Catch-All For Cyclonus!

[tsunclonus]

WHO: Cyclonus and WHOEVER
WHERE: Around the city
WHEN: Sex pollen time
WHAT: Cyclonus disapproves of your new plant, Cybertron. Open to both Smut and non-smut if anyone wants to talk to a sexually frustrated Cyclonus
WARNINGS: Smut. Probably some angry Smut.


[A - Beginning]

Cyclonus carefully brushes metallic plants off of the forum console and is rewarded by multiple silver blooms opening up and engulfing him in a cloud of spores.

Backing away quickly, his fans gust a heavy burst of air, trying to purge his systems of the contaminant before it can clog his filters. Like he needs any more dust to wash from his body.

In tune with his body, Cyclonus notices the effects immediately, the early spark of heat that denotes arousal. He grits his teeth. There is nothing arousing about this situation. In fact, he rarely finds anything arousing. And yet the warmth is spreading beneath his plating.

That plant. Putting more distance between himself and the offending flowers, Cyclonus glowers at them and turns to leave, planning to ignore the growing heat until whatever it is passes through his systems.

How hard could it be?


[B - Later]

Cyclonus banks sharply, narrowly avoiding colliding with the side of a building, then drops into a partially controlled fall, transforming at the last moment for a clumsy landing, stirring up clouds of rust and dust.

He leans heavily against a nearby wall, thoughts clouded with crude fantasies caused by the burning flame of arousal those infernal plants lit within him.

He shouldn't have waited. He shouldn't have trusted it to simply fade. And now he can't even concentrate well enough to fly. He craves contact so fiercely, he aches for it.

Legs weak, he forces himself upright and tries to head in the direction of the clinic.

Comments

[knightlite]

Wing freezes when Cyclonus stops his hand, worry running suddenly cold through his lines.

"Cyclonus?" he says, sounding uncertain now. He resists the urge to twist, to take Cyclonus' hand in his, leaving it limp in Cyclonus' grip for now. He doesn't look warm or lazy at all anymore. "Is everything all right?"

[tsunclonus]

The concern Wing is radiating just makes things even more surreal. Cyclonus is used to either hostility or cool respect or simple disregard - except for one small, persistent little bot. A stranger seeming to actually be caring and affectionate towards him is bizarre to say the least.

He glances away from Wing's earnest gaze, frowning slightly. He intends to tell him off for taking intimate liberties, but instead he ends up saying, "You don't even know me."

[knightlite]

Wing makes a soft sound, curling in comfortably and pillowing his head on one arm to watch Cyclonus' face.

"I know your name," he points out softly, before his mouth curves a little. "I know that you're handsome. I know that you're strong and disciplined and considerate and perceptive. I know that you have to be strong-armed a bit into having a good time and that you'd probably do yourself a favor to relax more. I know that if we weren't both charged half-blind that wrestling match might have gone very differently, and I'd be extremely interested to try it under less complicated circumstances sometime." He cycles his vents in a shivery sigh and sits up, his elbow only wobbling slightly.

"I know that's enough for me--more than enough--to be interested in being kind to you. But I'm not interested in invading your privacy. ...if you'd rather I leave you be, I will."

[tsunclonus]

Well, color Cyclonus startled again. That's an uncomfortably accurate description of him. More than he'd like to admit. It's not as invasive as Nightbeat's cold reading, but it still has him scowling at the floor.

But be doesn't tell Wing to leave. He's not sure if it's the ache in his belly that wants to keep the other mech longer, or if perhaps he's just a bit... Lonely.

If you'd told him when he met Tailgate that he'd one day sorely miss the other's company he'd have assumed them either max or a liar. Possibly both.

He doesn't want to talk about such things, though, so he ceases a distraction in the form of a familiar sword on the floor.

"Are you with the Circle of Light?"

[system_dp]

Miria is trying to stay still under Cyclonus' glare, but can't help but fidget. Even the back kibble that let's her transform into a jet twitches, as her mind wanders.

Honestly it's just the fact that Cyclonus speaks that she's able to focus.

"And one is not allowed to observe the Cybertronian's methods?"

[knightlite]

It's Wing's turn to look startled, his optics widening.

"I--yes. I am." He settles again and his gaze sharpens with interest. "Not many people would know what our order was if told directly, let alone recognize a Great Sword by looking at one. How...?"

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus relaxes, settling against the floor. Talking about swords is much easier than talking about feelings.

"I fought alongside your order, briefly," he answers. "I had a Great Sword of my own, but regrettably it was not with me when I was brought here."

[knightlite]

Wing eases back down also, his plating still pinging as it cools, lubricant and transfluid smeared over his belly and thighs. He looks entirely at ease and he smiles again helplessly as he looks at Cyclonus.

"You must be something special, to have been allowed to wield one." His optics sharpen in warm amusement and he has to swallow a laugh. "I bet Dai Atlas liked you. He doesn't relax as often as he should either."

[tsunclonus]

"Hardly," Cyclonus says, not entirely comfortable at being called special. "I simply received a gift that needed to be passed on."

