Leaning once more, the android pressed a kiss to your throat, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. Hands flat on the tabletop, he tried to pull out and away, but your legs were locked around his waist. "... Detective...?" he questioned, all his dominance giving way to his sweeter side. "Is something wrong?"

Your mouth worked, face not entirely cooled off. "... when you pull out there's gonna be a mess. How are we gonna clean it?"

Good point. His dark eyes darted around, scanning the interior of the building and making calculations. The cameras were disabled only in that room; he'd have to venture out to retrieve supplies.

Watching his yellow LED for a moment, you reached and turned his head to face you again. "Is there a spare shirt I can change into?"

There were plenty of clothes for multiple reasons. "Of course. Just tell me what.... your..... pref...er..ences...... are.........."

Your top had come off, held out for him to use for the time being, which left you in just your bra... and showed the skin graft that covered nearly all of your upper right arm. "Use this first, then go snag me another shirt, please." The shirt was taken but no effort made to do anything else. "...... Connor. Come on. Get rid of that screensaver, honey."

It was like you'd tased him: the RK800 shook himself hard for a mere moment, eyes wide, before his apologetic smile appeared. "Forgive me. I... I know I'd seen it before, but your scar is fascinating."

"Mm, yes, discolored skin and a constant reminder. Riveting." The sarcasm would have gone on had your Roomba not slowly pulled out of you, forcing a drawn-out moan from your throat as you were left empty.

You were taken care of first before himself, then the ruined top situated under you just in case there was further leakage. With warm cheeks Connor fixed himself again, flashing his crooked smile. "Give me one minute and eighteen seconds," he murmured, leaving the room once he was presentable again.

Left mostly naked on the interrogation room table, you sat up and actually counted the seconds away. What else were you supposed to do? At precisely 78 seconds the door opened again, the android stepping in with some sanitizing products and another shirt over one shoulder. "I kept count. You're right on time, of course," you added, chuckling.

"Actually, I waited outside the door for four seconds." Helping you onto your feet, Connor became the crutch until your legs could hold you upright. Head close to yours while he supported you, he whispered, "How did I do? Oscar-worthy?"

With a snort and subsequent giggle, you shook your head. "I'm pretty sure they don't hand out Oscars for sex scenes."

"...... then how did I do?"

Mostly able to stand on your own, you reached and tugged the RK800 down into a kiss, immediately returned. "Well, I wanna leave and go back to the apartment so you can fuck me against every wall. So what does that tell you?"

Connor's expression was a beautiful mix of shock and embarrassment, with a fresh layer of need on top. Rendered silent, he waited for you to start dressing before he sanitized the table. Heavily.

Once he was finished, he found you standing in an unusual position: mostly with your legs further apart than necessary. Glancing over your shoulder, you sighed. "Congrats. Walking fucking hurts."

"You played with fire. I warned you about the consequences. You told me to burn you." There was a mischievous glint in Connor's eyes, reciting word for word what you'd told him during his interrogation. "Let your body heal before we begin counting the walls in the apartment," he added, throwing a wink in for flavor.

■□■□■

Days passed before Saturday arrived. Not that it fucking mattered; Gavin slept on and off to the point his sleep schedule was ruined. He still managed to wake up at ten that morning, rubbing his face and wandering the hall, towards the sounds in his kitchen.

The RK900 hadn't been kidding about staying with him. Cloud had settled in already, since he had no personal belongings with him, and when he slept it was on the couch. He barely fit but made no complaint.

The android had shucked his long white CyberLife coat off, draping it over the back of a chair, before going to wash the dishes in the kitchen. The sleeves of his black, high collared dress shirt were neatly rolled up past his elbows, and even while doing this dull task of washing dishes, he had a stoic, commanding presence.

That presence shattered as he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. His smile lit up his eyes and made him seem more alive. "Good morning, Detective Reed. Please allow me to finish here before I prepare breakfast. Just let me know what you'd like."

The human male stood solidly in the hallway threshold, barely conscious but feeling more like himself than he had lately. "What the hell are you doing?"

Cloud eyed him over his shoulder again. "I beg your pardon?"

"I mean why the hell are you cleaning my house? You don't have to do anything. Let me take care of my own shit, goddamn..." Reed hadn't bothered with a shirt, but did have the decency to wear pajama pants, at least. He paused, staring at the android who stared right back. "...... you gonna answer me? Why are you cleaning?"

Giving a tight-lipped smile, the RK900 tilted his head a fraction. "I want to feel useful. So you have less to worry about. I've intruded in your life and so I am trying to win favor, one clean dish at a time." Turning back to his task, Cloud added, "I've recorded last night's game for you, by the way. Based on the memorabilia I've seen thus far, I knew you would have liked to watch it."

Game? Scratching his head, the human meandered into the kitchen, yawning wide. He couldn't really be that pissed off if the mechanical beanpole wanted to be a maid. "What game? The fuck are you yammering about?"

Already finished, the android dried his hands and shut the faucet off before turning to face the shorter male. "Last night's hockey game, Detective Reed. Considering it was a home game for your Red Wings, I thought you'd have liked to see it when you woke up."

