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rk1kheadcanons · 4 years ago

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NSFW? Connor has a lot of stamina in the bedroom. A LOT of stamina. So much that he finds it hard to keep partners. He can make lovers 2-3 times before he gets into it, and then it takes him more peaks to really feel satisfied. Sounds great until reality sets in nobody can or wants to have sex for that long :-( Markus isn’t far above average but he’s the first person to try and work with Connor’s unusual bedroom requirements instead of just ignoring it/being disgusted by it! Connor’s keeping him

Markus was always very curious as to why Connor was so reluctant to get into a sexual relationship with him even after dating for almost three months.

He'd asked probing questions about it, previous abuse or mistreatment, or to see if it was asexuality that Connor hadn't come to an understanding with or something else much more benign like body issues.

Maybe Connor was a trans male and he just hadn't said- didn't know how to broach the topic? In any case, Markus was Pan and would still love him to the moon and back.

Let's just say when they did decide to take that plunge, nothing could describe the scenario that unfolded.

It was so...much for such a little person.

He hurt. He had hurts on top of his hurts. He thinks he pulled a hammy. His arm may be out of the socket, he does not know right now.

He just wanted to lie there, naked, uncovered, his scratch marks and bites exposed to the early morning hours as the succubus slept like a curled up adorable baby.

What about his legs? I???? How was this life?

Markus swam in and out of consciousness.

Six times... Or actually, it was right counting the oral and the- God.

They had gone at it consecutively eight fucking times and while it had been a long ass time and it felt good at the moment, Markus got a sneaking suspicion that Connor had been game for even more as he wore his hot pink flush head to toe, covered in sex bites and bruises, sweat-curled hair that was airdrying rapidly, and he bounced in place in the bed and started looking on Tumblr for shitpost to snort at post-orgasmic bliss.

Markus was trying to just breathe and remember key dates and times, his name and regain feeling in his extremities, and-

"Do you have donjuanism?"

"No, I just really, really enjoy sex."

-He says with an adorable smile that doesn't fit the profile of a real-life sex demon.

Okay, then.

Markus would do everything in his power to get his baby off but make it enjoyable for both of them, too. He's not a quitter and he loves Connor to bits and pieces so the first line of defense is to talk. They come to a consensus on a day and they take the weekend for their plan. They have lube, they have in-between snacks, and they get horny so they are ready.

This is a process and they both know that.

They both strip off those pesky clothing and they both take the time to explore each other's sensitive spots.

Connor has a freakish amount of energy, as such, could orgasm several times and then be ready to get into it. The more he comes, the higher the enjoyment of the act which then starts to affect him overall. In short, it takes several bouts of lovemaking with orgasms to make a culmination of one large experience for Connor.

Once you do reach it, which the average person has not because they have not tried to puzzle it out, you will blow his mind, short his ass out. Markus likes challenges so at the risk of life and limb, he takes up the gauntlet of horny.

What Markus lacked in one session he made up for in the skill shown in the consecutive sessions due to an amazingly short refractory period and excellent staying power and fucking size.

Connor is a size Queen and no one will shame him on that.

For everything else, they would have top of the line toys.

Markus' first major purchase for Connor was a Sybian in a lovely blue color he knew Connor loved with all the attachments he could ask for.

Markus would get that edge off of Connor then wear his ass out. He didn't care if it was him first, then the machine, then him again, or reverse of this setup, he was going to wear Connor out.

He also knows that Connor's mouth was sensitive, that he could cum from getting his throat fucked so he definitely would be incorporating that into the plans as well no memes for Connor this time or hopefully going forward.

Imagine how smug yet impossibly in love with Connor he'd be if he, by trial and error, successfully got him to not only cum satisfied because they talked about Connor's needs, but he came so hard, he drifted off to sleep in good exhaustion.

Markus would be so proud of himself and Connor would be forever sprung on this man who took the time to try to work with his 'condition.'

#rk1k #rk1000 #conkus #marnor #connor x markus #citrus #dbh #detroit: become human #dbh markus #dbh connor #ask #Anonymous #they be getting it #🌸 post

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jui-imouto-chan · 6 years ago

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Wanted to write some fluff for my dear @manadrite / @manatheauthor, who was a bit down earlier.

Thanks to @isumi828 for supplying me with some ideas!

The aroma of brewed coffee beans and the syrupy sweet scent of pastries flutter about, wafting through the air and into the noses of the patrons leisurely sipping from their warm mugs, eyes bright and and posture contented.

Forks glimmer in the soft light of sun, tiny clinks following the contact of the tips of the prongs with the small white plates below speared pieces of dessert.

