Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning show wants them there at 8am for a 10am segment and all Markus wants is to remain in bed for the next foreseeable future. Simon is a soft, delightfully bare presence wrapped up in his arms and the artwork embedded in his new skin means he’s awash with infinitely more detail. He’s all soft rosy tones on pale skin, and Carl spared no effort in giving him an artfully human appearance. Markus presses a trail of lingering kisses along his jaw, trailing the column of his neck and stopping to nip at his collarbone as Simon stirs awake.

“Well good morning to you too.” Simon chuckles sleepily, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “We have to get ready for the show.”

“We’re androids, Simon,” he argues as he tightens his hold, “we don’t need an hour in hair and makeup.”

“They asked us to be there at 8am.” His lover replies in that patient tone he reserves for children. “So we need to be there at 8am.”

“Mmm no, I disagree.” Hiding a grin, Markus continues his path down Simon’s body, leaving kisses in his wake as he shuffles further below the quilts. 

“Markus!” Simon chides, hands on his shoulders, clawing for him to stop. “Markus, we have to go. Markus-!” He gasps suddenly as the other android mouths at him hungrily, and Simon throws off the sheets to try and glare at him to no avail.

“I think I can convince you to stay…” Markus licks his lips and gives him a wink and there’s no more room for argument after that.

Chapter Text

What’s the social protocol for mornings after with androids? Tina’s not really sure, but then again Tina’s not really sure about anything these days. World’s dying, a revolution happened, and now Tina’s dating the super cute android named Stephanie, the receptionist deviant at Central Precinct. Who she took home last night. And consequently slept with.

Now the girl is blinking awake and Tina’s kind of jealous that androids don’t suffer from bedhair or bad breath in the mornings because it just means she’s making hearteyes at a perfectly beautiful girl while she knows she looks (and smells) like a mess. 

“Good morning.” Stephanie smiles, leaning forward to bump their noses fondly. The dusting of freckles over her nose crinkle when she smiles. God she’s so fucking cute and Tina’s gay gay g a y. 

“Hey. Um. You sleep okay?” Yeah, real smooth there Tina.

“I did, thank you.” She reaches out to gently stroke Tina’s hair behind her ear and her heart leaps in her chest. “Shall we get ready? We have forty-three minutes until the optimum time to commute to work if we are to beat the traffic.”

“Can you factor in a trip to Starbucks for a coffee and Tearium run?”

“I most certainly can.” She quips, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips and render Tina a super gay puddle of feelings. Rising from the bed is one graceful, fluid movement and Tina can’t help but stare at her beautiful lithe body as Stephanie bends to swipe up a shirt from the floor. It’s Tina’s, a faded band tee she uses for pyjamas and when the android dons it, it’s far too short on her body, skimming the crease of her thighs and failing to cover anything modestly. Tina’s staring and she knows it, and Stephanie knows it too.

“It’s a shame we have work today.” Stephanie stretches languidly and the borrowed tee rises even higher to reveal her navel. “I’d rather spend the morning with you in bed.” Tina knows she’s absolutely bright red, can feel the heat on her cheeks as Stephanie leans in to purr. “After all, we didn’t even get to use the toys last night.” 

“There’s always tonight.” Tina blurts, and her lover breaks into a devilish smile. 

“Yes, there is.”

Chapter Text

The thing is, Markus knows he’s very different from other androids; Elijah Kamski made him to be as humanlike as possible, programming him with all sorts of quirks not out of place in a human but quite out of place in an android. It isn’t noticeable when he’s around others, but when it’s just the two of them, when the world is condensed to their bedroom, to their bed, it’s laid bare for him to see. When Simon ‘sleeps’ he simply closes his eyes and falls still, there’s no shifting to find a comfortable position, there’s no light surface sleep, there’s no shuffling closer or tugging at blankets. There’s simply awake and not awake.

