[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?"

[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.