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.

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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."

There is a small, self-righteous glimmer of judgement in his eyes as he works back over to the node, curling his fingers to rub it between the firm pressure of two knuckles.

"Fourth? After three, you're still not sated?" He actually sounds clinically intrigued by that, his medical opinion overriding his smugness over the situation for once, which makes the increasingly-bold way he slips yet another finger into Tarn's valve almost laughable in terms of contrast.

"Ah--!" Tarn bites off a cry of pleasure as Pharma rubs his charge-swollen nub beneath his knuckles. His hips jerk as he tries to push harder into the stimulation.

His valve clenches, swallowing the Autobot's fingers eagerly in it's wet heat

"The effects fade, but only immediately after overload. When they return I'm more charged up than before." Tarn squirms a bit before bracing himself on his elbows to glare at the doctor fingering him.

"Is that all you've got? I must say I'm disappointed-- I had imagined that you might have a bit more enthusiasm in you."

He's trying very hard to not let on how desperate he is for an overload.

"Well, if you'd rather I step away -"

He starts to slip his fingers out of Tarn's valve teasingly despite continuing his other hand. He hums contemplatively, unaware his cooling fans have turned out in the midst of all this teasing and the hungry way Tarn's body is practically begging for him.

Despite the teasing, he can't possibly let Tarn down now, so he goes full-hog and shoves four fingers in, leaving only his thumb unaffected by the heat of Tarn's valve.

"Really an itch you can't scratch. That's unfortunate."

Tarn thrashes as Pharma spreads his valve wide with four fingers. His calipers clench and quiver against the digits as he tries to find his voice. The obscene squelch of lubricant slick mesh is all Tarn hears for a moment, outside of the whirring of his own cooling fans.

After a moment he realizes that his cooling fans are not the only ones that he hears.

"You had better not." the spread and pressure on his nodes is wonderful, but there's just not enough to bring Tarn to overload. He's getting desperate and charge clouds his judgement as he opens his mouth to beg. Perhaps if he sinks low enough to play on the doctor's ego he will get what he needs.

"Hh--please, Pharma... Please it's not enough." After what he's taken from his previous partners, a few shallow fingers just aren't going to cut it. He needs it deep.

Tarn's optics are hazy as he sinks completely under the control of the pollen, grinding his hips into Pharma's touch. For once the Autobot is getting control over Tarn.

Tarn's reduced to begging. And god, does that really get him going. But he pulls himself from the haze long enough to contemplate this, attempting to force his fingers in a deep as they can go.

"Well, I'm not entirely certain I can go much further, but -"

His body finishes the thought for him, his panel opening and spike housing retracting to let it pressurize.

"I'm sure we can work something out," he finishes with a small gasp.

Tarn looks down his chest as Pharma's spike panel clicks open. He wants to say something cheeky, but his mouth goes dry as the medic's chord pressurizes smoothly between his thighs. The pollen wreaks havoc on the DJD leader's mind, making it impossible to do anything but lock onto that length.

In the end all he can do is tilt his hips to give Pharma better access to his needy valve.

He can't say no to that sort of invitation. He can't even pretend that he can, with whatever this is hitting him full force now that he's let his guard slip.

He grits his teeth, adjusts for a better angle, and pushes forward with a small noise of surprise - he manages to slip most of his spike into Tarn in one go almost effortlessly, and he savors that feeling for just a moment, core temperature starting to skyrocket.

He only gets enough of a grip on himself to start actually thrusting, and from there, all bets are off.

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have some hot steaming garbage

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