[NSFW] Boiled Crab

[crabcake]

WHO: Rampage, Sixshot, First Aid
WHERE: Somewhere away from people.
WHEN: Sex pollen!
WHAT: Sex pollen!
WARNINGS: Sex pollen! (Also Beast mode banging)


Rampage doesn't think to blame the strange flowers he casually steps on and over for the heat growing in his belly. He pays little attention to any of the flora progressively infecting the ruins.

He thinks at First that it's just a result of his trust with First Aid, a consequence of first activating long-dormant systems.

He enjoys it at first, playing through that night in his head and experimenting with what First Aid showed him. He doesn't touch his spark at first, preferring to have nothing to do with his mutant core. Holed up in a gap beneath a fallen building, he slides his hands between his thighs and plays until he spills fluids in the dust.

But it's not like the night with First Aid. The charge doesn't stay gone, the heat inside him only rises. His fumbling changes from enjoyment to desperation, body aching with a need that just won't go away. Not even when he lets his chest part and he strokes rough and clumsy fingers over his spark, and the mix of pleasure and pain brings him over the edge into yet another overload with no relief.

He tries to escape the itch by shifting into his beast form, but the sensation only moves, prickling across his belly, itching under his plating.

With a groan, he huddles in his little lair, frustrated and confused, and makes a distress call.

To Sixshot and First Aid, "There's something wrong with me."

Comments

[phase6kindofbot]

Sixshot thinks to blame the flowers immediately. Unfortunately, that particular span of logical thinking was also almost immediately consumed by the sudden, crashing tsunami of lust. There were downsides to having such a sensitive nose.

He almost misses Rampage's call, so consumed was he with the looping thoughts and just moving that he can barely decipher the words. The sudden realization that it was another person talking to him makes Sixshot stumble with the sudden, sharp spike of arousal that lances through him.

"Where are you?"

[crabcake]

Rampage shoots some co-ordinates to Sixshot, though honestly with Sixshot's nose he'll probably be able to smell Rampage from miles away between the mess he's made and the sheer amount of arousal he's stewing in at the moment.

"The heat won't stop," he whines, grinding his underside against the ground in a failed attempt to relieve the itch inside of him.

[phase6kindofbot]

All Rampage gets in answer is a gutteral growl of vague agreement- and then silence. The person you are trying to reach only has the ability to concentrate on one thing at a time now, sorry buddy.

Fortunately, Sixshot arrives quickly. Like, literally, half a minute. The spot he'd been standing in before he'd launched off little more than a smoking crater. He arrives in much the same way, landing hard enough to shake a few nearby buildings into dust, lifting his lupine head up through the dust.

And then his world narrows down to the dense scent of arousal in the and air and the seething heat roiling under his plating. He zeroes in Rampage's hiding spot and starts striding towards it.

[crabcake]

The sudden - and very loud - landing startles Rampage, making him huddle further back into his 'little' hidey-hole. He's running more on instinct than sense at the moment, many of his higher brain functions lost to the haze of heat.

His insides light up like an inferno as a wash of pure arousal from Sixshot crashes over his spark, and he gives a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl. He didn't call Sixshot to make things worse, and he raises his massive claws in confused defense as the Decepticon approaches.

[phase6kindofbot]

Sixshot strides towards Rampage at a steady, even and unstoppable clip, head low, maws parted and optics feverishly bright.

The end of his snout catches the roof of Rampage's hideout and-

Well.

There it goes.

There's a distant THUMP of it crashing a few hundred meters away, leaving the crab perfectly exposed.

[crabcake]

Finding himself suddenly unearthed, Rampage huddles close to the ground, the friction of his underside against the rough metal twisting a warning growl into a moan. Has the taste of Sixshot's arousal on his spark and the scent of him on his chemoreceptors and the heat in his systems and it's driving him mad.

The frustration makes him aggressive, and the snaps out a claw a Sixshot's snout, never mind the futility of trying to pinch an indestructible mech.

[phase6kindofbot]

The claws snapping at him only deters the Phase Sixer for all of a second before he clamps his jaws down on one of the pincers and starts backing up, pulling his friend out of the hole.

Get out of the hole, Rampage.

[crabcake]

Rampage tries digging his legs into the ground, but it doesn't help one bit against Sixshot's strength and he leaves long furrows scratched into the ground as he's dragged out.

He snaps at Sixshot with the other claw, aiming for his eye, as being manhandled leaves him more flustered than ever.

"What are you doing?!" he manages to growl.