Markus, on the other hand, has been programmed with thousands of micro-expressions and gestures that humans unconsciously make; he tosses and turns in his sleep, he will very lightly wake in the middle of a sleep cycle to shift position, to paw for Simon and spoon up against him if he’s no longer cuddling him. Whenever this happens he’ll rearrange his lover too, carefully gathering him into his arms and nosing his hair and sleepily pressing kisses to his face before he drifts back to sleep.

Come the morning, Simon will rouse at 6:45am on the dot, not a second before, not a second after, as he is programmed to do. Markus will slowly blink awake at 6:45am and sleepily rub his eyes, and his voice will be slightly husky and his limbs slightly uncoordinated until around about 6:49am with a few seconds leway. 

“Hey gorgeous.” Markus smiles, leaning to rub his nose to Simon’s fondly. 

“Good morning my love.” Simon returns his smile, tilting his head slightly so he can press their mouths together. It’s still a wonder, to wake up to him every morning this Markus knows with absolute certainty. He stretches indulgently in the new vacated space as Simon gets out of bed, and he drinks in the sight of his lover’s bare body as Simon rummages for clothes. His soft blond hair is sticking up at odd angles, a combination of their intimacy last night and Markus’ nuzzling. 

“What?” Simon clutches a shirt to his chest almost defensively when he catches Markus staring.

“I love your bedhead.” He grins, sitting up and beckoning for Simon to join him again. “It’s so cute. You look like you’ve been through a wind tunnel.”

“And whose fault is that?” Simon huffs, feigning annoyance even as he’s sliding back under the covers and straddling his lap. 

“I take full responsibility and ownership for my actions last night.” Markus vows solemnly, hands roaming up his sides. “And for this morning.”

“This morning?” Simon blinks, confused until he sees he sees a wicked grin spreading on Markus’ face. “We have a morning debrief at Jericho.”

“I’ve already ‘debriefed’ you.” He quips, the pun earning a groan from Simon. “And intend for you to stay that way for the next half hour.”  

Chapter Text

There’s a magnificent Dolce and Gabbana blue and gold damask coat hanging on the back of a chair, a remnant from last night’s CyberLife gala. Simon plucks the coat up and admires it, though it seems a little less impressive when no longer draped on Markus’ resplendent frame. A quick glance at the bed reveals his lover still fast asleep, resting longer than his usual standby cycle to recuperate from last night’s festivities. 

Simon slips the coat on and stands in front of the full length mirror, turning this way and that to admire the shimmering gold threads that glitter in the soft morning light peeping through the slats. The garment still faintly smells of Fougère d’Argent by Mr Ford, prolific fashion designer and one of Carl’s friends. Closing his eyes he pulls the lapel to cover his nose and inhales the rich, spicy cologne lingering in the fabric. Fussing over his hair a little, Simon parts it to the side and slicks it back, straightening his posture and trying to emulate the effortlessly regal air Markus seems to command around him. It’s spoiled a little by the way the coat is just a smidge too big, his lover a little broader than Simon’s slender frame and so the garment hangs a little loosely, a little too long on him.

“My clothes look better on you than they do on me.” A statement roughed by sleep and tinged with amusement, and Simon yelps in surprise as he catches Markus’ lazy grin in the mirror. 

“Hardly.” He huffs in protest, hastily attempting to shrug off the coat. His lover catches his wrist, halting him as he tugs him back onto the bed.

“You look like a prince. Blue and gold are good colours on you.” Markus muses, peppering his face with kisses as he pulls him onto his lap. “You should let me style you sometimes.”

“I look like I’m playing dressups in my boyfriend’s wardrobe.” Simon flushes in embarrassment, which only makes Markus laugh brightly and smother him in kisses. If this is his reaction, Simon thinks giddily, maybe I’ll do it more often.