A bell’s tinkle sounds from the door, a swirl of icy breeze immediately quelled by the warmth of the cafe.

“Welcome!” greets the employee behind the counter, eyes and hair mocha as the coffee he prepares. A smile can be heard in his voice, his back to the majority of the room, but clearly he knows who’s entered the building, as his hands work the machine to prepare a drink before he’s told, no one else in the queue.

He spins on the balls of one foot and smoothly transitions into bending over and sliding out a tray of pastries from the display case beneath the counter, picking a slice of raspberry cheesecake to place on a plate he collects from a shining stack nearby.

He sets a fork atop the empty space beside the desert and swipes the plate into his left hand, his other hand grabbing the handle of a mug, now filled with a cappuccino. He seems to have made a heart design in it, and upon the image becoming visible to the customers in the cafe, giggles and teasing smiles arise.

“You need a hand with that?” the man who’d entered the cafe asks the employee, adjusting his bag’s strap to free his hands and immediately moving to take the items from him.

The employee spins gracefully out of reach, grinning smugly at the mocha-skinned man sighing at him, his apron fluttering. It’s impressive, how not a drop of drink spills over the edge of the mug, despite the dangerous slosh of the scalding liquid.

His name-tag glints in the sunlight he steps past, a brief illumination of his, admittedly already quite bright countenance.

He sets the plate and mug down with barely a sound, bending at the waist with deliberation.

Once more, he twirls about on his heel like a misinformed ballerina and in that single movement undoes the bow tied at the small of his back, the apron hanging off of him, now.

“Just a moment.” He says, polite as ever. He usually sounds genially chipper, but now his voice has the adoring undertone of delight.

The mocha-skinned man settles in the cushy booth seat he always sits in, hand curling around the mug with familiarity that is not unusual for the regulars of the cafe. A smile pulls at his lips, freckled cheeks shifting with the uneven expression.

He doesn’t take a sip at any point, an observer would note, and his eyes remain in the distance, past the window he’s beside, where icicles hang precariously over the edges of roofs and gutters and drip arrhythmically, into thick bunches of snow gathered at the corners of sidewalks and roadways. One such corner has a toddler-sized disgruntled snowman sporting a tiny foil fedora.

“I’m waiting on Eli to make my hot cocoa, so I can spare a few moments for you.” the employee, sans his apron, slides into the opposite booth, his arms lain over the tabletop casually.

The tan man gasps exaggeratedly, shoulders rising as a hand moves to hover near his mouth, lush green and soothing blue wide in mock-surprise. “I honestly can’t believe that the Connor Anderson would grant me the privilege of moments of interaction! My poor heart feels blessed; I can die without regrets.”

Connor appears incredibly bemused, though his cheek twitches as he bites back laughter. He tilts his head into a palm, resting on an elbow while his fingers idly drum a vaguely familiar tune.

“Alright Drama Queen--”

“Excuse you, I prefer King of Theatrics.”

“Oh, whatever. I give up on you.” Connor’s eyes roll, but he’s finally let his lips tick up until his eyes crinkle, huffing air out through his nose.

“Aw, man, I guess North wins that bet.”

“Bet?”

“She said that you’d leave my sorry ass in less than 2 minutes.”

Connor allows a soft chuckle out and shakes his head. He moves out of the seat when there’s a call of his name. “What was your side?”

“That it’d take 3 minutes.”

And then Connor closes his eyes as a surprised snort takes over, his shoulders shaking in barely-contained laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m lovable.”

“That, too.”

And the tan man’s eyes blink rapidly, clearly not having anticipated that response. A hint of red creeps up his cheeks, and Connor smirks to himself as he collects his hot cocoa and nabs a small, pink cupcake.

Only after Connor sits back in front of him does the darker man move to slice a chunk off of his raspberry cheesecake. In lieu of bringing the bit to his mouth, he directs it to Connor’s, bumping against soft pink and leaving a small dot of hibiscus-colored-syrup. Connor’s taken off guard for a moment, but his lips eventually part to allow the dessert in, closing over the fork to drag the piece off, lashes batting in an effort to physically express the bliss he’d gotten from the taste.

The fork still hovers near his mouth, heterochromatic eyes watching his reaction raptly, and he takes his chance to snatch the utensil out of the other’s grip. He swallows and cuts another piece off of the very cake he’d tasted, spearing it.

“You’ve got to give it a try, Markus.”

Markus obligingly opens his mouth when Connor mimics his earlier actions and feeds him, savoring the taste of the sweet.

He hums in appreciation. “Good pick.”

“But of course. Only the best for you.”

