robothell | Phase Sixer On Doorstep Delivery

Entry tags:

Phase Sixer On Doorstep Delivery

Who: Sixshot and Tarn!
Where: The Decepticon, uh, 'base'.
When: Some time after Tarn gets fixed up after his fight with Megatron.
What: Sixshot finds some high grade.
Warnings: Weird Decepticon fluff? Also, NSFW as heck.

Sixshot arrives with a box tucked under one arm and about an inch of dust and grime on his frame. It's been a surprisingly productive past few days of digging around the city and finding random, necessary knickknacks. He usually leaves them near the makeshift base's front door before wandering off again.

Today, however, he's found something that seemed a bit more fitting to be delivered in person. As he reaches the warped door frame, however, Sixshot slows to a stop. The hallway leading into the building looks like it'd just been cleaned. He looks down at his decidedly rather filthy feet.

Hmm.

Leaning somewhat awkwardly into the building, careful not to touch the door frame, he peers into the unlit hall.

"Tarn?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sex with the Commander of the DJD is bound to be many things, but vanilla is not one of them.

Tarn stares down at Sixshot, having caught himself against the slick wall when the Sixer went down to his knees. With a small huffed laugh, he settles a thigh over his partner's shoulder, interface panel front and center.

"Hm... did you like that? I can continue if you wish." Smug is the only word that could be used to describe Tarn's voice as he regards the Phase Sixer at his feet.

Tilting his head back, Sixshot peers up at Tarn with wide optics, too stunned to say much, much less protest the leg that was slung over his shoulder.

"I'm. I."

Eventually, the Sixer's peculiarly youthful face twists into what could only be a pout. He reaches up and pointedly cups his hands over Tarn's aft.

"That's unfair," he declares casually, the words spoken as he brushes his lips over dark pelvic plating. His tongue finds the seams of Tarn's interface array, teeth scraping over the thin plating. Oh, and he gives that purple aft a good, vengeful squeeze too.

A strangled groan escapes Tarn before he can stop it, the back of his head hitting the walk with a dull clang. Sixshot's mouth is hot as he presses into it, hands clutching desperately at his helm begging for more.

He can't hold back any longer as his panel clicks open and slides back. His valve has already begun to lubricate, a slow bead sliding from the opening. The biolights surrounding it pulse brightly with charge as his spike extends ridge by ridge to stand between them.

"I never said it was fair." He pants, smirk tugging at one side of his scarred lips.

"Could've warned me," Sixshot points out, although the words weren't particularly accusatory. He's somewhat distracted by the sight of Tarn's plates unfolding anyways, a small smile curling the side of his mouth when the head of his partner's spike bumps against his lower lip.

He casts one last look up at Tarn's face before pressing a kiss against the tip and trailing more down to the base plate. Then he pushes the mech slightly higher, up against the wall and ducks his head between grey thighs, pushing his tongue past the rim of the valve in a deep and lazy lick.

All thoughts of logic and commentary leave Tarn's mind as Sixshot licks deeply into his valve, upper lip stroking against his exterior node. Optics dimming, he bends over the Phase Sixer's helm slightly. Tarn's hands clutch at his lover's wings to anchor himself as he presses his his valve more firmly against the soft mouth.

Eventually he is able to pull himself together enough to form coherent words.

"Primus, Sixshot..." His voice is rough and low with lust as it caresses more gently against the Sixer's spark.

The words and the pleasure rippling over his spark make Sixshot shudder, wings twitching in Tarn's grip, optics offtine and a soft moan pressed against the lip of the valve. He was more prepared for it this time and with the other mech dialing it down, the sensations were manageable, if still very, very intense.

Was this normal? Was his spark supposed to feel like it was fluttering and shuddering to some strange, strut-deep beat?

Cycling a dense sigh of warm air through his vents, Sixshot digs his fingers into Tarn's hips and pushes in deeper, chasing the taste of lube and the sharp bite of charged nodes. The long, slow licks are interspersed with him wrapping his lips around that glowing external node, suckling and rolling it over his tongue.

Tarn squirms in Sixshot's grip, heaving pants of hot air when special attention is paid to that sensitive little node. He can't remember the last time his valve has been serviced in such a manner. So thoroughly consumed by the eager mouth beneath him.

Pleasure sears through him as the Sixer's tongue strokes against sensors deep inside his valve. It clenches greedily, trying to pull him further in.

"Frag..." Tarn growls, leg involuntarily kicking out , "Primus, Please..."