Chapter Text

There’s really no reason for a man to have a bed this big. It’s pretty ridiculous, but then again so is this entire situation in which he, one 28-year-old Leo Manfred, is presently in the stupidly large silk-draped bed of Elijah Kamski. Okay so maybe they’re a thing now, a real thing and not just Leo’s unattainable high school crush, and yeah ok last night was fucking amazing but now Leo is freaking the fuck out. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way about someone, all deep ache in his chest and stupid dopey grins. There’s been guys, there’s been girls, a handful, over the past few drug-addled years but Leo can’t in clear-conscience say he really wanted anything more than the next hit and a warm body.

All this space, all this bed, and Elijah takes up just a sliver of it and Leo tries to distract himself from his rising anxiety by looking, really looking at the other man. The black silk sheets make his pale skin almost glow, and his dark hair melts into the pillowcase, splayed like threads to be gathered. Leo dares to lean in a little, leans to bump his nose against his before he’s scooting back and swallowing his panic as he scrambles out of the comically large bed and searches for his clothes. Boxer briefs are on the floor, pants are close to the door, and the rest must be somewhere in the hallway. He has to go, he has to leave before he does something, says something stupid because that’s Elijah fucking Kamski right there and he’s nothing but a recovering junkie with daddy issues. 

“Leo?” He’s barely a step over the threshold of the bedroom, freezing at the sound of his name and the huskiness of that voice. (His mind does terrible things, choosing to remind him at that very moment of how that voice sounded last night, right in his ear growling.) “Where are you going?”

“Uhhh…” He swallows thickly, steeling himself before he turns around to look at Elijah now sitting up in bed. He’s all lean muscle and pale skin, like a marble sculpture that you’re not meant to touch but Leo did anyway. “I just…I was um- I was just gonna…go.”

“Go?” 

“Yeah.” He tries to shrug casually, tries to play this off like one of the countless one-night stands he’s bolted from before but the movement is stilted and awkward. Elijah frowns, and there’s something vulnerable in his expression.

“You’re…leaving?” 

“Was just, y’know. Gonna call a cab and head home. Didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You’d need this, to do that.” Elijah reaches for the device resting on the bedside table. Leo’s phone. He wants to crawl into a hole and die. “Did I do something wrong?”

“God no.” Leo buries his face in his hands and sighs heavily. “I just- I’m-”

“Too fast?” Elijah suggests, and Leo knows that’s not true. It’s been a month since their first date, since Elijah came to Leo’s debut photography exhibit and then took him to dinner afterward. It’s not too fast at all. He’s just a coward.

“Scared.” Leo finishes lamely, shoulders drooping. 

“Were you really just going to slip out into Michigan’s January snow dressed in jeans?” Elijah cocks a brow and Leo’s leaving his cowardice at the door in favour of crawling back into that ridiculous bed and into the arms of the man he absolutely doesn’t deserve.

“I mean, I was gonna try and find the rest of my clothes.” He mumbles into Elijah’s shoulder as he tangles their legs together beneath the sheets.

“And when you got to the door and realised you’d left your phone in my bedroom?” There’s a soft amused lilt to his gravelly tone, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. “What then?”

“I’d make a mad dash for it and try and hitchhike home.” Leo deadpans, clinging to him as if to anchor himself, convince his goddamn fucking anxiety to give him a break and believe in someone real. 

“Chloe would have called you a cab if you asked her to.” 

“I don’t really want to leave.” Leo mumbles as Elijah kisses the crown of his head. “I’m just terrified I’ll fuck this up too.”

He doesn’t receive an answer to that right away, Elijah taking his time slowly pressing soft kisses along the curve of his face, his jaw, before meeting his lips. 

“I think we’re meant to figure this out together, Leo.”

