ready to move on before he even says so. Connor lets off of Hank’s cock with a pop, then teasingly licks a line along the underside.

Hank gives a few more licks of his own. Some of Connor’s cum is in his beard. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

Connor opens his mouth to say that Hank should just go to town on his component, but he stops when his brain catches up to him. He stands up and presses his hands to the edge of his crotch, revealing the shiny white of his chassis, then releases the penile component and tosses it onto the couch. He takes his vaginal component from Hank (who’s staring at Connor’s mechanical crotch, all wires and visibly inorganic pieces) and slots it into place, waiting for all the connections to click together.

“Okay. That works,” Hank says quietly.

Connor gets back on the sofa, lying down on his front with the cushion supporting him. His own cum smears against his belly. He spreads his legs, then reaches forward to pull his disconnected cock towards himself, wrapping his lips around it and turning the connection back on. Now that the component is connected again, his internal lubrication ramps up, overcompensating by releasing far more lube than necessary.

Hank takes Connor’s spread legs as an invitation and lines himself up behind him. He pushes his cock against Connor’s entrance, pressing inside gently. Connor looks back at him, unimpressed, and Hank pushes in until he’s hilted, cum and slick still dripping out from Connor. Then he leans forward with his belly against Connor’s back. “Go ahead, Connor. Suck your cock for me,” he says. Hank steadies his arms to either side of Connor, then begins to thrust hard and deep.

Even though it isn’t the speed Connor wanted, it’s everything else he could have asked for. The consistent strength turns his mind blank as he steadily sucks his own dick. It all turns into one wonderful sensation of good and filled and fucked out. The movements are focused on Hank’s pleasure, but it still hits the right spots inside of him to make him moan and ask for more. Not that he can ask for anything with his mouth filled, though he tries, drooling on his own dick while getting pounded from behind.

It’s flattering—and somehow makes him even more aroused—that Hank doesn’t last long. Only a couple of minutes in, his movements become less coordinated and he reaches down to rub Connor’s cock.

Connor frees his mouth long enough to say, “You don’t need to do that. Just take what you want. I want you to.”

“What if I want to feel you come around me?” Hank says huskily into his ear.

Connor moans and shifts his hips then, finding purchase with Hank’s fingers to get the right amount of pressure. He keeps one hand stroking his other cock. “Yes—There, Hank, right there, oh god…” He lets the pleasure rise up inside of him and chases it until he comes, his tired muscles squeezing tighter than they have all night. He becomes wetter inside as well, practically drenched by now. His thighs are no doubt a mess.

Connor’s quiet moans, Hank’s heavy breaths, and the slick, messy sounds of their fucking make up Connor’s entire world. Hank follows soon after with a deep groan, cock pulsating as he fills Connor’s center with heat. When he slips out, so does a deluge of fluids. Connor’s never felt so filled up and satisfied before.

“Hey.” Hank snaps his fingers. When Connor refocuses his eyes, Hank’s standing beside him, boxers back on. He’s been dozing for about 200 seconds. “You with me?”

“Mm.” Connor stops stroking his detached cock (an automatic action he’d been doing) and lets his body relax. “Yeah.”

“You’re a mess.”

“Mhm.” He’s not inclined to move. He wants to stay here forever.

“You need to clean up?”

“Nope.”

Hank sighs. “Of course not.” Still, he grabs a few paper towels from the kitchen and wipes the worst of the mess from Connor. “You good?”

“Very.”

“Okay.” Hank gathers Connor’s sheets from the floor and drapes them over him, then grabs the pillow that had been underneath them and sets it under his head. Connor doesn’t need it, but the fact that Hank considers it is adorable. “Can you turn off your dick or whatever?”

Connor obliges with a wireless command and watches as Hank stuffs it into Connor’s bag. “You’re cute,” he murmurs.

“So are you, you horny little freak,” Hank says affectionately. He hesitates, then kisses Connor on the forehead. “See you in the morning, I guess?”

“Yeah.” Connor shuts his eyes. “See you.”

He hears Hank shuffle his feet. “And, uh. If you wanted to, you know. Share the bed instead of sleeping on the couch. We might be able to work something out. When you’re not, uh, bukkake’d.”

Connor gives him a thumbs up, stasis already initiating. He’s asleep before Hank leaves the room.