His line is undercut by the teasing lilt to his voice, but Markus forgives him for that only because another slice is brought to his mouth, which he chases down with a sip of his cappuccino.

“Once again, I’m honored.”

Markus reacquires his silverware with ease and pointedly stares at the hot chocolate near Connor’s elbow, still steaming but thankfully much cooler than the piping hot chocolate-lava that Connor would insist on drinking immediately. Markus has spent plenty of time locking mouths with Connor after filling his with cold water, only for the purpose of aiding him in dealing with the consequences of his stubborn habits.

Well, okay, not only for that, but the other reasons are to be considered added benefits to his good deeds.

Connor and Markus lapse into an amicable silence, their free left hands creeping across the tabletop, until Markus’ rests atop Connor’s, thumb stroking over the back of his hand.

They almost don’t appear to notice the contact, perhaps from how naturally such actions of affection come to them.

“Am I keeping you?” Markus asks, his mug clicking as he sets it down.

Connor blinks, then shakes his head. “No, no. Eli’s got me covered, and it’s a little slow right now. I think you guys are stealing our business for today.”

Markus can’t help the smug grin crawling up his face. “If only we could steal one of the employees, here, too.”

“I’d rather French Sumo than join you heathens.”

“I’m hurt, really, I am. I’m also going to go legally change my name to Sumo Manfred.” Markus’ fingers dance up Connor’s arm and then move back down so he can intertwine them with Connor’s.

“Oh? Such drastic measures, when all you’d have to do is ask and receive.”

Markus finger’s jump, and Connor gives him a squeeze the same time he sends over his favorite methods of stopping Markus’ thought processes and heart at once: a cheeky, mischievous wink.

Markus groans, dropping his fork to shield his face and cover his eyes. “Oh my god, stop. You know I have a weakness for that. --In Josh’s words, ‘you put the wink in twink’.”

Connor scoffs, affronted, but not really. “Josh can catch these hands.”

“Your twinkie-fingered hands.” Markus sing-songs, wriggling his digits.

Connor’s hand tightens over his, painfully squeezing with his lithe ‘twinkie-fingers’. “I will end you.”

“You love me too much.”

A frustrated sigh, and then, “Ugh, why do you have to be right?” Connor shoots Markus a glare when the taller laughs at him, though his scowl may well be a pout, in Markus’ book, with all the effect it has.

“Aw, it’s okay that you have twink hands, babe. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Connor stands, collecting their dirtied plates and mugs with a huff. “Yeah? Well, you’ve got big, meaty, claws.”

“You did not just--”

“Oh, but I did.”

There’s a vindictive satisfaction that takes over Connor’s face as Markus growls.

Markus moves to follow him out of the booth, his messenger bag all but forgotten on the seat, and Connor dances out of the way of his searching hands with all the grace he can muster. Can’t let Markus get too handsy in his workplace, now can he?

He places them on the back counter to take them to the sink, later, about to address Markus’ sulky frown, but the bell’s jingle and a momentary brush of cold air makes Connor snap his attention to the potential customer entering the cafe, cheery disposition coming forth.

“Welcome, how may I--North?”

“Oh, shit, North?!”

Markus makes to hide behind Connor, but, thanks to the factors that are too numerous to list, he’s spotted and approached with a frighteningly calm and blank expression.

“You’re supposed to be working right now. I’ve got Alice taking orders at this point, the fuck are you doing?”

She swipes her hand to Markus’ ear to pinch it between her thumb and fingers and drags him out of the cafe, giving him an earful. Connor laughs nervously, waving to his boyfriend as he goes and watching Markus feebly attempt to return the action and receive a swift smack to the back of the head, the spike of fear that had shot up Connor’s spine upon North’s arrival thankfully dissipating.

He’s only just turned to the back counter when the door slams open, the bell a cry of alarm, and footsteps advance on him rapidly.

Connor’s arm is grabbed and he’s spun around and dipped, and then lips meet his gaping mouth to give him a fleeting but passionate kiss, in front of all of his customers, before he’s set upright and released.

His cheeks burn with mortification and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest surge of arousal, as he uncomprehendingly watches Markus dart to their booth to retrieve his bag and take off out the door, the blast of winter air doing nothing for his heating face.

There’s a wolf-whistle from the back room, followed by muted giggles, and Connor inwardly curses his boyfriend.

Outwardly, he groans and slumps against the counter, panting softly.

Elijah’s never going to let him live this down.

#markus rk200 #connor x markus #markus x connor #markus dbh #markus detroit become human #connor dbh #connor rk800 #conkus #marnor dbh #marcon #rk1k #rk1000 #rk1k dbh

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