robothell | have some hot steaming garbage

have some hot steaming garbage

Who: Tarn and ???
Where: around
When: sex pollen time
What: Fuck this trash heap
Warnings: smut

[A- Outside the city]

He's restless. After weeks of managing to avoid most everyone, Tarn finds himself with a lot of pent up energy to let out. Leaving the base, and the prying eyes that come with it, far behind, he quickly finds himself just outside the city.

Still alone, but at least able to move around and get some frustration out, he paces an open field teeming with local wildlife and a strange flowering plant. Tarn might think it was beautiful if he was not being distracted by what could only be described as a full scale Transformation binge. He leaves deep gouges in the dirt as the rapid fire transformation disturbs the local flora. Spores from the flower drift through the air, getting caught in the cracks in his armor and recesses of his treads. The pollen seeps through the cracks in his mask, trapping itself against his face.

He sputters and coughs, brushing at his plating and trying to clear his vents. Unfortunately for him, it’s already too late.

Only minutes later, heat begins curling inside him. Tarn groans, trying to flush his system as he wanders in useless circles, dazed.

Something is very wrong with him. He needs to get out of this field.

Tarn's frame desperately tries to expel heat as he stumbles free from the patch of flowers, attempting to return to his much needed solitude at the Decepticon base. He can handle this himself.

[B-Dececpticon Base]

Heat engulfs Tarn as he ruts uselessly against his berth; having finally made it successfully to his habsuite. His interface array is blazing as lubricant leaks desperately from its seams.

With his processor spinning, he tries to control himself. This is ridiculous, and shameful, and he isn’t sure how to handle this himself.

a low moan escapes Tarn as he curls in on himself, fingers beginning to probe gently at his outrageously sensitive pelvic plating.

He just hopes that no one will be able to hear him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Distantly he hears a familiar irritated tone; barely discernible over the overheated hum of his systems

Pharma?

His attention instantly snaps to the door, optics wide.

"Don't come in here. I mean that; you will regret it." His voice is uncharacteristically rough and buzzes with static. Pharma can't see him like this. Any respect that the doctor might have for him will vanish. Certainly it would do irreparable damage to their already paper thin rapport.

Well, there you go, Pharma, head off and mind your own business now.

He doesn't. He pauses, placing a hand against the door and taking note of the static in Tarn's voice. Maybe Tarn is afflicted with whatever this is, too. If so, maybe Pharma can take the opportunity to study it -- figure out what this is. Pharma successfully convinces himself that's solely why he's curious and doesn't wander off.

"I wouldn't be a very good designated physician if I didn't inquire."

Sometime after Tarn had taken his attention from touching himself, his interface array had slid open, dripping a puddle of lubricant onto the berth between his thighs.

Even as he hears Pharma press the issue from the other side of the door, he cant help but slide two fingers into the needy, swollen lips of his valve, biting down another moan.

"Go away." He snaps, hoping to frighten the nosy medic away. Unfortunately there is just the slightest bit of panic in his voice that manages to seep into the command.

Something about Tarn's voice makes him take a quick in-vent, makes it harder to tell himself to walk away. His fingers curl slightly against the door;

"Tarn. Let me see."

It's not a physician's demand. It's a plea. Why the hell is he pleading to get inside? Because some part of him knows what he'll find in there? And then, maybe, what that might lead to.

He gets a small grip on himself, just enough to add, "I think I might know what's going on. You touched a strange plant, yes?"

Tarn remains stubbornly silent as he plunges his digits roughly into the silky heat of his valve. His calipers clench desperately at his thick fingers with each punishing thrust, trying to hold them in with each ebbing slide.

"I know what's happening, you fool." He bites out, static heavy in his voice. He can barely string thoughts together and forming sentences takes time and energy.

"Which is exactly why you should not be here. I can handle--ah--this."

The slick sound of Tarn's fingers fills the room. He bites down on his tongue when a whine catches in his throat. It's not enough; he knows that. But, the alternative is simply unacceptable.

"Then I suppose you're well aware you'll overheat if --"

He cuts off his thought at the faint sound of something when he presses his audial to the door. Heat flushes through his frame, mind drifting to imagine just what he might be doing in there. His voice drops slightly.

"As your physician, I think it'd behoove you to consider a professional opinion about this, no?"

Tarn growls lowly. It’s clear that Pharma is listening to him self service behind the privacy of his door. The doctor isn’t going to leave. Weather he’s listen to Tarn overload and fantasizing about what may be happening behind the door or watching it first hand…well he isn’t sure which is better. Who knows what obscene display he may be concocting in that twisted processor.

“Fine...Fine, you can come in. Let's just make this as brief as possible."

Good. That sounds good. It's for science. Pharma takes a deep breath and comes in and holy shit he wasn't expecting that Tarn would be that far gone. Every medical justification he was trying to come up with flies right out the damn window.

He's staring. He looks away with a cough.

"It -- it's hit you fairly hard, I see."

Thighs spread wide on the berth, giving Pharama the perfect view of his fingers burried in his dripping valve, Tarn doesn't have the presnce of mind to be embarrassed. His optics are dim and cloudy as he continues his punishing pace.

"What were you expecting? Isn't this what you've been wanting to see?" His voice is low and breathy as a thumb strokes his anterior node

"Have a good look, Pharma, surely you haven't suddenly become demure." He punctuates the taunt by burying another thick finger in the slick mesh with a soft squelch. If he's forced to be in this situation you'd better believe he'll find a way to be in control.

He snorts quietly at the accusations, looking back - his gaze flickers downwards slightly as Tarn fits another finger in there with seemingly no effort, good lord, then makes eye contact. "No, you're just shameless. I shouldn't be surprised."

