Comfort Zone (Connor x Reader)

Forty-Five

(Okay, wow, this one absolutely needs a Mature Warning. Cause holy shit this glass of lemonade got detailed. But if this is the kind of lemonade people like, then I'll keep trying.)

As much as you'd wanted a shower, moving around seemed to be too much of an effort for you. Your forehead pressed to the tiled wall, hot water beating against your bare skin as you tried to reason your way out of the request the android had given you.

It's not like I... I mean... I don't NOT want to... but I told him that one day was going to be it. We can't..... we can't afford this. I can't tell him we need to keep things friendly and then turn around and let him explore this newfound kink. He'll make me a hypocrite, and it's not a good example...

I need to refuse.

Finally pulling from the wall, you showered properly, taking your time so you could avoid denying Connor as long as possible.

But knowing the kind of disappointment that would fill his eyes, it made you falter. Would it honestly be so terrible to give in?

This is just gonna be one of those lifetime situations where he convinces me, and then we agree to not do it again. A vicious cycle of helping a detective prototype get off.

The sigh from your nose was drowned out by the rushing spray of water. Hair cleaned, you snatched the pouf from its hook along with your body wash.

Honestly... trying not to let each of us get attached... I couldn't stop crying last night. I knew he was gonna be fine, but... damn it, they kept pouring. Giving in won't help either of us. I HAVE to refuse.

...... even if he did literally take a bullet. Maybe that-- Fuck. No. I'm looking for reasons to say yes.

Frowning as you washed, you wanted to focus on the shower itself, but your head had other plans while you scrubbed. Every time you'd pull the Roomba from your thoughts, it took all of five seconds for him to return. The lingering grasp of his hand around your throat sent a painfully familiar rush to your core.

No. No. Stop. Fucking hell, stop.

Pouf in hand, you dragged your brain back to reality... until your hand grazed your inner thighs in a gentle manner, another rush bearing down until you bit your lip to prevent any sort of vocalization. Cheeks burning from things other than the water, it took all of your willpower not to just drop the fucking sponge and relieve the pressure by hand, yourself.

...... then again, he'll come running if I shout for him.

--AUGH WHAT THE FUCK.

Making the most of your irritation, you finished your shower in record time, shutting the water off and yanking the towel from the shelf nearby. The drying job was sloppy at best, but you wrapped the towel around you securely; grabbing clothes to change into had apparently escaped your mind. But the bathroom was in the hall, and with the android in the kitchen, he wouldn't see anything when you'd emerge.

Of course, if he was in the fucking hallway, that went out the window. Needless to say, you froze after taking one step, seeing Connor's eyes soak you in before lifting an eyebrow. He'd been walking to his room when you emerged... and now was just standing there.

Both of you had brightly colored faces, and you had a grip on the towel to keep it shut. You still had a good amount of aching pressure between your legs, and the fact that the RK800 kept studying you wasn't making it easier. "Please move so I can get to my room," you mumbled.