It won't leave my mind and the caffeine's hit so here's a patient Hank Hankcon first time thread

(Connor has a vaginal component in this but this is going to end in soft handjobs so there's no piv sex)

Deviancy hadn’t come as easily to Connor as it had to others, even in the months after the successful revolution, Hank had to watch, occasionally guiding, as he fumbled through feeling new, often overwhelming emotions and living without a handler telling him right from wrong.

Not that Connor doesn’t understand right and wrong, but living without clear mission parameters proved to be more dizzying than he thought it would be. Above anything else though, he struggles with expressing himself outside of the rigid box Cyberlife had set out for him,

and spends too much time worrying over whether the way he’s reacting is human enough,even if he knows there’s no need for him to do that. Even now, months on, he’ll still sometimes pause and take longer than socially acceptable to assess whether he’s doing things the ‘right way’.

Hank had teased him about it at first. He found it a little funny, how Connor had never seemed to follow his orders before, how he’d been ‘a little shit that did whatever he wanted’, but deviancy had made him missionless and much more self-conscious over how he is perceived.

As much as he doesn’t miss Amanda and her constant criticisms, he does miss having clear objectives. Visiting Jericho is always an uncomfortable experience, he feels as if the others are watching, judging, as if they can sense how much he is struggling.

They make everything look so easy, even if he knows from interfaces that everyone has their doubts about themselves sometimes.

Making difficult decisions feels like being bounced off of a wall and thrown back into a learned helplessness.

It’s unreasonable, but there’s always a lingering paranoia that what he feels is somehow wrong or not normal, or that he’ll be threatened with deactivation for stepping out of line, despite most of the people around him doing nothing but encourage his growing individuality.

And he has gotten much better, especially after the dust had settled and the trauma experienced by androids had started to be addressed. Jericho runs a lot of group meetings focusing on sharing experiences and advice on how to overcome various difficulties,

but Connor hasn’t attended any of them, even if he knows they could be helpful. Instead he’d spent most of his time in Jericho around its leaders, offering insights into the probability of various human politicians supporting different android rights ideas,

and in return had grown quite comfortable around Markus and the others.

He supposes they can be counted in his handful of friends, they don’t meet much outside of official reasons, but they do check up on each other via their links every now and then.

He’s never shared the complete details of what had happened during Markus’ speech, but they do know about the Amanda handler programme, and they’d helped to reassure him during some of his darker days that what he had done pre-deviancy hadn’t been his fault.

Even still, despite being an android, he feels as if humans are easier to understand. Maybe that comes from the fact that he spends most of his time around them, unlike the majority of androids who have chosen to surround themselves with other androids for the time being,

at least until they’re comfortable enough to venture out. Most humans are… neutral towards him, but of course there’s the occasional one who’s downright hostile.

As for him and Hank, well, it had taken until summer was just beginning for them to finally stop dancing around each other, when the longing gazes and lingering touches had become unbearable for the both of them.

Maybe it was for the best, it had certainly given Connor more time to really grow into himself.

It was during that summer, a season he’s found himself enjoying with all its greenery and energy, that he’d really started getting… urges. Chalk it up to him previously being too preoccupied with how to function post deviancy or the sudden upsurge in androids beginning to

explore the more sexual aspects of relationships, but desire is an emotion that had hit him like a freight train.

The unusually warm weather hadn’t helped him reign in control over his overheating processors in the slightest when his mind had begun to churn out a series of more

intimate preconstructions and Hank’s handsy nature, a hand always touching him – his shoulder, his lower back to guide him somewhere, or ruffle his hair, hadn’t helped at all.

It had even started to affect his work. He was made to be able to handle hundreds of processes at one, but once his mind supplied him with one preconstruction of Hank’s touch trailing up his arm it had only escalated from there – hands mapping out his body, lips against his own,

how Hank’s bulk would feel pressed down against him, grounding him, how it would feel to be split open in the most intimate way.

He’s ashamed to admit that he’s scanned Hank a little – a lot – more thoroughly than is probably necessary.

Hank had noticed pretty quickly when Connor started to get distracted more often, but luckily he’d managed to throw him off the scent, telling him that he just needed to go into stasis or run updates. Not that that had stopped his eyes from trailing down

onto the bulge in Hank’s boxers whenever they’d find themselves sat together on the couch.

Suffice it to say it hadn’t taken him long to get closely acquainted with Hank’s showerhead. He’s in there practically every day now with the excuse that although he doesn’t need to bathe

as often as a human, he still enjoys it. Hank hadn’t questioned him about it, but he was definitely starting to raise his eyebrows at how often it was happening.

By the time the two had kissed Connor had known about his own feelings for months, and it had taken him weeks to fully accept them, terrified of the prospect of pushing Hank away by revealing them, even if he was almost certain that Hank felt the same way from the way

his heartbeat would quicken and how often he seemed to flush now.

Their first kiss wasn’t dramatic or spur of the moment. It was comfortable, and Connor thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Their touches had been getting progressively more deliberate for weeks. On nights that they’d spend curled up on the couch Hank would even softly press his lips against the top of his head, his sensors going haywire at the tickling of breath ghosting over this hair.

But Hank never pushed further than that, unbeknownst to him at the time it was because he’d wanted Connor to be sure of himself.

When it did happen it was a night like any other, the two watching the game. Or Hank was watching the game, Connor was too busy focusing his attention

on the leg that was so close to his own, not quite close enough to touch but he was hyper aware of the heat radiating off of the other man.

He’d even flinched when Hank moved to drape a heavy arm over his shoulders, pulling him into the plush softness of his chest

in a way that always comforts him, but that night he had too much on his mind to nuzzle in like he usually would. Of course, Hank noticed immediately.

“You okay?” The memory of Hank’s fingers lightly tipping his head up is ingrained deep into his mind, practically fried into his circuits along with the visual of concerned blue eyes looking down at him.

“There’s something I want to try.” He’d said in a low murmur, eyes trailing down to Hank’s lips, then back up. Hank’s experience must have told him what Connor wanted, because he could sense immediately when Hank’s heart-rate picked up.

“Oh yeah?” There was that gentle, encouraging smile tugging at his lips, and Connor thought it was endearing that he could tell that Hank was trying not to bite them out of nervousness.

But he’d lost his nerve, had sighed and tried to look down, away from the eyes boring into his own, seeing straight into him. He’d told himself that he’d be confident in what he wanted, but saying is easier than doing.

With a resigned noise he jerked his head away, a small ‘nevermind’ leaving his lips on an exhale.

Hank didn’t let him do that. As soon as he’d pulled his head away the hand at his chin turned him back, thumb stroking experimentally over the crease of his lips, parting them

ever so slightly. The touch was scalding, but he didn’t want to turn away, and the way Hank was looking at him caused a whole catalogue of errors and warnings.

“Connor,” A shudder actually ran through his body at the feeling of Hank’s breath – featherlight, warm, human –

– over the hair trigger sensors of his lips. “Can I kiss you?”