robothell | ROOOOOBOT PROOOOM

"I'm very drunk," First Aid corrects.

The gentle stroking along his back, between his kibble, makes the medic shiver, his field rippling with pleasure. He goes limp on top of Rampage, practically flattening out. He enjoys it a little bit more than he probably should, his engine purring at the touch.

"Hobby?" Who interfaces as a hobby? Probably lots of people but at the moment it just makes him snort. "Yeah, I wish. I'd have to do it a lot more. Interfacing feels good. It's fun."

He pauses, then adds. "It's also part of health, so mmm there's that."

Rampage laughs at that, then lets out an involuntary huff at the feeling of First Aid against him, both the warmth and vibration on his chest and the pleasant taste against his spark. Pleasure with an edge. It's... Nice. Nice enough that he keeps stroking, touch growing a bit firmer.

"Then why don't you?" he asks. "If it's as fun as you say I'm sure someone would indulge you."

Go do your weird sport more, First Aid.

"...How is it part of health?"

"It's not that easy. I have a type."

There was no way that Rampage was doing that completely innocently, right? The warm stroke of large hands over his struts has First Aid groaning into the mech's shoulder, his fans spinning a little quicker. His hands flex against Rampage's armor, hooking around the curve of a plate and pressing in his finger.

"You keep doing that and I'm going to end up giving you a hands-on demonstration."

"A type?"

Not completely innocently, but rather thoroughly ignorantly! His hands still when First Aid groans, though he knows he hasn't hurt the little medic. There's no fresh pain coming from him, only that oddly intoxicating pleasure, hot and heady and making him feel a bit lightheaded. Though maybe he's just getting a bit proximity drunk off First Aid's own inebriation.

He looks slightly embarrassed when First Aid calls him out on his touches and he mumbles defensively, "It feels nice."

Then he fully processes what First Aid just said. "Demonstrate... interfacing?"

Admittedly, First Aid is disappointed when he stops, but his engine is still purring with a level of content. He hums, lifting his head for a brief moment to look at Rampage's face, uncertain if the pleasant fuzziness in his frame was from drunkenness or the charge buzzing through his frame.

"Like... these are only certain traits I find attractive."

Most mechs weren't as picky as him. First Aid had decided it wasn't really a flaw in his personality, but rather just a quirk.

"Not necessary full-on fragging..."

Rampage is starting to think that the anatomy guide wasn't nearly as informative about interfacing as he'd assumed. He'd figured knowing the mechanics of things basically covered it but... There's attraction involved? And what is there opposed to full-on fragging?? Just like... putting the equipment near each other instead of inside of each other?

His horns slowly droop with confusion, and finally he says, "Let's just pretend for a moment that I don't know anything about interfacing beyond how the plumbing works and start from there."

The confusion radiating off Rampage's expression was clear enough the concepts were almost tangible as they went over the mech's head. First Aid decided he was far too drunk to really give an elaborate medical lesson-- he's done that a few times, luckily, to newborns, but in those scenarios he wasn't exactly in a position of, you know, possibly fucking them.

Oooh, gosh. What a rabbit hole he's gone down.

First Aid smooths a hand over his helm, making a slightly perplexed and thoughtful sound, and then flops it back down.

"If you wanna, just keep doing what you were doing and it'll come naturally. But if you do, I wanna kiss you, except I want to kiss you here--" he taps a few of his fingers on the center of Rampage's chest plates.

Rampage has never really thought about interfacing before but, well, so far whatever he's doing with First Aid right now has been pretty swell. Hesitantly, he returns to stroking the small bot's back.

"Kiss my... chest?" he asks, brow furrowed slightly. "I'm not stopping you."

The idea of First Aid kissing him gets more of a reaction from him than the idea of fragging him. He knows about kissing. Kissing is affectionate. Not that he cares. His spark is definitely not fluttering at little at the thought.

"I was kinda hoping to kiss the gem in the package." There was the fact that First Aid was rather fond of sparks in general, and involving them in interfacing was one of his favorite things, but it's not always other mech's preference.

He can feel that little ripple of interest in his field and the warmth beneath him though, and that's good enough for him.

The great thing about getting his plating rubbed was that, if he disassociated it from any sexual connotations, it still felt great. First Aid was still admittedly sore, and the firm stroke of large fingers over his back had him melting back into strutlessness.

"Mm, like that."