Because it seemed he was able to correct some of Primus's mistakes, even if Star Sabre had escaped him. "It's a fine blade, though."

There's a prickle at the back of his mind when Wing talks about Dai Atlas, but he's finding Wing's body increasingly distracting again, and he sits up, watching the other with a heating gaze.

He'll realize later that Wing was using present tense instead of past.

[knightlite]

"Mmmm, modest, too," Wing says, stretching luxuriously and easing again, his optics flicking to Cyclonus' face and the faint hint of a smirk curling his lips. "Better and better."

The expression clears into a soft, welcoming smile as he reaches out again, his fingertips barely brushing Cyclonus'. "You're feeling it again?" he asks, nudging a little closer but not quite invading Cyclonus' personal space again. "Would you like to...?"

[tsunclonus]

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Cyclonus says. The way Wing's body stretches out over the floor, however...

This time when he reaches for Wing's hand, it's to draw it toward one of his thighs. "I suppose it's best to see if I can burn this off under controlled circumstances."

Wing seems a less offensive partner than some of those he knows share this world. Primus-forbid he had encountered someone like Tarn while in such a state.

[knightlite]

"It seems like flattery will get me exactly where I'd like to go," Wing says, his optics lighting teasingly as he slides his fingertips, then his palm over Cyclonus' thigh. He heaves himself up and pushes those thighs apart gently, nudging Cyclonus onto his back and leaning down to lick delicately at the slick fluid staining the juncture of Cyclonus' hip. He makes a hungry, needy little noise and tilts his head to close his mouth against Cyclonus' port, moaning against Cyclonus as he tastes himself, his thighs pressing together as he squirms slightly.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus's only retort is a small 'hmph' before he settles back, thighs parting wide. There's none of the wild urgency of earlier and he lets himself relax, moaning softly as Wing's lips press against his slick mesh. He gives a lazy roll of his hips, letting one hand come to rest on Wing's helm, stroking encouragingly.

[knightlite]

Wing shivers and hums, then seems to just relax under Cyclonus' touch, sinking in between his legs and settling himself comfortably. His mouth works against sensitive mesh, careful against tender sensors as he licks and sucks, nuzzling at the base of Cyclonus' cord and tracing the tip of his tongue against his anterior node. He makes warm, lazy sounds in his throat, hungry but content, sounding like bes's perfectly happy staying right here for as long as Cyclonus will let him.

His mouth is wet as he pulls away a little, venting hard and looking up at Cyclonus with meltingly hot optics as he licks up the length of Cyclonus' spike, sucking briefly at the tip and then nuzzling his way down the side. It grazes his lips, his cheek, and he sucks hard at the space between Cyclonus' equipment covers before he buries his face between Cyclonus' legs agains groaning softly and letting a shudder rattle down his back.

ignores ur prompts

[kidstoday]

Normally Galvatron had no time for traitors, but the changes occurring to Cybertron made him nostalgic for those his age. It reminded him of his youth, when Cybertron was still young and he still considered Megatronus a master as well as mentor. The planet's hotspots still ignited brightly, and in the Darklands it was not uncommon to feel amorous after watching and caring for a surge of new life.

Still, Cyclonus had left him after all they had endured together and eons of faithful servitude. Galvatron does not forgive, especially after a burn like that. His lieutenant had left him in the Dead Universe to rot, his body painfully and slowly re-making itself. He had made mistakes, he would admit, but he had been lead astray by the Heart of Darkness. His mind had not been his own. For that, Galvatron was bitter.

He knew the sound of Cyclonus's engines almost as well as his own. He'd held the mech's crumbling body in his hands in the Dead Universe and had enjoyed his close presence before that. Galvatron lifts his head to the dark purple jet streaking across the sky and scowls, debating just for one moment, before he jumps and the rockets in his feet take care of the rest, propelling him into air fast enough that he smacks into Cyclonus's altmode.

:3c

[tsunclonus]

Sorry, Galvatron. Cyclonus's first loyalty was always to Cybertron and you almost made him betray that. As far as he's concerned, he's not the traitor here.

As far as he's concerned, Galvatron shouldn't be able to fly either, not that rocket boots are really flying. More like aggressively punching gravity into submission. Either way, however, he's taken completely by surprise when something smacks hard and heavy into him. As if he wasn't distracted enough already. He was doing better after his encounter with Wing, but there was still a low heat blazing in him.

Unable to adjust fast enough to the impact, the purple jet promptly careens into the side of a building, punching through the wall. Transforming as he skids across the floor, he lets out a pained grunt as his back hits a support column, finally bringing him to a halt.

Well. That was unexpected. Venting dust out of his systems, he stares a bit dazedly at the hole he just entered through.

[kidstoday]

Nothing like colliding with a mech full force and sending him slamming through a building to get the energon pumping through his lines. As Cyclonus gathers himself inside the building, Galvatron floats his way up over to the hole, pressing one hand against the crumbling wall before setting one foot inside. With the rockets off, he has to pull his way in, but his expression is smug as he looks at his former bodyguard's optics.

"You seem distracted, Cyclonus. Your reaction time was better than this. Have you been spending too much time around these soft mechs?"

