What Makes Them Human - Detroit: Become Human

Chapter Seventeen - You're Fucking Dead!

Connor sits outside the car, watching a bird as it pecks at a tree happily. The sound of which is something he enjoys, it's peaceful. The sound of nature, no hassle. Just trees. This seems like somewhere he'd want to live. The snow's close to being all melted, just sporadic patches of white litter the ground.

He keeps thinking of last night. It was possibly the most pleasure he's felt in his entire life. Something about having James on top of him, whispering into his ear made him feel ways he didn't know were possible. It was ecstasy. Through and through.

The car begins to shuffle, and James has presumably gotten up. Connor spent the night looking up different positions and sexual activities. Some of which intrigued him more than others. And some made him feel deeply uncomfortable.

Apparently, some people like to be peed on. And like to have entire arms up them. That wasn't something Connor wants to explore, and James didn't either. But then there are the different positions. He found nearly a hundred different possible positions. He could hold James in his arms and do it, he could push him against a wall and do it, he could even do it with him in water. But that sounds a lot more pleasurable on paper than in practice.

There really is an entire world of physical pleasure he can explore now that he has James. He's not just having sex for information, or because of some stupid mission. It's just to feel. And it feels good.

"Morning." James groans from behind him, sitting down and leaning his head onto Connor's shoulder.
"We should wait until the night before we try and cross," Connor announces, once again like it's a thought he's been having for many days. Never something off the top of his head.
"Yeah I was thinking the same thing," James then presses a kiss onto Connor's neck, "But what're we gonna do until then?"

James is young, his libido is at the height of his life. Alone with Connor, time to kill, what else would he think to do?
"We should scope out the area," Connor says, completely missing the innuendo James was producing. He looks to Connor with a smile.

Suddenly, blue blood splatters onto James's face. Connor and him look down to see a hole in his arm. The threat didn't even register until another gunshot echoed out, blowing apart the car's windshield.
"Run—!" Connor screams, grabbing James by his wrist and pulling him into a sprint. Not questioning a thing about the gunshots, just running.

Without a car they rush through the woods, not looking back to see if they're being followed. It's not worth the risk of tripping. They fly past tree after tree, jumping over rocks and exposed roots until they find a clearing. They burst into an old parking lot, an abandoned building in front of them.

Connor runs up to a dirty window, breaking it open hastily before jumping inside. He outstretches a hand, pulling James inside the dusty building. An exposed shard of glass cuts open his knee, the crunch of debris under his sneakers as he regains his footing inside.

They don't stop for even a moment, the second they're inside they're once again running. Connor uses his shoulder to bust down a door, finding himself in an old-looking office building. James stumbles in behind him. Two sets of double doors are on separate walls. They decide to try the ones closest to them.

James puts his hands on the door handles, trying to open them only to find them locked. The doors are made of metal, they cannot be broken down.
"Hands up." A voice calls about from behind them, a manly yet somewhat young voice. James and Connor both do as they're told, hands up above their heads as they stare at the door. Once again not looking back to see who's behind them.

"You're making a mistake." James threatens the stranger, he's killed someone before. He can do it again. There's a slight scoff from behind them,
"Turn around. Slowly." The stranger demands. Upon turning around James is met with someone he's never seen before in his life. Scruffy and douchey looking. A gun held in his right hand, aimed directly at them with precision.
"Hello, Detective Reed." Connor blurts out in a strangely relaxed tone. Almost snarky.
"You know him?" James asks, hands beginning to shake as he realizes just how cornered they are at this moment.
"Somewhat."