[phase6kindofbot]

Rearing back to dodge the pincer, Sixshot grumbles the most displeased of noises and brings his claws down on the offending appendage. That's really about the most amount of answering Rampage was about to get out of him because the Sixer wasn't any sorts of coherent right now.

Mostly he just knows that Rampage is aroused and he's aroused and the fucking needs to happen right about immediately.

[crabcake]

Rampage makes an angry noise as Sixshot pins down his claws. He doesn't know what's going on right now - usually he's the one attacking Sixshot - and he's far too horny too think. Which is ironic, because if he thought a little more, he might realize that this is the solution to his problems right here.

Instead he squirms, trying to tug away from Sixshot, and the six-changer should probably just pin him to the ground, because this crab is far too troublesome.

[phase6kindofbot]

Well, pinning him down was kind of the plan. There were eight legs and two pincers to work around, but he's going to pin the bastard down if it was the death of him.

After a lot of pushing and shoving and several liberal uses of his teeth, Sixshot finally, FINALLY manages to maneuver Rampage into the right position. Of course, now the crab-former has a giant robot wolf on top of him, radiating heat and steam from the exertion and arousal, two heavy claws pinning down his pincers.

[crabcake]

Rampage is suitably flustered by the time Sixshot manages to wrestle his way on top of him, and by the time he's pinned he feels like his brain might just start boiling away in his head. He gives a long whine and gives up, his insides itching and aching, and he wishes someone would just- would just-

...Pin him down and fuck him? Oh. Oh. Bulbous green eyes peer up at the wolf looming over him, and the plating lining his lower abdomen ripples, slick fluid seeping out from between the softer plates.

"Oh."

[phase6kindofbot]

That was Sixshot's cue to make a wolf equivalent of 'you're a moron', which kind of just sounds like a grumpy huff. Still, he leans down and gruffly licks the flat plate between Rampage's alt mode eyes with something like affection, his plating parting with a click.

This is basically the point where Rampage gets to feel the planet's hugest cock sliding up against his underbelly.

[lifepersists]

First Aid was recharging -- or attempting to -- when Rampage makes his distress call. It jolts him out of his dreams, and for a moment he's disoriented with a sense of panic, half falling off his slab as he struggles to quickly get on his feet. It's difficult to gather himself, charge ravaging his frame, and he stumbles around half blind as he quickly makes a grab for a clock, comparing it against the time of the message.

Slag!

Rampage was pretty much indestructible from what First Aid had seen, so what could possibly cause so much distress? He quickly grabs his bag, stuffs a few supplies into it, and then shoulders out of his room to the medibay in a rush. First Aid ignores most other events going on, already running late, and he's got most of the bag packed with equipment and supplies when he realizes he doesn't have a location.

He curses, but it's no matter. The communications in the medibay have traces for these occasions. It's just an extra step though, and by the time First Aid has coordinates and is on his way, sirens screaming, way too much time had passed for his liking. He comes skidding to a halt when he arrives at the scene, transforming back to his root mode, and he hauls the bag over his shoulder as he pushes deeper in.

"Rampage!" he calls, and he finally catches sight of bright red plating.

At first, he's not really sure what he's seeing. Sixshot is braced over the big, alien form of Rampage's beast mode, but the sight is so bizarre that for a few moments First Aid just stands there trying to decipher what he was looking at. Then the smell of lubricant and ozone hits him, and he tilts his head one way he can-- his grip on his bag and slack and it drops from his hands with a thump.

"Oh." First Aid presses his hands to his mask.

[crabcake]

Something pierces through the haze of warm contentment engulfing Rampage. It's a familiar something and it takes his afterglow-fogged mind a moment to figure out just where he's felt that before.

He jolts with recognition and the movement drags a low groan from him. Sixshot's cord is still buried deep inside him, filling him to the brim with pleasant pressure.

But he's got other things to thing about, and cheerfully greets, "First Aid!"

It's basically his two favorite people on the planet in one place! Both of whom he has had sex with now. The heat in his belly churns pleasantly as he thinks about sex with First Aid. And the sex he just had with Sixshot. And how amazing sex with both of them would probably be.

His port tightens slightly around Sixshot at the thought.

[phase6kindofbot]

For the first time since the start of the pollen epidemic, Sixshot feels like he can finally think. A lot of the accumulated charge had been burned off by... an ungodly amount of overloads and it was like a blanket of fog had evaporated from his mind.

Still heaving from the aftermath of their exertions, Sixshot takes a long moment to marvel at the mental clarity. It won't last long, he knows, he can still smell the pollen, the thick heavy scent lodged into his olfactory systems. But it was a relief and-

Rampage jolts underneath him, shaking the Sixer from his quiet wonder. The name his friend calls out inspires a bit more alarm.

