Detroit Become Human x Readers

Close (Connor x M!Reader)

When you offered to hold a movie night at your apartment with your friends, you were more than surprised to find them jump at the chance. Happy, but surprised. With cases stacking by the second and the aftermath of the Android rights revolution, work was getting hectic. You felt you and your coworkers (the ones you liked, anyway) needed a break. To kick back, relax and watch some inane film all three of you could make fun of.

And you would have loved to, had Hank not passed out lengthways on your couch before the movie had even begun, leaving a large, soft armchair as you and Connor’s only option of seating. What was even more frustrating was that Hank seemed to be fully aware of what he was doing, insisting that ‘you boys head to the store down the street to get some more drinks’ while he prepped the movie.

He hadn’t prepped the movie. He hadn’t even turned on the tv. No, he was just lying there. Snoring. Leaving you and Connor stood up and dumbfounded.

“Should… should we move him?” You asked, setting down the soda pop and chips you’d so valiantly gone to fetch. Connor shook his head.

“No, I think that would only anger the lieutenant.” That hadn’t exactly stopped Connor before, but you weren’t about to argue with him. You didn’t have the energy, you just wanted to put on this stupid film and pass out. With your things deposited you moved towards the carpeted floor, going to sit down when Connor caught your arm.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he tilts his head, giving you a long and curious look. You frowned and gave him a shrug.

“I’m sitting on the floor. You’re a guest, you take the seat.” This answer didn’t seem to satisfy Connor, who looked back to the overstuffed armchair, decked in blankets and pillows.

“But… the chair is big.” He was right. It was huge, but not big enough to fit two people without a lot of contact. Continued, contact. Thighs touching, shoulder to shoulder, arms around each other. And while that wasn’t exactly contact you would… dislike, it wasn’t something you wanted to pressure Connor with.

“So?” You asked, lightly pulling your arm from his grip as it fell, and then raised to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he was nervous. He opens his mouth, speaking in a voice much lower than you’re used to.
“It would fit both of us.” Faster than you can react your entire face warms up, your ears burn and you fingers fiddle at your sides. Connor goes to sit and budges up a bit, looking quite flustered himself.

“I… guess. Yeah.” You swallow thickly, taking a seat beside Connor. You’re hyperaware of the heat coming from his body as you sit, shoulder to shoulder. Thigh to thigh. Just like you’d described, just like you’d imagined.

The film starts, but you don’t pay attention to a single word. No, all that you’re aware of his the warmth radiating from Connor. The whirring of his mechanic insides, and the sudden, slow tapping of his finger on your thigh.

You knew Connor had nervous ticks but this? How was this fair? Did he know what he was doing to you? Did he know how you were feeling? How you looked? You cast a glance to the side and find his eyes fixed on your face, the slightest smirk on his lips as he tilts his head.

“Your heart rate has increased to 120 bpm.” He tells you, and you’re now very aware of just how close the stupid armchair has put you. When he turns, his chest is only a few centimetres from pressing right up against yours. You try to ignore the dry taste in your mouth and nod.

“Sure is. Intense movie, y’know?” You say, and he raises an eyebrow.

“We are watching Ponyo. And it’s a film you’ve on multiple occasions.” You bite your lip and try to ignore the slightly tousled look his hair has going on right now.

“S-So we are.” You nod, and the smirk pulls into a full, cheeky smile. Oh, this motherfucker.

“Am I making you nervous?” He asks, and you do your best to act nonchalant.

“No.” The second it’s out of your mouth you feel a hand move near your neck, brushing at the juncture where it met your jaw. Your eyes, your attention. It was all focused on Connor now.

“And now? Are you nervous?” He asks, and you suck a deep breath in, steadying yourself. Moving a hand up his chest, your fingers play with his tie, before gripping it in a tight fist and pulling him close. You really hope the bottle of whiskey Hank downed was enough to keep him asleep through this.

“I don’t know. Are you?” You respond, only to be answered by a swift kiss. Connors’ hands rest on your cheek and your hip, while yours grip at his shirt, letting his lips meld and move against yours. They’re colder than you anticipated, but that’s okay. It’s nice to relieve yourself of some of the burning sensation you’d felt while he’d been so close.

You part from him quickly, running out of breath too quick for your own good. You worry for a moment that Connor will forget you need to breathe, when his arms wrap around you, pulling you up onto his lap, burying his face into your hair.
Where there once was heat you, now you just feel comfort. Breathing slowly, at a calming pace, face pressed into Connors surprisingly soft chest. The sounds of the film running distant in the background.

“I… think I like you,” Connor mumbles, and you let out a short laugh, biting your lip to try to keep quiet.

“I’d fucking hope so,” You shoot back, pulling back to look at his face, before leaning in to mumble against his lips. “Because I really like you.”