Chapter Text

It seems the RK900 is methodical in every aspect of his life; even in the heat of the moment, between hungry mouths and wandering hands, he drapes his clothes over the back of a chair instead of discarding them haphazardly as Simon had done with his own. The discovery makes Simon smile delightedly as he leaves his lover to sleep in favour of snagging the plain black turtleneck from the wingback. The fabric is soft and pliant, a fine jersey knit that Simon’s admired many a time stretched over that broad athletic form. He’s not sure how he got here, how an obsolete PL600 is somehow the object of the RK900’s affection when he could literally have anyone else. But it’s Simon sharing the small, tidy apartment halfway from Jericho and halfway to Central Precinct. It’s Simon sharing the modest closet and warm bed, it’s Simon holding his hand, kissing his mouth, and tangling in the cotton sheets. 

He knows what they call Ronan, behind his back and out of earshot; The Terminator, a killing machine, an unfeeling, merciless soldier. He’s none of those things; he’s calm and gentle and patient and kind and Simon’s never felt safer, never more beloved than when he’s with him.

Pulling the turtleneck over his head and down his torso, Simon nearly snorts with laughter at his reflection in the mirror. His lover is a good few inches taller, his shoulders and chest broader, and so on Simon’s smaller frame the turtleneck looks more like a tight-fitting dress. The hem skims the tops of his thighs, the sleeves droop passed his fingertips, and the neck bunches up like a cowl neckline.  

“My clothes look better on you than they do on me.” Ronan teases lightly, and Simon laughs.

“I look ridiculous.” He turns to face him and gestures at the hemline. “This is like a lady’s dress.”

“You’ve certainly got the legs for it.” Ronan’s gaze drifts downward, roaming over his legs and back up again. Simon feels his cheeks heat. “It’s a good look.”

“I’ll wear it to the precinct Christmas party.” He declares lightly, trying to match Ronan’s amused tone but failing when he sees Ronan’s smile. “…I’m kidding.”

“Mmm I know.” Ronan tugs him back onto the bed. “But I wouldn’t be averse to you wearing it around the apartment.”

Chapter Text

The thing is, if someone had told newly deviated North that someday in December she would have a stylish little apartment in Detroit and a girlfriend in her bed, two things would’ve happened: firstly, she would’ve kicked the idiot in the teeth and told them how dare they presume anything about her, and secondly she would have outright laughed because honestly the rotting hull of that freighter felt like paradise compared to the glass prisons in Eden and she hadn’t dared hope for more. 

It’s December, and she lives in a stylish little apartment in Detroit, and Chloe is curled up in her bed wearing nothing but a soft smile and smudged lipstick. North has no idea how this happened. Well alright she has some idea. A revolution happened and she was a part of it, and Chloe along with their kooky genius creator overthrew CyberLife and somewhere along the way North fell in love. There’s a lot to love about Chloe, aside from the sexy fact she is indeed the most powerful android in the world; she’s soft and sweet and funny and gentle and patient and kind and when she giggles North’s convinced her hearts are going to give out. She’s a work of art, a little Degas as Carl Manfred calls her, and North’s...well, she’s an Eden Model. There’s a thousand more like her in Michigan alone. 

The morning sun is peeking through the windows, a spotlight burnishing her lover in gold. Chloe’s hair is soft and smells like the honey shampoo she loves, and North cards her fingers through the sunlit locks, brushing them away from that lovely face. Scooting closer, she presses little kisses over her closed eyes, the fine bridge of her dainty nose, the gentle curve of her lipstick stained mouth. Last night was a blur of hungry mouths and skillful fingers, writhing rutting bodies and hot and slick and wet and the sound of her name being gasped in her ear. The memory makes heat curl low in her belly and between her thighs and North tilts Chloe’s face so she can kiss her properly. It’s almost eight in the morning and usually Chloe is up by now.  

“Don’t pretend like you’re asleep.” North teases, nosing her playfully and kissing her again. “Should I find a way to wake you up?” There’s no response though she swears there’s the barest twitch of a smile on Chloe’s lips. Alright, North grins, she likes a challenge.

