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[NSFW] Boiled Crab
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."
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."
no subject
He can't- he can't- hecan'thecan't-
The glowing wet heat of First Aid's valve slowly engulfing his cord makes the Sixer heave before he could stop himself. He's pretty sure his grip on Rampage's knees weren't just denting anymore, but it's a bleary thought that's lost under the sensations and Primus-!
Rampage draws back and the hard drag of ridges against his calipers and the clench of First Aid's body around him makes every neural relay in his body light up like a star going nova. Sixshot screams, his frame engulfed by snapping strings of electricity, his optics streaking light as he throws his head back, torso frame curving into an almost impossible arc off of the ground.