robothell | 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.

Threaded | Flat

Cyclonus isn't the only one who has taken to the skies in some desperate hope to stave off certain urges. As there is a small-ish red and white space-jet that happens to notice the Cybertronian's clumsy flight path and decides to see what's up. She waits until he's transformed and started moving before making her own move.

So just a bit behind him? Miria is also transforming and landing, the earth made robot being no taller than ten feet now, as she notes what direction he's headed in.

"The medics are not going to be much help, Cybertronian."

Cyclonus nearly collides with Wing as he stumbles around a corner and Wing catches at his elbows, steadying him.

"Are you all right?" he asks, sounding startled, their bodies close and Wing's worried face very near Cyclonus'. "Are you injured?"

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.

B!

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