robothell | i cant think of a funny title

i cant think of a funny title

Who: pipes and......you????
What: bang the minibot. cuddle him. slowly press a pie into his face. whatever
When: during the fuckening. the bangarang. the dingle dangle dongle
Where: AROUND
Warnings: hahahahahahhahahahahah

a.

Pipes knows the deal. He knows what the pollen has done to him and that he doesn't need to go to the medibay. He wants to handle this like an adult, but he has a big problem.

He is a really, really shitty adult.

He'll be around, wherever anyone wants to run into him. Adorable, horny minibots go where they are needed.

b.

Well, this was awkward. Despite his... efforts, Pipes had been unable to get rid of The Feeling.

Honestly, it was getting to the point where he was outright annoyed with the situation - he just wanted to carry on as normal after going a few rounds with both himself and perhaps some other people.

It didn't work. Nothing had worked. Pipes comes to a stop from his near constant driving and transforms, stumbling into a wall. He's quiet for a moment, then punches it in frustration.

...

"Ow! Frag it! Ow!"

c. closed to mayday

Okay, you know what? Fuck it. Pipes wants to get laid with someone he cares about. More than average, at least.

He'd made a beeline for Mayday's ship-house and called up the lift shaft a few times.

Heh. Shaft.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, uh. It's nothing! Really. Just. High temp because I was driving around a lot. I had a lot of energy! Too much! Is having too much energy a thing? I feel like I need to benchpress something! Maybe a rock. I don't know."

He's not gonna move, still of the opinion that letting Spinister do his thing is better than trying to run and getting shot.

Well, where the patient lies, the scanner tells the truth. Spinister finishes scanning long before Pipes finishes talking and then scowls as he reads through the results.

"Mostly," he says at last, face brightening and tone turning cheerful. "It just looks like you should have a lot of sex with someone!"

And after a moment, he adds, "That's probably safer than bench pressing a rock. Unless you've got a spotter."

Pipes has no mouth. He still manages to make a sound like he'd be spraying his drink out his mouth.

If he had a drink. Or a mouth.

"I--!"

How does he even respond to this. The worst part is, he knows Spinister is right. He just didn't expect to hear it outright. Which is a bit silly, seeing as this guy is apparently a medic.

"...Well. I suppose that is what I need to do. Unless you're willing to spot me."

Spin watches Pipes make that bizarre mouthless drink spitting noise with all the serenity of a mech who doesn't entire get what was happening but has been through this many times.

"What, for the rock lifting or the sex?" Spin blinks. "I mean, I can do both, no problem."

He looks around.

"I don't see any boulders I could lift..."

Oh, god, he sounds so obvious and desperate.

"Are you sure that that's the only way? I mean. No offence. I just. It seems a little drastic."

Pipes. You have already banged someone.

"Well! There's lots of healthy ways to get rid of excessive sexual energy," Spinister agrees. Also, he didn't realize that Pipes had actually been serious about this sex thing being a bit of an epidemic. "The Decepticon guidebook for interpersonal interactions lists 'masturbation with or without the aid of sex toys, push ups, sparring, driving or flying or boating depending on your alt mode, target practice, political discussions...'"

Pipes, you should probably stop him. This particular section of the guidebook was a good eighty pages.

A hand goes to his visor. Part of him is wondering why this is happening, the other half is trying to visualise Megatron saying 'sex toys'. Neither is appealing.

"--Is it specifically sexual energy?" he asks, cutting in. He can tell it is, because it's pretty hard to mistake arousal for anything else, but man. Pipes really doesn't want to have to deal with it. He's never really been interested in any of this before, and loathes that it's started now.

"Can't I just go back to driving really fast? You could..." he can't tell what Spinister's altmode is from looking, so he's makes a vague 'eeh' sound. "with me! It's okay according to that guide book thing!"

"It is! It's just the results are really dependant on the person and kinda vary wildly from mech to mech and situation to situation. The guidebook is really more of a suggestions book in my humble medical opinion." Cue vague hand wiggling gesture to convey the lack of scientific study that went into the 'guide' book.

"Like, if driving around really fast hasn't gotten rid of it before, I think you might wanna having a go at it with your hands." Spinister rubs his chin thoughtfully. "And if that doesn't work out then maybe get a friend. And if that doesn't work out, then you gotta either talk with a counselor and get your repressed sexual issues sorted out or it's something wrong with some transmitter in your brain module."

Frank medical advice is totally helpful right now, right?

Pipes isn't sure if he prefers it hard or not.

Blunt.

If he prefers it blunt or not.

"I, ah. Have tried. With my hands and with a friend. I'm fairly certain I don't have anything repressed." Pipes taps his chin himself. "Sexual, at least."

"If it were a transmitter problem or a virus or something, it'd have shown up in the medical scanner."