His own armor is barely even scratched, but he brushes at it anyway, pollen falling away from his vents as he flares them. He's not ashamed to be affected; if that was the planet's whim, then there was little he could do to protest, annoying or not.

[tsunclonus]

"Galvatron," Cyclonus snarls as his former leader steps through the hole he'd just created with Cyclonus's body.

Heat blazes through him like lava filling his fuel lines. Part of it's anger. Part of it is the pollen. But part of it is the attraction cultivated in him over millions of years that a few years apart can't have hoped to completely crush. It all mixes together in a potent burn, along with the sting of Galvatron's insult - how many times would others get the drop on him while this pollen sullied his systems?

His civility falls away quickly as he falls back into what he'd been twisted into by millions of years in the Dead Universe: a violent, savage thing barely restrained by a mask of calm conduct. This was not a good day for his sanity.

In a snap, he shifts from sprawling over the ground to a crouch, coiled like a spring. A split second later he launches himself at Galvatron, with a roar that's half engine and his claws bared.

[tsunclonus]

The fidgeting is distracting. Cyclonus has the urge to pin her against something to force her to stop moving, but that sounds like a terrible idea.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he snaps, "Then it would no longer be alone."

[tsunclonus]

Wing seems perfectly at home between Cyclonus's thighs. He can empathize, giving your partner pleasure in such a way is extremely enjoyable, and if his body weren't feeling so needy then Cyclonus would likely be pleasuring Wing in turn right now.

Instead he lounges against the ground, stroking fingers over the angles of Wing's helm, splayed wide for him. He moans his pleasure for Wing to hear, continuing to rock gently against his lips. He hisses and arches at the hard suck before relaxing again, venting heavily, enjoying the prickle of charge across his array.

[knightlite]

Wing makes a sweet, hungry little sound in his throat as Cyclonus pets at his helm, shivering all over and leaning into the touches, an encouraging rumble vibrating low in his chassis. He pulls back after a while, looking dazed, his optics flushed bright with charge as he licks up Cyclonus' length and swallows him whole. His mouth works steadily, slicking delicate plating to make the slide easier until he can press his lips to Cyclonus' baseplate and swallow thickly around him, the back of his intake working against the sensor-dense tip.

One hand strays down, between Cyclonus' legs to touch softly at wet mesh, petting at external sensors before his fingertips press to Cyclonus' anterior node to stroke in short, firm little pushes, his free arm barely restraining Cyclonus at all anymore. Wing is aching, unreleased charge starting to build higher and higher, coiled low in his array, but he doesn't pull back or let up. It feels good, his mouth full and his fingers slick and Cyclonus touching him gently and making noise for him, a particularly fervent groan raking a shudder through him like its his own spike being sucked.

[kidstoday]

Galvatron catches Cyclonus smoothly, a move practiced over millions of years of familiarity, sliding back towards the hole they had made in the wall. Even as the claws bite into his arms he pushes back, red light flaring from his optics and engine roaring, and as his turret scrapes the corner of the crumbling building he twists, twirling them both into another wall away from the plunge below.

"I can feel your need," he hisses. How he could, sharp against his field. "You should have come to me."

Galvatron scoffs at the thought of Cyclonus seeking relief with the youth. They wouldn't understand how to satisfy a warrior's desire. Their frames were old, touched by the Dead Universe, and yet-- he doesn't feel that taint in Cyclonus. It was possibly the first time he noticed the loss of connection with him.

That just makes him pissed off.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus face twists into a snarl, teeth bared like a wild thing as Galvatron slams him into a wall, making his frame flare with heat. He's not even sure there's a difference between his anger and arousal any more. Pain and pleasure have long blended at the edges for him.

Especially with the raw ancient power of Galvatron so close.

"I'm not yours anymore!" he snaps, even as the strong hands on his body, the dominance of Galvatron's field so close screams at him to submit.

With a hiss of rage, he lunges against Galvatron's hold and tries to fasten his teeth on his ex-leader's lower lip.

[system_dp]

If Cyclonus did that he would find himself getting hit, Miria may be fidgeting right now but she is most certainly not an easy target. Even if this whole situation has made her easy in other ways.

"Only if I get involved," she replies, just as sharply, keeping eye contact with him as she does so.

While still fidgeting.

[kidstoday]

They've had their squabbles before. The Ark was not necessarily a peaceful ship-- too many old warriors, too proud, and one scheming hideous traitor of a mech. Galvatron enjoyed this side of Cyclonus in the same way he enjoyed war; anger heated his playing, made it ripple and flare, and the spill of blood was much like the spill of transfluid.

He snarls, reeling back slightly as his former second's fangs sink into the softer metal mesh of his lip. His mouth floods with energon, sliding down his thoat and over his lip, and pulling back makes the stab of pain worse.

He stops himself, revs his engine, and then presses forward instead, crushing his bloodied lips against Cyclonus's own, biting back just as hard. Galvatron shifts, his fingers leaving dents in the mech's shoulders as he shoves closer, trying to smother his body and field with his own.

Mine!