As the large panels of kibble along his back shift to pull away from his frame, the medic nuzzles his mask into the smooth armor on Rampage's chest, a little zap of static snaping between the curve the panels.

It takes him a moment to unravel that particular euphemism, but it earns First Aid a startled look. His surprise doesn't stop his hands from moving, though, and his large fingers press curiously over First Aid's frame as he shifts about panels.

"My... spark?" He frowns a bit. "But it's not... right."

He takes in a short, sharp intake at the little static kiss, shifting slightly under First Aid. He's really starting to feel warm now, inside and out, and the pleasant feelings surrounding him keep him calm.

"Did I stutter?" First Aid's tone is dry, since really, he wouldn't have asked otherwise.

There's the fact he's never seen it, but Rampage has indicated quite a few times his spark is different. He's fairly prepared for anything at this point, and being drunk might actually work in his favor right now.

His engine is purring again, vibrating against the crab mech's stomach plating, and already he rocks his hips against him, plating scraping lightly.

It's not like he hasn't showed his spark to people before. Sometimes it's even been entertaining, trying to disturb them with his spark-that-shouldn't-be. First Aid is different, though. He likes First Aid. He doesn't want the little medic to look at him in disgust like the scientists so often did.

However, the warm vibrating press of First Aid against him is awfully persuasive. He's never really felt quite so good physically before, and with First Aid's pleasure throbbing warm against his spark, he finds he can't resist.

Looking away, he lets his chest plating part. It's not the typical shade of a point-one-percenter, his spark pulsing with a sickly green light. The surface of it churns and swirls, as if disturbed by squirming things beneath its surface.

Core on display, Rampage tenses and awaits judgment.

First Aid has seen quite a few odd sparks, but what Rampage shows him when his chest plating parts is a new one. He pushes himself up, his gaze locking onto one of the ripples on the surface and following it until it disappears beneath.

"Holy slag, what a spark," he breathes.

First Aid watches it for a moment longer, shifting against Rampage so his legs spread and parted enough to straddle him, and then he reaches both hands towards him. He touches gingerly at first, cautious in case of any unexpected surprises, but when nothing comes of it his fingers slip into the bared chest, cupping the casing with both palms.

"That feel okay?" He leans forward, thumbs tracing the warm core metal, and bumps his mask against the larger mech's mandibles.

Rampage flinches reflexively at First Aid's words. But there's no horror or disgust or anything negative from First Aid. Just... Interest.

Years of conditioning have him cringing and tense as small hands reach into his chest cavity, and he has to resist the urge to snap his chest shut. But First Aid has never tried to hurt him before, and it would be foolish for him to try now.

He still can't stop himself from bracing for pain, and almost doesn't notice the soft touches at first. Then he feels the warmth of First Aid's hands around his core and-

"Oh." His optics go wide, all his horns laying back in surprise. His grip on First Aid tightens and he arches slightly, optics dimming as his spark brightens, surface churning like a poisonous-looking storm. "Oh!"

His spark exerts a pull, not strong, but not unlike a magnet trying to attract something to its surface. This close First Aid can probably feel the tug.

The tug is noticeable, like an invisible force pushing him forward, but it isn't unpleasant. Resisting it makes a little rush of thrill run through his system, his visor flickering as he smooths his palms over Rampage's core. The flicker of energy against his palm tickles and his own plating clicks in response.

"Oh, look at you," he hums, chasing a ripple of energy across the surface with two curved knuckles. "So gorgeous."

The light of the spark doesn't bother him, and the strange rippling was intimidating, but when no harm comes to him from touching it he settles into a rhythm of stroking.

"Your spark is the most sensitive interface organ in your frame. You want to pop one off quick, just open up and give a few rubs and you'll bee seeing stars in minutes."

Bright points blossom on Rampage's spark everywhere that First Aid touches, following his fingers in trails and slowly fading behind them.

He can feel energy surging and swelling from his spark to spread out across his body, filling him with heat. It feels good. Impossibly too good. Far better than he deserves, and he's struck with an urge to pull away in shame, countered by a selfish desire for more, more, more. So he remains, squirming under First Aid's touch and letting loose an overwhelmed whine.

He hardly hears First Aid as he speaks, lost in the sweet pleasure being drawn out of his twisted core. He's vaguely aware of heat building between his legs and a sudden release of pressure as pelvic plating folds open.