Chapter Text

It’s a rule they’ve agreed on that when they’re staying over at someone else’s place, they should behave and keep the intimacy for their own bedroom back at home. It’s just courtesy, common decency, not to take a tumble in someone else’s bed in someone else’s sheets. They’ve been very good at this, except for that one time at Reed’s when it’d been storming and her ageing car finally died and he let them sleep in the guestroom. Honestly could anyone blame her, upstanding Officer Tina Chen, when her girlfriend had been slowly peeling off her uniform, slick with rain like a second skin? There’s only so much gay a girl can handle.

Stakes are much higher this time because it’s her goddamn family and yeah ok her mother’s finally made peace with the fact she likes women after ten years of arguments and screaming matches and tears so Tina’s not about to drop the ‘hey I’m also dating an android’ bomb just yet. Which means her family’s viewing Stephanie like an assistant, like a work buddy and not the love of Tina’s life.

“At least you got an Asian one.” Her father gestures at Stephanie. “Even if she’s a halvie.” 

“Dad,” she groans tiredly, “I don’t think race works the same for androids.”

He looks Stephanie up and down, arms crossed over his chest. "你会讲中文吗？" 

“我会，公公。” She replies with a polite smile and a nod.

“看看你 娜娜 ? 找了个好姑娘。” Seemingly satisfied, he wanders off as Tina sinks into the couch with a sigh.

“Your room is ready but where do we put the android?” Her mother frowns, giving Stephanie a once over. 

“妈,” Tina groans, “you don’t need to put her anywhere she can stay in my room.”

“I suppose she can sit at your desk and recharge.” Her mother nods thoughtfully. “Don’t sleep in, your cousin’s coming over and we’re going out for breakfast.”

“Ugh, who goes out for breakfast?” Tina grumbles as her mother gives her a stern look. “Ok ok, I’ll be up and ready.”

“Set alarm for seven o’clock.” Her mother orders Stephanie.

“She’s not a phone! Oh my god!” 

“I will wake her at seven, 妈妈.” Stephanie placates, and her mother makes a face. 

“I don’t like that. Change setting to call me Mrs Chen.” She orders, and Stephanie folds her hands in front of her and nods meekly. 

“...Yes Mrs Chen.” 

“Ok good. Go to bed, Tina.”

She doesn’t slam her bedroom door because she’s thirty and not thirteen but boy does she feel that overwhelming urge to be petty. 

“I’m guessing your mother isn’t a fan of androids.” Stephanie wraps her arms around her and squeezes her close.

“She thinks they’re a waste of money.” Tina rolls her eyes. “And has largely ignored the revolution in favour of the ‘if I don’t think about them, they’re not a bother’ kind of outlook.”

“Ah.” Stephanie laughs softly, pulling the band out of Tina’s hair so she can run her fingers through it. “I hope she’ll come to like me one day.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Tina manages, not wanting to blurt out an outright ‘wouldn’t count on it’. She doesn’t want to think about her family anymore, not when she’s being held by a beautiful woman in a lovely dress she’d rather were on the floor. 

“I can feel you smiling.” Stephanie giggles. “What?”

“Nothing.” Tina shrugs, hands wandering behind her girlfriend to unzip her dress. “Just thinking that my shitty single bed from my high school days is pretty damn small.”

“Yes it’ll be quite the squeeze for us to share.” She replies airily, stepping back to let the dress drop down to pool at her ankles. “Unless you want me to sit at your desk all night like a good little assistant?”

“Shut up and get over here.” Tina growls, and tugs her onto the bed. And then there’s no more worrying about her mother or her nosey family or her goody-two-shoes cousin because there’s just Stephanie, and the smell of her perfume, the taste of her mouth and the insistent, almost merciless press of her fingers curling and rubbing and scissoring and driving Tina mad until there’s not a single thought left in her head.

Warm fingertips tiptoe up her spine, tracing the curve of her shoulder before tapping her nose playfully.

“Tina? It’s seven o’clock.” Stephanie murmurs, and Tina batts away her hand, rolling over with a groan of protest.

