robothell | Phase Sixer On Doorstep Delivery

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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

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.

It was like his spark had become a tuning fork and Tarn had just whacked it against the side of a tabletop. Sixshot feels his entire body light up like an over-charged flash bulb as he surges against his partner's frame.

The world was static and pleasure nothingness for a brief second, just on the knife's edge of overload. He finds himself drawing back with the metallic taste of Tarn's paint on the edge of his teeth.

And then the Sixer leans back in to kiss and nip at at vulnerable neck cables, slamming his hips up harder, forcing the knot deeper, rhythm growing erratic. Strands of electricity snap over his armor the closer he gets.

Sensors and relays fire in confused pleasure as the knot is thrust deeper inside him, putting a fair bit of constant pressure on a particularly sensitive cluster of nodes lining the soft mesh of his valve. It tightens and flutters in response, trying to pull the thick spike impossibly deeper.

Tarn leans into Sixshot's mouth, tilting his head back slightly to give him better access . The DJD Commander feels his thighs begin quivering in the Sixer's grip as a bright bolt of electricity dances from Tarn's inner thigh to his partner's hand. Overload builds rapidly as he slams his valve harder on Sixshot's spike; it hurts in the most perfect way when he is stretched past this own threshold.

Climax hits Sixshot in a sudden, hammering jolt. His fingers leave deep imprints in Tarn's thigh plating as he wrenches his partner down into a final, wall warping, thrust and holds them there, power plant growling loud enough to rattle the whole room.

This time, Sixshot tastes energon on his tongue when he bites down, the fizz of electricity against his lips. He squeezes Tarn's cord with a wordless gasp as the knot swells into his final size and traps the hot gush of his transfluids behind it, pulsing heavily against valve walls.

Its hard to say what pushes him over the brink. Whether it is the harsh squeeze to his chord, the sharp bite to his throat, the frame crushing final thrust, or the burn of Sixshot's knot trapping the flood of transfluid inside of him.

Whichever it is, Tarn finds himself spiraling into one of the most intense overloads of his life. He howls in pleasure, red optics bleaching to white as his port clenches and ripples on the sixer's girth. His own chord jerks as it shoots a jet of transfluid to coat own stomach.

Tarn collapses forward onto his partner with a strangled wheeze, optics flickering off as he pants trying to cool his overheated frame.

Tarn's overload sends aftershocks pulsing through Sixshot between the fluttering clench of his valve and the snap-CRACK of charge being released. Ozone filled the Sixer's olfactory sensors, heady and heavy.

Shuddering violently, he licks at the cuts his teeth had left in Tarn's neck, stroking his fingers over the purple mech's cord, thumbing the vent at the tip through the sticky fluids.

"Mmm," Sixshot rumbles, catching the DJD commander as he collapsed, armor plates unfolding to let heat escape with a hiss of steam. He turns his head slightly to press languid kisses along Tarn's treads, optics darkening at the sensation of fluid sloshing around his cord.

Tarn's body heaves as he pants, armor ticking and pinging as metal begins to cool and treads rustle as shiver rips through him. He's not sure if he could stand even if he wasn't still stuck to his partner. Instead, he clutches tightly to the Phase Sixer's shoulders in an attempt to ground himself.

Sixshot's gentle touches bring him out of his daze, just slightly. He attempts to speak but just spits static as his processor tries to catch up. After a moment a resets his vocalizer with a soft click. Tarn turns his face into Sixshot's neck, resting the cracked crest of his mask against his shoulder.

"Well you didn't hold back, that's for certain." He huffs a laugh, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm impressed."

"If Spinister comes after me, I'm still telling him it was your idea," Sixshot murmurs as he nibbles a lazy path over Tarn's shoulder. He slowly lowers them, sliding his hands under the other mech's aft to support him as the Sixer sinks down onto his knees.

Pale lips eventually find the side of Tarn's head and the nibbles melt into wordless nuzzling for a while. At least up until Sixshot's newfound sense of worry gets the better of him.

"Seriously though, I didn't pop any welds, did I?"

To be honest, Tarn isn't sure. all he can feel is the tightness in his valve, and the vague sloshing of transfluid trapped inside of him. Everything else is pleasantly numb, lost in a post overload haze.

Tarn relaxes onto Sixshot's lap as they change positions, jostling the hard spike inside of him, sending a jolting aftershock of pleasure through him. He only moans softly in response.

"Mmm...I don't think so..." although he does have a lovely hand shaped dent on his inner thigh. "How long until we...ah, separate?" the DJD Commander isn't in any rush he decides as small shocks of residual charge zap in his hip joints. Tarn strokes the flat of the sixer's wings soothingly in response to the gentle kisses and nuzzles.

"Five," Sixshot mutters, muffled against Tarn's wet plating, wings trembling under the touches. His own hand presses flat against purple chest armor and draws down, fingers sliding over cracked biolights and gliding lightly over the weld marks in damaged abdominal plates.

"Minutes, I mean." The little pops of residual charge between their frames makes the six-former hum pleasantly, spike twitching within the confines of Tarn's valve. "Roundabout."

Between the cleansers and the overworking fans, the heat in his frame was quickly beginning to dissipate, leaving behind a comfortable warmth instead.

Phase Sixer On Doorstep Delivery

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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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