Stumped, Spinister sits himself down crossed legged in front of Pipes and flips out a flashlight before waving him over. Might as well get comfortable and more minibot-height: this was going to take a while.

"Nanites maybe? Something's gotta be disguised well enough that the standard readouts aren't giving me anything."

"...Would anything really be specifically designed to induce this? I mean... I may have run into some people with the same symptoms. I definitely did."

He shifts again, considering sitting down. Could he do that? No, probably shouldn't.

"Did you even have this issue? I want to know how you either avoided it or. Fixed it."

Y'know, if he can stay coherent long enough to have an actual conversation with Spinister.

"I've seen people recode repair nanites to do all sorts of unpleasant stuff. Wiped out a whole base of people in less than a cycle one time. It was slow release, so it didn't do anything until everyone got it and it was too late then."

Pinching Pipe's chin between his index finger and thumb, he leans closer, shining the flashlight into his optics to check for any irregularities. Rogue nanites sometimes strayed and floated about where they shouldn't be.

"I'm pretty sure I haven't avoided whatever's happened if it's happened to a lot of people you've met. We aren't exactly a big population." Finding nothing, he huffs and lets go of the minibot's chin. "Honestly, this kind of reminds me of a story one of my squaddies told me once about how they all went onto this planet and it was full of weird energy plant stuff that shedded pollen that made everyone suuuuper horny--"

...

Spinister tugs Pipes closer and shines the light down the vents on his chest.

It's a bit of a surprise to be tugged, but Pipes isn't gonna stop it. He's caught up in enjoying the contact more than he should as well as wanting Spinister to figure out what's going on.

"See anything?" he asks in a stilted tone.

"Oh, plenty! You ought to get your vents clean out more often."

Flipping a swab out of his wrist compartment, Spinister takes a quick swab of the inside of the vent before clicking it into a container and putting it away.

"It looks like pollen of some sort alright, but I'm not a xenobiologist and just because it's on you, doesn't mean it's doing the thing."

There's a beat. Spinister sits there awkwardly for a moment.

"Also, do you want me to, uh, do the thing?"

"Yeah, I. Forget sometimes. Here, I mean, usually I can actually take care of myself. I got a rock caught in there once!"

Not something he should be proud of. Pipes shifts awkwardly, too.

"Uh. I mean. I wouldn't mind it but I'm pretty sure that's because of the pollen. If you don't want to I'm not gonna force you."

"Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffffftttt."

This tiny Autobot forcing Spinister to do anything.

No, wait. Spin was regularly bossed around by Krok and Krok could make him do literally anything. Whoops.

"Your temp is hiking is why I was asking."

Pipes is now being tugged onto Spinister's expansive lap.

"I-- oh!" Pipes squeaks. He was just covering bases and letting Spinister know he wouldn't hold it personally if the medic wanted to walk away!

Is what he wanted to say. His temp spikes even more, now.

"Uh."

Spin is big. Like, he's into it, but Spin is so big.

Fortunately, Spinister was very used to smaller partners- and he had unusually well suited hands for the task too.

Pipe's stunned response earns him a playful heli engine rumble. The aforementioned hands gently position the smaller mech, moving him so that his back was pressed up against the massive curve of Spin's chest, knees on teal thighs.

"This okay?" he asks, running his fingers over Pipe's sides.

Seeing as Pipes is still an inexperienced turbonerd, he pretty much just enjoys everything.

"Oof-- yes. You know what you're doing!"

"Heh! A little bit!"

The Autobot was so tiny! Fulcrum was tall at least and Krok was built like a tiny tank, but this fellow was both noodly and tiny.

Spinister marvels at that, cupping a hand over Pipe's chest, free hand sliding down one of the fellow's thighs, thumb strumming over the curve of his tiny aft.

"Oh!" he squeaks. Goodness, having his ass patted is oddly nice. He wouldn't have expected that to feel good but HERE WE ARE.

"The size... isn't gonna be an issue, right?"

"Deeeepends on what you wanna do."

Which is Spin's cue to slip two fingers between Pipe's thighs, stroking the plating there, free hand keeping his partner firmly propped up against his chest,

There's a sharp intake of breath at the stroking, and he arcs slightly into it.

"I, uh." How do think straight??? "Don't know?"

Spinister starts up his engine, letting the low rumble transfer between his plating and Pipe's, fingers drawing delicate patterns over the seams of the Autobot's pelvic armor.

"We'll figure it out as we go then," he laughs, flattening Pipe's aft against his abdominal armor and letting his powerplant cycle up until the vibrations sent nearby rocks skipping around from the force of it. "You like this?"

"Y--" Gosh, Spinister is big. And Pipes is so small.

And horny.

"Yes!"

i cant think of a funny title

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