tsunclonus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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robothell2015-08-05 10:48 am
tsunclonus) wrote in robothell2015-08-05 10:48 am
Entry tags:
Catch-All For Cyclonus!
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.
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.
no subject
He wants to resist the command, just to show that he can. Just to show that he doesn't follow Galvatron's orders anymore. But the heat in his body is too much, the pressure of Galvatron's spike against him too familiar. Even as he digs his claws deeper into his ex-lord's metal his panel slides open, lubricant spilling down his thighs.
Rolling his hips, he grinds his slick mesh over Galvatron's thick cord, hissing with delight at the scrape of the studs.
"Satisfy me," he snarls, grasping for any scrap of control he can.
no subject
Hot energon, straight from the cabling of Cyclonus's throat, pours into Galvatron's mouth. He swallows the wound's offering, his engine revving as it slides thickly over the back of his tongue, his lips working at the punctures as he sucks.
The slide of a slick, willing valve over his shaft makes his cord throb, the plating rippling with the twitch, and a thick glob of transfluid beads at the tip.
"I'll make you scream," he hisses and shifts his hips, hands raking down Cyclonus's sides as he slides them down to grip the mech's thighs.
Galvatron rocks once, his spike sliding against the swollen mesh, each stud grinding hard as it slides over it. He rocks back roughly, adjusts his hips, and the tip catches on the rim just before it pops into the wet heat. He snarls at the squeeze around the tip, pausing a moment to savor it before he slams his hips all the way to the baseplate, hard enough the grind of metal sparks between them.
no subject
Gone now, and with a frustrated snarl he drags Galvatron up from his neck and into another violent kiss, tasting his own fluids on the warlord's tongue.
His port throbs against Galvatron's spike and he almost does scream as Galvatron slams into him. He refuses to give him that satisfaction, and what escapes him is a choked growl.
He aches with the sudden fullness, legs trembling from the clash of the spike's head against his terminal node, and he finds himself glad for his earlier encounter with Wing. It would have been considerably more uncomfortable to have gone straight from his several years' celibacy to this.
This is no time to wait until he adjusts, though. He has am itch and Galvatron has provided the means to scratch it. Bracing against the wall, he rocks his hips, urging Galvatron on.