The squirming and kicking has Sixshot panting a low laugh against Tarn's valve, readjusting his grip on the mech. He can feel the way the slick mesh clenches around his tongue and mmm...

Drawing back slightly, he frees up one of his hands and slips it between Tarn's legs, sliding two wet fingers into the tight heat there, knuckle deep in one smooth push. His now unoccupied mouth finds the node again and the Sixer licks and sucks as he sets up a hard and harsh little rhythm of thrusts.

Tarn moans clutching tighter to the Phase Sixer as thick fingers shove their way into his valve; the rough pace that is quickly set only intensifies his pleasure. He can feel the lubricant slick mesh of his valve stretching to accommodate, sensors and calipers burning after so many years of disuse.

He wants more. Pawing ineffectively at Sixshot’s back, his mouth opens in a silent plea as he grinds his hips harder into the dueling sensations of a hot mouth and skilled fingers. He can feel his face begin to heat a bit under his mask, embarrassed that he is this charged up from a few simple touches. He quickly decides that the Sixer isn’t nearly turned on enough himself.

Tarn slowly drags his tongue up the edge of one of sixshot’s wings before his hands expertly find and tease hidden flight sensors.

“Sixshot…” The phase sixer’s name is purred in the most silkily low voice, “Another…”

Sixshot was plenty turned on. He was just... very much more focused on Tarn's pleasure than the pings from his own equipment at the moment. His partner licking along the tip of a wing and teasing the flight sensors does a tidy job of bringing it to the forefront of his mind however.

Moaning a low, muffled noise of pleasure, the Sixer arches into the touches, teeth finding the edge of Tarn's pelvic plating. Pleasure jolts down into his gut, grounding itself behind his interface panel and he gasps a soft curse when it snaps open, the warm cleanser almost achingly cold against his equipment.

Tarn's voice has him gasping again, fingers clenching over purple hip plates.

Another?

Tilting his helm back, Sixshot runs his tongue over Tarn's spike, licking from base to the vent at the tip, moaning in quiet pleasure. He draws his fingers back, only to slide three back in, spreading the valve's slick walls apart inch by inch.

Tarn smirks against Sixshot's wing before sliding the tip between his lips and sucking gently. He groans in pleasure as a third finger slides into his valve, the stretch aching and perfect and exactly what he needs. His mind is blank and empty of his previous hellishly morose thoughts.

Tarn sobs a pant of hot air, grinding his hips down on that hand. The hot tongue on his spike only fuels his pleasure as he gasps, oral fluid coating his scared lips as they brush gently against Sixshot's plating.

There are no words, just the wet noise of his valve greedily sucking the Phase Sixer's finger's further in. It quivers in anticipation for what is to come.

Curling his fingers against the clenching walls, Sixshot rocks them in and out of Tarn with slow, deep rolls of his wrist. He slips the head of Tarn's cord into his mouth, optics dimming the moment the blunt tip presses against his intake. Tarn's mouth against his wing has him moaning yet again, this time muffled and drawn out.

There was something he was forgetting, though. Something important.

He pulls back suddenly and stops.

"I'm modded."

Tarn jerks as Sixshot pulls away, cold air suddenly against his chord. He is far to distracted by the feeling of thick fingers pumping into his valve to actually catch what his partner had to say. It takes a minute for his words to actually sink in. modded?

"You're modded?" Tarn pants trying to twist to catch a glimpse of the Phase Sixer's equipment.

"It's- uhm. The cord uh. Forms a knot when I... yeah." If Sixshot could have, he might have been blushing right about then. "I got before being rebuilt as a warrior elite."

He doesn't remember why he got it. A lot of his life pre-Warrior Elite upgrade was very fuzzy. Something related to a job? Sex modification demo?

It would explain why his spike was a bright neon blue instead of something that matched his color scheme. If Tarn does manage to get a glimpse of it, he'll see the beginnings of the knot forming near the base.

"If you want, I can just stick to mouth and fingers?" the Sixer offers.

Tarn stares down at Sixshot for a moment, dumfounded before a devilish grin splits his lips.

"Oh, please, Sixshot. Do you really think I can't handle it?" he chuckles lowly, reaching down to tilt his chin up to better look the Phase Sixer in the optics.

"I want everything you have to offer. And I will be very disappointed if I find you are holding back."

"I don't- it's just a very specific mod and I'm not sure if people are into it or not and-" Sixshot's nervous babbling dies down when Tarn tilts his face up.