Hazel eyes studied the android a little. "Okay, so... as creepy as it is that you fucking record a hockey game for me unprompted, what is it with you Buffalo people and hockey?" Cloud tilted his head, so Gavin went on. "I mean, okay, fine, her I can understand. But you're a goddamn rice cooker. You don't have any interests--....."

Watching the human's body language spiral down into apathy, the RK900 approached carefully. "... Detective, I am not offended. And yes, it is unusual for a prototype to have interests like these, but I am a product of my surroundings. My sunflower enjoys professional hockey games very much, and I've accompanied her many times. As a result, I've grown fond of it, as well."

Shifting his weight, the apathy that weighed Reed down was slowly lifting from his shoulders, giving way to curiosity. "All right. So you know the rules and shit, I'm guessing. Tell me something... interesting."

"In 1999 the Dallas Stars and the Buffalo Sabres were competing in the Stanley Cup Finals. While Dallas were the favorites and had dominated the regular season, Buffalo proved that they were not to be underestimated with a roster full of bruisers. Both teams had hall of fame goaltenders, who ironically had been teammates in the beginning of their careers. The 1999 Finals are still talked about today because in Game Six, Brett Hull of the Stars attempted to score a goal over Buffalo's Dominik Hasek in the net, but his skate was over the line before the puck was. All that season the NHL had been enforcing the rule that the goal did not count with a player over the line before the puck, unless they clearly had possession. In that game there was no clear determination whether or not Hull had the puck, but the NHL chose that one time not to enforce their rule; the goal was considered legal, and Dallas took home the Stanley Cup. From that point on, Buffalo can only say "No Goal" when referring to that season." His reply was thorough, immediate, and sort of scary, since his tone steadily grew bitter. Cloud got in the human's face, his irritation more obvious up close. "That game was in triple overtime, Detective Reed. Triple! And if the league was so adamant on enforcing that rule, why would they let that one moment go?! Were they afraid of backlash, since they'd already given Dallas the Cup?! There is no way to know for certain if Buffalo would have won that year, but the point remains that a professional sports organization cannot select when their own rules count!!"

He honestly had no words. The android had genuinely gotten himself worked up over something he hadn't even been activated to see. It was decades ago, but the passionate rant made it seem like the emotional wound was still fresh. Reed knew that it was most likely you who were so passionate about it, but your partner had heard about it, many times, and the passion had carried over. Now this prototype had become a being that truly enjoyed something, and maybe there was more. "All right, then, Shark. You wanna let some of that angry bitching out? I've got an idea."

Cloud stared at him, unable to process what he'd been called. "... Shark, Detective?"

With a grin he hadn't shown in days, Reed peered over his shoulder en route to his bedroom. "Yeah, Shark. If I call Connor a Roomba, you're a Shark vacuum. Let me get dressed enough to go outside; I'm not about to freeze my nips off." By the time he emerged again, dressed for the outdoors, the RK900 had pulled his white jacket on but was unable to wipe the puzzled expression off. "All right, then, come on," Gavin spoke up, leading him through a side door into his garage. The garage door slowly rolled up with the push of a button, and the human waved a hand. "Outside. Go. Wait at the end of the driveway, I gotta find my shit."

Curious, the android did as he was commanded. If the human he'd promised to mind was willing to go outside and entertain some strange notion, he wasn't going to make him hesitate. But Reed returned with two hockey sticks, one he handed over, and a puck, before going to close the garage door again. "...... what exactly are you asking of me?"

Holding up said puck, the human grinned again. "You got your ass all worked up over some hockey shit from decades prior, so I wanna see you shoot." His eyes gazed at the driveway. "I mean... it's not ice, but I don't fucking care." With a seconds' worth of maneuvering Gavin had the puck bouncing off the opposite end of his stick. It was clearly a well-practiced trick, and his cocky grin said as much. "I'm a little rusty, but... fuck it," he spat, letting the puck drop as he brought the stick back far, then sending the black disk flying forward against the garage door with a bang.

The RK900 seemed more interested in the man who'd shot the puck than the action itself. "Your form is far from rusty, Detective Reed. I believe if you were to warm up first, that shot would go considerably faster."

"Probably. I'm too fuckin' busy at the precinct to practice." Fetching the puck again, the shorter male returned to the end of his driveway and tossed the puck to the android, who caught it instantly. "Go on. Give it a shot. You've seen enough hockey, I'm sure I don't gotta explain the basics to you, Shark."

Eyeing the object, then the stick he'd been given, Cloud glanced at Reed. "Perhaps a longer stick would be beneficial..." Still. The puck was dropped to the cement, then the stick turned a little bit, so he could get a feel for it.

[Should I warn him? ...... no.]

Much like the human had done, the android shifted, wound the stick back, then gave what Reed would have known as a slapshot. But where the initial shot had simply hit the garage door and fell to the pavement... Cloud's shot had gone through the sturdy metal door.

"Oh mio fottuto Dio..." came the voice beside the tall male, hazel eyes wide.