“No. Absolutely not.” Her lover laughs, spooning her from behind and through the hazy fog of waking up, all Tina’s brain can manage is Girlfriend Hot and Naked and Pressed Up Against Me. Oh shit. Tina bolts upright and scrambles for their clothes. “I can’t believe we did this again!” 

“Did what?” Stephanie blinks as Tina throws her bra at her.

“We- y’know.” She gestures vaguely between them. “At someone else’s house!”

“Technically this is your bed.” Stephanie points out as she clips her bra on and pats around for her underwear. “In a house that you used to live in. And is still yours, in a sense.” 

Tina pauses, jeans midway up her legs. She sits on the bed, nodding slowly. 

“I think you’ve got a point there.”  

Chapter Text

Whenever Markus comes home after being away for an extended period of time, Simon knows to clear at least the next twenty-four hours. As both a courtesy to his beloved, and to anyone else who would expect his company because once Markus crosses the threshold of the manor and all pleasantries with his father and brother are exhausted, he will take Simon to bed. And they will stay there for the next foreseeable future, because Markus is an insatiable lover and an excruciating romantic. Not that Simon minds of course. He’s learned well to squirrel away bottled thirium and suspension fluid and water in one of the drawers. 

The sun peeks through the sliver between the curtains, cutting a fine slice of gold against Markus’ face. Simon’s usually the one still fast asleep when morning comes, needing far longer than the RK unit to recoup and recharge but this time morning has arrived and it’s Markus still fast asleep. The android had arrived home yesterday afternoon after a long flight from Belgium and that meant he had jetlag to contend with and a cycle that was out of sync. Nevermind the fact it could’ve been reset smoothly had he kept his hands to himself and allowed his system the proper downtime to sync back to normal but no. Markus had unceremoniously scooped Simon up, deposited him on their bed and immediately divested him of his clothes. The rest of the day became a blur after that.

He feels him stir awake, systems slowly coming back online as he paws for Simon. 

“I’m here, love.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose playfully.

“G’mornin’.” Markus opens his green eye to peek over at him fondly. 

“Good morning.” Simon greets, pressing the next kiss to his mouth. Markus chases the contact, cupping a hand on his nape to anchor him so he can lick at the seam of his lips. The kiss deepens into something more than just a greeting, as Markus slides his tongue against his. 

“Feel like another round?” Utterly insatiable. Simon rolls his eyes though he can’t help the grin that tugs the corners of his mouth upward. 

“You still haven’t reset your cycle.” He jabs his chest accusingly. “The longer you put it off, the longer it will take for you to reconnect.”

“Mmm but it’s so nice, Simon.” Markus stretches languidly. “Everything’s a little bit hazy and motions are a little uncalibrated. Time doesn’t feel real.”

“But it’s very real and Jericho cannot stand still.” Simon reminds him patiently, and Markus pulls a pillow over his head to muffle his disappointed groan. Well. He rolls on his side and props himself up with one arm, looking at Markus’ bare chest and sculpted arms. A galaxy of freckles dotted all over his skin that spoke of constellations to be discovered. Just for Simon. Shifting, he crawls over him and straddles his hips, tugging the pillow away from his face so he can look down at his lover. 

“Let me take care of you.” He rolls his hips, rubbing insistently against his crotch to feel him grow harder. “Let me be good for you.” 

Markus grins up at him, sliding his palms along his thighs before giving them a tight squeeze and delighting in the gasp he extracts. “Baby you’re always good to me.” 

Chapter Text

Sleep is considered an indulgence for him, and even then he doesn’t tend to indulge any more than two hours at most. He is built to run for at least a week with minimal recharging, but it was his own brother who taught him that sometimes it’s pleasant to just lie down and tune out the rest of the world for a little while. So he lies down, tuning out the world, and the body curved against his is warm and pliant and oh so alive in a way he isn’t. 