Finally, he starts to approach, trying to put on a medical professional face. "For such a severe reaction - you've been holding this back for quite some time, haven't you?"

Only a few hours...I've had my fill previously." Which is probably why he's able to fit so many fingers inside of himself with such ease. It isn't as if Helex's spike didn't stretch him plenty. Or First Aid's fist for that matter.

His optics follow Pharma as he approaches, and he spreads his thighs even further to allow the doctor a good look. The squelching noises of his finger's working his valve are almost as obscene as the velvety groan of pleasure that leaves Tarn's vocalizer.

"And what is your professional opinion of how to remedy such a relentless reaction?"

Pharma tsks quietly, putting his hands on his hips and trying not to stare. Seeing Tarn have such little control over himself is pretty exhilarating, but he sees an opportunity here.

"Oh really? How greedy of you, then."

Unfortunately, what Tarn says next takes his theory completely out the window, and he's hesitant to admit it. "Have you tried a cool oil bath?"

"A cool oil bath? Really?" Curling his fingers, Tarn works a particularly sensitive node at the front of his valve. The slick puddle beneath his aft grows exponentially.

"Where, pray tell, am I to find one of those? We just barely have a shower." Tarn bites his lip beneath his mask, smothering a whine. "Besides... How is a cool oil bath going to help me overload?"

He somehow manages to keep his condescending tone, despite burning with charge.

"Oh relax, you drama queen. I was being facetious."

Although the increasingly glazed look in his eyes is telling another story. His spark hums louder and louder in his ears at each passing moment, especially as Tarn continues shamelessly and manages to sound condescending.

"Well. I would suggest literally fragging yourself but apparently that isn't helping."

He adjusts to cross his legs just slightly while standing.

"unfortunately you're right. As much as I wish that I could handle this myself, it seems that I'm in need of some medical assistance."

Tarn pulls his fingers from his valve, bringing with them a thick splatter of lubricant. The gesture gives Pharma a good view of his stretched opening and charge swollen valve lips.

Well, there's no subtlety in that. Pharma has to visibly swallow before he can even begin to think of an answer.

"Oh - and you suppose I'd just lower myself to that? That's making quite an assumption."

Never mind that he's already halfway convinced.

"Oh no? Very well." Tarn's thumb rubs a gentle circle over his anterior node.

"And here I thought you would be jumping for the opportunity to finally have me under your control. To have me moaning and wanting beneath your touch..." His tone turns breathy as he gives the node a bit of a cruel flick. His hips shift in his own mess and his optics, although hazy with the effects of the pollen, shine cruelly as he dares Pharma to walk away from him.

Oh. Well, then. Pharma watches for a long moment like a deer in headlights. Finally, he sighs like he's just been asked to write a 10-page essay and he comes forward towards the bed, eyeing the copious amount of mess with a judgmental eye.

"Well, might as well help make sure you don't turn into a drooling idiot. Besides, you're going to hurt something going on like that."

He sounds just a twinge eager despite that.

Tarn inclines his head slightly, Staring down his own chassis as Pharma sidles up to the foot of the berth. His valve clenches eagerly on itself in anticipation for what Pharma might bring to the table.

"Of course doctor. Perhaps you can put those famous hands to good use, hm?

He reaches out to slide his fingertips down Tarn's chassis, tracing the edges of seams. "Is that a suggestion or a request?"

This is a very tantalizing position to be in, having Tarn there, ready and wanting - granted he knows full well it's the effect of whatever the hell is going on outside, an effect that's starting to waver his self-control as well, but that does nothing to stall his excitement.

"Either way, I concur."

Tarn makes a show of arching into Pharma's fingers as the slide down transformation seams. If he wants him to get on with it, he knows that he has to play into that massively inflated ego of his.

"Ah- merely a suggestion. I'll leave the decision up to you-- I know that you can be quite creative."

A smile curls on his face and he moves to lift up and lean a knee on the berth, curling his fingers lower and lower. He pauses just above Tarn's valve but eventually he slips two fingers down, capturing an exterior node gently between two fingers as a deliberate contrast to how Tarn was practically mauling himself.

"So trusting all of a sudden."

Tarn makes a show of arching under Pharma's touch. The fingers slowly trailing down his abdominal armor bring with them an all consuming blaze as he finds himself free falling into carnal bliss. When Pharma pauses just above his valve, Tarn gives him a glare of warning. He better not stop now.

He doesn't have to wait long until he feels the brush of fingers exactly where he wants them.

The comparatively gentle touch against his node has his vents hitching as he jerks. The touch is almost feather light in comparison to how he had touched himself and it leaves him nearly breathless, needing more.

But he wont beg. He'll never stoop to begging an Autobot for anything. Not even when his frame is as overheated as it is.

"Haah-- Come now, no need to treat me like a delicate petal. I would like to be able to actually feel it."

"Well, if you insist."

Pharma grinds his fingers against Tarn's valve, applying just a little more pressure with each pass. He pulls his hand away to get a better position on the berth, kneeling between Tarn's thighs before moving back in. His one hand continues rubbing, his thumb brushing over his spike housing. He dips the fingers of his other hand into Tarn's valve properly, exploring the extent of how stretched it is.

"How many have you had, hm?"

Tarn lets his head fall back onto the berth with a dull thud as Pharma really sets to work. His hips buck up ever so slightly into the doctor's touch as he grinds his fingers over his wet, charge swollen valve opening.

His node aches with need as it's passed over for his Spike housing. Tarn is about to growl something snappish when his mouth opens into a quiet gasp as Pharma slowly plunges his digits into his slick heat.

"Not that it's any of your businesses," Tarn manages to bite out, covering a slight quiver in his voice, "But you will be the fourth."

have some hot steaming garbage

Re: B is for Boly shit what a backtag

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