The last time he'd seen First Aid, it was on prom night.

Whipping his head around, Sixshot freezes on the spot and stares, wide eyed and wings standing on end. It was like a pit had opened up in his nonexistent fuel tank and everything was draining out and being replaced by depleted uranium.

Suddenly panicking, he pulls away and transforms, the mass shift breaking his tie with Rampage. The resulting waterfall of fluids would have been fascinating on any other occasion, but Sixshot's entire world had narrowed down to the little red and white medic standing a few dozen meters away.

He lands on his aft, hands splayed out behind him and legs jacked up to cover his interface array.

"First Aid. I."

This was the first time First Aid was seeing him in his root mode, wasn't it? How awkward.

[lifepersists]

First Aid couldn't think. He was too overwhelmed by what he was seeing and the crash of emotions that came with it. He'd missed Sixshot terribly since they had last spoken, but there was still an underlying bitterness over a number of things since that night. He was hurt by the distance and avoidance and part of him had wondered if that meant that their friendship was over, and that had burned into self hatred, then back to hatred towards Tarn.

The rapid change from Sixshot's familiar wolf mode to the unfamiliar face of his mech mode only complicated the storm of emotions he was feeling, if just because it made Tarn's taunt about his lack of witnessing it echo loudly in his audio. He averts his optics, heat from humiliation bubbling up in him to join the burn of charge directed through his system.

He'd almost preferred he never saw it.

It didn't matter that he had been knot deep in Rampage; he had sought relief and comfort in his friend before the pollen had ever ravaged his systems. The waterfall of fluids spilling from the mech's gaping port was an appealing sight even through his lack of focus, but his spark felt like it was shrunk in on itself and his field and armor was clenched tight against his frame.

Slowly, he lowers shaking hands and picks up his bag again.

"Oh, I'm... glad you're okay, Rampage."

That was a silver lining at least. He had been so worried about him before he got there, but as soon as he arrived he'd forgotten for a moment. Nothing to worry about, just the pollen. Sixshot looked like he had things covered here. His frame was screaming at him for relief and there was relief right there but he didn't entirely feel... welcome in the situation.


It felt... rude, not to acknowledge the six changer though. He forces himself to look, but his expression was hesitant. This mech in front of him was unfamiliar.

"Thank you for helping, Sixshot."

[crabcake]

Rampage makes possibly the most disgruntled noise of all time as Sixshot suddenly pulls out of and away from him, the pressure of fluids inside his valve disappearing with a gush, leaving his port achingly empty and his back disappointingly cold without a warm chest pressing against it.

"What was that for?!" he snaps. Turning around, he promptly smacks Sixshot in the head with the flat of a large claw.

The warm contentment quickly washes away in a wave of Sixshot's odd awkward panic and First Aid's strange emotional pain. Ugh, happy time ruined.

Snubbing Sixshot, Rampage scuttles towards First Aid, hoping for some quality head rubs. Because rubbing Rampage's head will definitely make First Aid feel better. For sure.

[phase6kindofbot]

"First Aid-" CLONK. "I am going to throw you off a cliff, Rampage, I swear I will."

Clutching indignantly at his helm, he enviously watches the red shelled bastard trundle off towards First Aid. He can smell the arousal coming off of the medic, the scent so dense in his olfactory sensors now that overrode nearly everything else. It hits him in a wave and it sends his temp spiking again, the heat lancing urgent spikes of lust through his spark, deep codes pinging him over and over.

First Aid was looking at him like he's a stranger though and the hurt cuts through everything else.

It feels like the world was collapsing in suddenly, the air was too dense, his armor was too tight. Ratchet's advice slips from his mind and into the maelstrom of emotions like nothing more than ash and for all his power, the Sixer now finds himself lost and panicking.

He'll take running himself into the ground a million times over if it means he never has to see that look again.

"I'm- I'm sorry." Sixshot shoves his cord back in behind his panel with a wince before staggering to his feet. "I should. I should go."

[lifepersists]

First Aid was so caught up in feeling hurt and horny at the same time he forgot exactly how angry he is with Sixshot as well. He hated that the six changer had been keeping secrets about the nature of his relationship with Tarn and he let him feel-- well that didn't matter now, did it? He'd left him to feel horrible.

He doesn't take his optics off him even as Rampage shoves his massive crab face into him. He at least lifts his hands automatically, fingers scritching into the soft segments of carapace right around the giant mech's maw. He doesn't need to concentrate to find the seams; his hands were trained to find soft sections of metal without seeing them.

"Where are you going now? Running away?"