Captain Allen’s phone shows there will be an alarm at 6:00am, and then another at 6:30am, followed by one at 7:00am and finishing with one at 7:30am. That means the man averages seven hours of sleep and rises early (6:00am) for a morning run (6:30am), and a yoga session (7:00am) before leaving for work (7:30am). He is a disciplined, orderly man which is reflected in both his conduct at work and here in his home life. Caleb likes that about him. Without a mission furrowing his brow, David looks younger in his sleep, hair tousled instead of slicked back and expression lax instead of hardened with intense concentration. Carefully Caleb reaches out to smooth a few unruly locks away from his face, and his eyes pick up a few glints of silver threaded through the strands. There’s something boyishly charming about him, something a little old fashioned in the way he treats Caleb, like a gentleman from a bygone era. Caleb likes that about him too.

When the human’s vitals reflect a deep REM cycle, the android quietly eases out of bed and retraces his steps to the front door, collecting their hastily discarded clothes along the way. He folds them neatly, placing them on the end of the bed ready for the morning. The apartment is large and airy, decorated in sleek, dark, masculine decor. It is aesthetically pleasing but shows little life, unlike the way Lieutenant Anderson’s home seems lived in, worn in a way this isn’t. It tells him Captain Allen is rarely home long enough to make the space feel occupied. The fridge and pantry are well stocked, and there are cooking utensils in the dish rack. Meals are stacked in containers labelled neatly with days of the week, ordered left to right in the fridge. A self-sufficient man, reliant on no one but himself. 

Caleb takes his time exploring the apartment, careful to keep noise at a minimum in order not to disturb the human slumbering in the bedroom. He lies down on the couch and connects to the obsolete MP3 player sitting in the dock, downloading the songs so he can listen to them. It passes the time in an enjoyable way, allowing more insight into the man’s tastes. At four in the morning, Connor requests to communicate with him, and he opens a channel for his brother.

[What are you doing now?]

‘I am making my way through Captain Allen’s music collection.’

[Does he have records like Hank?]

‘No but he has an obsolete MP3 player filled with songs from the mid 2000s to the late 2010s.’

[Will you stay over at his apartment often? Do you think it will lead to cohabitation?]

‘Perhaps.’ Caleb mulls on the thought, letting it turn in his mind and worm its way deep. ‘I am not sure. This is the first time we have been intimate. I am not sure what he wants to do next.’

[Curious.] Connor hums thoughtfully. [I have no such inclinations towards romantic or sexual relations.]

‘You take after our father that way.’ Caleb points out, and he thinks he can feel Connor’s smile even without seeing it. 

He slides back beneath the covers after disconnecting from his brother’s conversation. David shifts a little at the movement, and Caleb eases him into his arms. Androids are not warm like this, soft like this. Human bodies have a certain give to them, since they are muscle and fat and sinew and skin layered over a skeleton frame. He breathes him in, nose in his hair, able to analyze the chemical components of the shampoo he used in the shower earlier, and the natural oils of his scalp. His heartbeat is steady, his breathing relaxed and Caleb uses those sounds, the steady tempo, to lull him to sleep as he slowly shuts off his processes one by one, easing into stasis.

At 5:53, a full seven minutes before the first alarm, he feels David begin to stir awake. It’s a quickening of his heartbeat, a deeper inhale and exhale, a slight twitch in his fingertips and toes as his body prepares for more movement. He’s not quite conscious yet but he wriggles a little, as if chasing more warmth, more contact. Caleb presses his lips to his bare shoulder, tongue darting out to taste his skin. David huffs, squirming away from his mouth and yet tightening his arms around him. There’s arousal present in his sweat, and Caleb can feel his already half hard cock thickening between them. He kisses the juncture where his jaw meets his ear, closing his lips over the jutt of his bone and sucking mildly. David groans hands clumsily pushing at his shoulders.

“Jesus Christ Caleb it’s barely six.” His voice is an octave deeper, scratchy with sleep still and Caleb commits it to memory as his nips along his jawline, tongue laving over the stubble dotted there. Tilting his head slightly, Caleb licks up along the column of his throat before pressing their lips together briefly. The early dawn light peeks through the slats, throwing warm yellows across them, catching in David’s green eyes when he finally opens them to regard him with exasperation. 

