[ open ] looks like a cinnamon roll but is actually a sinnamon roll

[lifepersists]

WHO: First Aid and open
WHERE: Medibay mainly, but around too. Ping me if you want a starter outside it?
WHEN: Sex pollen time
WHAT: copious amount of boning. In shower, bed, or whatever flavor. Pretty much just go for an area and I'll roll with it.
WARNINGS: Smut.


The medibay was one of the first places to see the outbreak for obvious reasons; it was just normal to automatically see a doctor if anything felt unusual. That just happened to mean that First Aid kept getting repeatedly reinfected with the spores, even if he avoided going outside. After a bit, he just sort of gives up trying to prevent that and instead works more on battling the symptoms.

He's found regular rinsing and charge dampeners work best to control the surge of heat coursing through his frame enough he could work, but it was never enough to actually fix the issue. The other catch was that cleanser was to be used sparingly, and for the record, wearing charge dampeners over his equipment for long periods of time was highly uncomfortable.

Trading off between the rinse and the dampeners was always awkward. First Aid's brief stints in the wash was usually accompanied by soft, miserable, overcharged groaning, followed by the fumbling of trying to get the dampener in place again once he was out.

The pent up charge had an almost eerily hyperactive affect on the doctor; with his charge suppressed and redirected to other parts of him frame he was left jittery and unfocused. His attention isn't any better than it would be with the charge, so First Aid was getting a lot of... half tasks done.

Comments

[lifepersists]

The washracks in the clinic weren't technically public, so First Aid didn't exactly expect company save for maybe the staff and most of them knew by now the miserable, heated groans and huffing from First Aid weren't anything life threatening at the moment.

He has one forearm pressed against the wall to bear his weight, his head hanging loosely as his other hand presses between the swollen folds of his valve. It's tender and sensitive from wearing the dampener, almost too much to touch, but cleaning away the excess lubricant and remains of past interfaces was too important before trying to return to work.

First Aid had already overloaded once, right after taking off the dampener, the cool cleanser too much against his sensors after hours of pent up charge. His exterior node was still stiff, his whole frame tense to the point of pain. If it hadn't been for work, it was almost not worth it.

The voice startles him, but he can't bring himself to move too much yet to turn and just lifts his head so his over bright visor could see over his shoulder. He rakes his gaze over Wing's frame, a tight ball forming in the pit of his own fuel tank at the hungry look the stranger was giving him. He couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed.

Hello mysterious beautiful thick jet.

"You're not... You're not supposed to be back here."

[knightlite]

"I'm sorry," Wing says tightly, taking a step back. His voice is strangled with static and his optics are wide, drawn helplessly down to First Aid's fingers between his legs, biting his lip and shuddering helplessly as his fans roar to life all at once, flight engine rumbling loud in the tiled space. He shuts them down deliberately and presses a hand briefly over his mouth, wresting control of himself with an effort.

"Should I--I can leave, if you'd rather. I just wanted..." To help, he nearly says, but his voice dies in his throat as his optics stray lower again and he bites his lip, shivering all over.

[lifepersists]

I'm sorry, Wing, but where you going somewhere?

First Aid at least has the mind to take his hand away from his valve, though as he pulls his hand free a sticky strand drips down from the rim in an arc to his fingers until it thins enough to break and trail down his leg. He aches, more for the denial of pleasure than the trysts he's had, but generally he's been managing well enough until other needy frames come around.

Then the heat is like an inferno again, pooling in his array, making coolant steam off his plating. He turns towards the jet, baring more of a hip now and the subtle hint of extended spike, and makes a motion to come over.

"Didn't mean leave." First Aid sounds exasperated. "Come over before you blow a circuit."

[knightlite]

"Oh," Wing says, sounding a little stunned before he's making his way across the room, careful not to slip. He stops in front of First Aid and reaches out, touching soft hands to his plating, stroking down his sides before he drops to his knees to nuzzle at the center of First Aid's breastplate.

"Please," he manages, trying not to sound too needy, a shudder wracking through his frame. One hand slides up, taking First Aid's and drawing it to his mouth to close gently on slick fingers, making a raw, needy sound as he sucks them clean. His free hand closes on First Aid's spike to stroke, slow and firm and steady. His mouth pulls back once First Aid's fingers are clean, pressing hungry kisses down First Aid's belly to vent scorching air against his spike. His mouth brushes briefly before he speaks against First Aid's hip. "Please let me--I want to. Please say yes."

[lifepersists]

Medic hands are typically sensitive. They're designed to be able to determine ailments by touch and First Aid's hands are no exception. The slide of soft lips over the sensors in his hands and the gentle sucking sends charge straight to his already throbbing interface array.

As Wing's lips release his hand and travels down his stomach, his plating starts to ratttle with small shivers.

"Oh, god, please yes."

He doesn't have the strength in him to say no. He doesn't even know who in their right mind would, let alone if they were as charged up as him. First Aid at least has enough presence of mind to fumble with the valve for the shower and shut it off, but not to ask for Wing's name as his hands move to the finials and rub slow, firm circles over the tips of each one.

A flesh glob of lubricant was already sliding down his leg, making a sticky path towards his knee. His spike was twitching at the warm venting against it, fluid already beading at the tip.

[knightlite]

Wing moans, hungry and sweet, and leans in to swallow First Aid whole. His lips tighten softly as they touch his baseplate, plating already slick, optics burning as they lock on First Aid's face. His hands stroke up First Aid's thighs, not restraining him, and one slips in between his legs to touch light fingertips against his valve before they press a little harder, circling his anterior node. He shudders as he presses harder, fingers slipping up and in as his thumb replaces them, stretching First Aid gently and dimming his optics as he works his mouth against sensitive plating, moving in a slow, steady rhythm between First Aid's legs.