Just watching Rampage would have probably done it for First Aid, but he can feel him shifting helplessly beneath him, making him have to adjust with each buck and arch. That really does it for him and his venting hitches as his frame heats, his spark pulsing a little faster.

"Don't hold back. It's okay to let go," he encourages, rubbing the tips of his fingers along the rims of the casing. He lets the energy tangle around each digit and pulls back, playing with the magnetic pull.

He feels the heat and shift of the mech's interface array behind him before he really registered hearing it. First Aid aches to turn and look, but his focus was on the green spark pulsing between his palms. The medic groans, his own frame throbbing with need, wanting to be touched, his port already gathering lubricant.

Rampage clutches helplessly at First Aid, and even trying to remind himself to be gentle the smaller mech will probably end up with a few more dents in his frame tonight.

He whines louder, venting heavily, the pleasure of First Aid's fingers on his core simultaneously too much and not enough. And yet it keeps building and he can't help but arch into that sweet touch until he doesn't think he can take anymore.

Then something gives, a massive surge of charge that sends him reeling, blazing across his circuits and whiting out his vision. His hearing is filled briefly with static so he can't hear it when he screams out loud.

As the plating crunches beneath Rampage's palm, First Aid holds in a hiss at the sting, keeping his attention focused on the rising crest of energy rippling through the mech's frame. It's infectious; he shudders as the electricity arcs and bounces over to his own body, gasp involuntarily ripping from his vocalizer.

First Aid reaches one hand to his face, pressing into the corners of his mask and practically throwing it away. He makes good on his promise for a kiss as Rampage's overload washes over him, pressing soft, light kisses to the edging of the casing.

Rampage's spark throbs against First Aid's lips, sending little jolts of electricity across them that slowly fade as the overload burns itself out.

Coming down, Rampage sags against the rubble supporting him, feeling like all his support struts have turned to putty. He's vaguely aware of wetness between his legs, more aware of his hands on First Aid. He quickly loosens his grip on the medic and tries to mumble an apology.

All he manages is a long moan.

First Aid licks his lips as he pulls back, tingling from the charge. He feels a bit naked without his mask -- he's often debated having his face removed again -- but lips do come in handy sometimes.

He presses soft kisses to Rampage's cheeks as soon as he's able to move, careful not to lean too much into his open chest plating. The medic laughs light and airy, his vocalizer a little staticy from the charge still coursing through him.

"That was an overload. What do you think?"

"Oh," is the first thing Rampage manages to say, staring blankly up at the battered metal roof of their impromptu den. "That was- I didn't expect-"

His fans hitch and he glances down to meet First Aid's gaze. He didn't realize he was capable of feeling that good or that a spark - his spark - could bring so much pleasure.

He sits up suddenly, arms wrapping around First Aid in a bear hug and burying his face against the small mech's neck. A staticky click escapes his vocalizer.

First Aid settles in, patiently waiting for Rampage to recover from the rush. The first time is always very intense-- especially a spark centered overload. And really, fumbling into overload by yourself didn't quite compare to having another set of hands.

"Whoa," he yelps, almost slipping down Rampage's chest as he moves, but the huge arms curling around him make sure he doesn't go anywhere.

He had to admit, being completely enveloped like this didn't do much to calm the pulsing of his spark. The warmth against his neck had him heating, his fans spinning a bit faster to keep up. First Aid curls his arms around Rampage's shoulders, feeling very small against him.

"You okay?"

"Mmph." Rampage is just going to curl up around First Aid for awhile. Until he stops feeling quite so overwhelmed and emotional. He growls internally at himself for being ridiculous but... He hasn't had a lot of experience with pleasure in his life, and to have it come directly from the part of himself he so often loathes?

Well, if First Aid had his empathic ability, he'd be practically drowning in gratitude.

As it is, he just mumbles against First Aid's neck. "M'fine." A pause. "...Thanks."

First Aid knows he probably should be more concerned about his health. The thought that the mech's sharp teeth were so close to his neck or that Rampage could kill him with a twitch of his arms doesn't really cross his mind though.

With closed chest plating the pleasure coursing through his field would be muted to most, but Rampage was different and still bared to him. His own spark aches deeper with sympathy the longer the mech holds him.

"It's okay to enjoy pleasure."

He couldn't see or move much, blinded and restrained by the bulk of Rampage's frame, but he touches what he can, petting over the panels slow and softly.

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