Anger was one of First Aid's worst vices. Generally, he wasn't murderous or violent, and for the most part he bottled his anger up inside until it bursts explosively. The fallout was never pretty.

"You can at least tell me to frag off to my face instead of ignoring me like a giant coward! I haven't seen you since--" He has to stop to let out an incoherent snarl of frustration, fingers curling into fists against Rampage's armor, his visor burning bright as his temperature spikes.

[crabcake]

Rampage has a lot of mixed emotions right now. His friends are distressed, and his first reaction to other people's distress is to find it absolutely hilarious. Unfortunately he actually kind of likes these people, so he realizes that their pain is kind of... not so funny. And on top of that, he can feel arousal curling inside him again, First Aid's skilled head rubs not helping that in the slightest.

Giving a huff, he decides to fall back on snark. "Yes, Sixshot, leaving so soon? I didn't realize you were one to fuck and run."

He's helping.

[phase6kindofbot]

That tone of voice was like a leash being wrenched around his throat and it stops Sixshot dead in his tracks. He struggles with himself for a long moment, self loathing bubbling its way to the surface despite the incredibly unwelcome pings from his interface array.

"Shut. Up." He's not sure if he's growling that at First Aid, Rampage or his own libido. The Sixer whips around, optics blazing so bright they left streaks of light in the air. "Shut up!"

"To hell with the both of you!" Sixshot hisses, jabbing an accusing finger at them. "I thought it was just camaraderie you wanted but I don't actually have a Primus damned clue what any of you want from me- I'm not- I can't-"

And just like that, Sixshot's uncharacteristic burst of anger dissipates, leaving him overheated and shaking, hands covering his face and sick with guilt.

[lifepersists]

First Aid can feel the heat coming off Rampage and his own frame was responding to it, arousal fuzzing through his field, but with the damper firmly in place it redirects the charge away from his interface array. He sort of wished he wasn't wearing it; he'd give anything to have his head too fogged with lust to really register the ache in his chest.

His hands were too shaky to keep up the rubbing -- sorry Rampage -- but he presses closer to one of the huge segmented legs at Sixshot's flare of anger, flattening his face against it. It's more shocking than frightening, but he still seeks out a shield.

"Want from you? This isn't some kind of business transaction." His voice was quieter now, more level despite the crackle of static as he speaks. "You either feel something or you don't."

He lifts the bag higher, pressing it to his chest like armor as he looks back at Sixshot.

"I thought you were my friend. I thought it was worth having Tarn come about screaming in my face. Is the thought an Autobot might have feelings for you so upsetting to you? Is that why you've been avoiding me? I was waiting for you. You used to come by all the time."

This wasn't fair for Rampage to be caught in the middle of this. It didn't feel fair to Sixshot to shun him to extend warmth to the crab mech instead. First Aid just felt stuck, frustrated, unsure what to do besides hug his bag close. The heat roiling off the crab mech's frame draws First Aid's attention after a few moments, and the tense coil he had himself in starts to unravel.

"You're burning up again. How much exposure to the flowers have you had?"

[crabcake]

First Aid is pressing close to him and that's pretty nice even without the head rubs. Maybe a bit too nice. There's a growing pressure in his belly that makes him shift restlessly.

Which doesn't stop him from letting out a burst of laughter when Sixshot snaps at him. "Oh, but I've already been there, friend!"

He isn't actually particularly bothered by getting caught up in other people's relationship drama, though he is a bit baffled by why Sixshot is dragging him into things. He thought it was pretty clear that he enjoyed bothering Sixshot. It wasn't that complicated.

"I wouldn't mind another overload right now," he mutters under his breath, before he's startled by First Aid turning attention back to him.

"Flowers?" he says in momentary confusion. Someone was too busy masturbating to keep in the loop. Then things click into place. "Is that what's causing this?"

Seriously? Flowers?

[phase6kindofbot]

"I've been avoiding everyone. It's a thing people do after their drunken friends shout about their cock in in a roomful of people." Sixshot drags his hands down his face in exasperation before letting them drop to hang loosely by his sides.

"... And... I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me after that," he admits quietly after a moment, fans spinning up as his temp hikes. He hadn't been entirely sure how to broach the subject of Tarn's friendship with him to First Aid. Tarn bringing up them having sex to First Aid's face was so very out of the left field that he didn't even know how to begin reacting.

The wolf-former stands there quietly for a moment, watching First Aid worry over Rampage and wondering if all of this could have been avoided if he'd just... come by like he always had.

That doesn't really help with the guilt.

"There's a cluster not too far away from here. We've been re-exposed for a while now."