“And you’re already hard.” Caleb teases, snaking a hand between them to palm his stiffening cock. David rolls his eyes, gritting his teeth as he gives him a squeeze. 

“God you’re impossible.” He grumbles, rutting into his hand for more friction. It takes him four tries to open his inseam, limbs still heavy with sleep and dexterity still lacking as he gropes for his cock. “Fuck I’m not awake enough for this.”

“Parts of you are.” He quips, stealing another kiss as David coaxes him to hardness. The alarm goes off, heralding six in the morning and Caleb reaches out to swipe the off option and silence it. Thirty minutes until the scheduled morning run; plenty of time. Rolling over, he tugs David to curve against his back, pressing the cleft of his ass insistently against his cock. He’s already wet, his thighs slick with lubricant. “Please?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” David nips the tip of his ear, voice still rough like gravel as he pushes inside him. Caleb arches in pleasure, mouth open in a silent cry as his body squeezes around the intrusion. He lets out a shaky sigh as David slides his hand up his abdomen, fingers rubbing over one nipple and pinching it just a little too hard. They fuck and it’s a heady, lazy affair as they chase their pleasure. There isn’t any of last night’s urgency, no trace of that animalistic desperation. It’s a slow, simmering heat coiling in his system and he keens as David hooks his hand behind his knee, lifting his leg up so he can fuck into him harder, deeper, with the new angle. Teeth clamp into his shoulder as he bites him to muffle himself, and Caleb whines needily, reaching for his own cock. David growls, smacking his hand away.

“No, you started this, you don’t get to come first.” A gutteral rasp right into his ear and Caleb nearly mewls in protest, rutting against the sheets for any sort of friction.

“ Please- !”

“Hands where I can see ‘em.” His captain commands, and Caleb grips the pillow instead. “Good.” It takes a little longer this time, because he’s still clouded with sleep but it’s no less sweet, no less exhilarating when Caleb feels him shudder, cock twitching inside him as he reaches release. Reaching around, he finally, blessedly squeezes his neglected member and jerks him off in quick, sharp tugs. His thumb lingers on the head, and when he teases his slit with the tip of his nail Caleb arches like a taut bow and comes hard into his hand with a strained cry. 

>System in cooldown

>>Minimise exertion

>>Seek fluid intake

Grinning to himself, he swats the notifications away and rolls back over to kiss his lover languidly. David’s hair is tousled, sweat dotting his brow as his chest heaves for breath. He’s looking at him with a mixture of irritation and fondness, and the sight alone makes Caleb kiss him again, soft and sweet.

“Well. That was a workout.” David bumps their brows together. “I don’t think I’m going for that morning run now.”

“I’ll change the beddings after we shower?” Caleb offers by means of an apology though he isn’t really sorry at all. “And I’ll get coffee from down the road while you do yoga?”

“Deal.” He sighs, acting put upon though the smile betrays his tone completely. One more kiss before they finally get out of bed. Suddenly David’s phone vibrates insistently on the bedside table just as Caleb receives an inbound call.

“Allen.” He answers curtly as Caleb presses two fingers to his LED.

“RK900, receiving.”

A mission. They scramble for their clothes, forgoing the shower in favour of wiping themselves down with a damp hand towel. The mellow mood vanishes in an instant, replaced with something grim. Caleb watches David withdraw into himself, step behind the veneer of the man who leads SWAT Unit 32. There he is: Captain Allen ready to command.

“Alright rookie, let’s go.”

“Yessir.” He follows him obediently to the door and the man pauses, reaching to tweak the collar of Caleb’s jacket and for a moment he glimpses him again; David offers a brief, affectionate little smile and Caleb leans down swiftly to kiss it before it vanishes. 

Onward.