Right. That does not look like the expression of a mech who was turned off.

Sixshot cycles his optics in a slow blink before moving, slipping his fingers out of Tarn's port and sliding both hands under his partner's thighs.

"I'll hold back a little," he says, tone quietly teasing as he rises, spreading Tarn's legs apart. "You know how medics are when their hard work gets undone."

Tarn lets out a breathless laugh as Sixshot hoists him further up the wall. His hands are warm against his thighs as they are parted wider to accommodate the Phase Sixer's hips. His valve aches and drips in anticipation.

the DJD Commander clutches his partners shoulders to steady himself.

"Come, come, it will be fine. I like a bit of pain with my pleasure, after all. Keeps things interesting."

"I take no responsibility for popped joints then," Sixshot declares, pressing a kiss and a playful bite to Tarn's lips.

He presses closer then, thick spike sliding against the the DJD commander's slick valve and he finds himself making a low noise of pleasure. Moving his hands up to grip under Tarn's knees, the Sixer pushes his partner into the wall as he angles his hips until the head of his length catches the rim of the port- and starts slowly pushing in.

As Sixshot's spike begins sliding into his port, Tarn lets out a low moan. Primus, it's so much thicker than just a few fingers and he can feel himself stretching even further to accommodate it.

Tarn rests his face against his partner's neck, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure as the chord slides even deeper, stroking against his deepest nodes.

His hands clench on the Phase Sixer's shoulder armor, warping it slightly.

Grazing his teeth along the side of Tarn's helm, Sixshot groans at the wet, tight heat around him, the weight of the other's cord pressed against his abdominal plating, the clench of fingers around his shoulders. He braces his legs against the floor and hilts himself in a single smooth thrust, warm air hissing out of his vents the moment his hips meets Tarn's.

"Primus," he mutters, voice strained, shuddering at the clench of slick walls around his cord. It takes him a moment to gather himself before he could move, rocking into his partner with slow, shallow movements.

Tarn bites down on Sixshot's throat to keep himself from crying out as the Phase Sixer buries his chord inside him. He can feel the small knot at it's base stretching just inside the rim of his port.

He finds himself unable to contain his whine of pleasure when his partner begins to shallowly thrust inside him. It's so much and not enough at the same time and it is driving Tarn insane. He pulls away to lick up the rivulet of energon spilling from the bite mark, panting hot air against his plating.

Sixshot arches into the sting of teeth against his neck cabling, a sharp gasp hissing past his lips. He hooks Tarn's knees over his elbows, freeing his hands up and they roam over his partner's frame, gliding over seams and welding scars.

One slips down between their bodies, black fingers wrapping around Tarn's spike. He begins to pump it in time with each roll of his hips, faster and faster as he picks up his pace, squeezing the base of the length every time he works the knot back into the other mech's clenching body.

Tarn bucks into Sixshot's skilled touches, frame hissing as he begins to overheat.

"F-Frag, Sixshot, please!" He pants against his partner's plating, purple fingers scrambling for something to anchor himself with. The thickness of the knot stretches him ever wider and Tarn desperately pushes harder against it. His port aches and clenches as his exterior node swells with excess charge, overload slowly beginning to creep up on him.

It was getting harder and harder to force the swell of the knot past the rim of Tarn's valve- so Sixshot stops trying to, favoring shorter strokes, moaning softly. Raking his fingers up wet purple and grey thighs, he tips his head and licks Tarn's throat, tasting cleanser and the warmth of energon.

The Sixer shoves the hand around Tarn's spike lower, palm grinding down against the charged anterior node, feeling an electric pop against his plating. His lips find his partner's again in a hungry, hard kiss and he pushes his hips up, engorged knot stretching the other Decepticon to his very limits.

Tarn screams into Sixshot's mouth, squirming as the thick knot is forced into his valve. He can't remember ever feeling so full in his entire life, and it is absolutely divine.

As the Phase Sixer continues to move, Tarn moans. His voice warbles eerily off key, dragging his partner's spark into a crushing embrace. mouth gaping against the other Decepticon's lips, He pants hot air while his hands slide to Sixshot's back to pull him closer.

"Harder, please Primus, harder," The breathy deep rasp of Tarn's voice is beginning to sound desperate as he tries to push back against the Sixer's spike in a needy grinding motion.

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I really thought I did this tag last night :|

It is okay! I have been getting behind a bit too. o_o

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