[Kaon's fingers squeezing the thick rubber of his tire has Damus' vents rattling in a soft gasp. He runs his fingers lovingly over the vents in Kaon's generator in turn. Damus lets his teeth graze sensitive mesh and cabling of Kaon's neck.]
You aren't wrong. I have gotten used to it, as I'm sure you will in time. This is the first time that you've truly seen me since you arrived.
[ The fingers in his generator makes Kaon squirm; it's a sensitive part and delicate equipment essential to his function, so the brush over the vents feels quite nice. ]
If they had released me sooner I would have been quite used to it by now.
[ There's no end of bitterness over how long he was kept in the VVH for what he views as a small crime. He tries not to let it spoil the mood, since those lips on his neck make him groan and tilt his head, his own hands roaming over and exploring Damus' frame again, reacquainting himself. ]
[Damus hums against Kaon's neck in agreement, tongue tracing delicate seams in his armor. He continues to play with the generator, casually tracing the outer edge as he free hand comes to cup Kaon's aft. Damus' hand is large enough that his fingers are able to stroke the heat of his interface panel.
Kaon's fingers brush a cluster of sensors beneath the hood of his new alt mode. Damus groans softly against the plating under his tongue, fingers tightening over Kaon's aft.]
[Kaon had missed Damus' touch. He'd last felt it under another name, but for years Tarn has been quite lax with whatever people wanted to call him; returning to his old birth name isn't quite as unusual as it might have been for others.
The hand squeezing over his aft gets his interface panel to snap open, his valve only mildly slick and his spike still recessed, but the warmth of the array can be felt clearly by a near palm.]
I told Deadlock I want to swallow your spike.
[He still does, and his hands drag down low over Damus' belly, searching for the large span of his own panel and then grinds his palm into it.]
Oh, did you? He purrs, smiling against Kaon's collar assembly. Damus can just picture Drift's face. His engine gives a low growl of lust.] I'm sure that can be arranged...
[Damus slides his fingers against the gathering slickness of Kaon's valve, finding his node easily. He rolls the rub gently between his fingers, eager to have Kaon writhing on his lap. He had missed this.
Kaon's hand dragging down his ventral plating has Damus pressing ever closer, the heat radiating from his panel climbing by the minute. Damus allows his panel to slide open, spike nosing out only slightly.]
He did ask what I would do when released. I was only honest.
[And he took no lack of pleasure from watching Drift squirm.
The hand at his valve makes the engine for his generator hum, rumbling in the center of his chassis as he leans his hips into it. It feels good, and the longer Damus' fingers stay at his node the more heat starts to spread through his hips.
He doesn't leave Damus neglected. The sound and feeling of the panel opening has his hand there in an instant, his thumb brushing over the tip of that shy spike as his other fingers dip lower, stroking down over his valve.]
[Optics dim as Kaon leans his hips into Damus' touch. He continues to rub circles, pleased when it earns a small trickle of lubricant from between the soft lips of his valve.
His cooling fans click on with a roar when Kaon's thumbs over the fat head of his spike. Damus lets his hips twitch under Kaon's weight as he allows a breathy moan to escape.]
Why would I ever want to do that? After all, you've always been so good at giving it...
[Kaon's frame warms to the touch, his fans picking up and then cutting off a few times until internal temperature is high enough that they stay consistently on. While his one hand is busy down below, he stretches the other around Damus' shoulder and strokes his neck, his hips rolling gently into the palm.]
I guess my bid to have your voice repaired would be out of the question now.
[He hates feeling pressed down under the Autobots' thumb, but at least he's distracted enough to not let it get to him too much. As Damus' spike noses out the tip of one of his fingers catches the piercing, and he rolls it through the head, pausing whenever he feels resistance.]
[Damus bites his lip as Kaon slides the piercing through the head of his spike, He can't control his hips from rolling beneath Kaon's weight. His vents click softly as they force scorching heat from his frame. Damus' spike slowly extends to stand between them.]
I'm not sure that they are capable of that. Nickel did her best to repair it... I'm not sure much else can be done.
[He focuses on the task at hand-- on the wet valve beneath his hand, greedily rolling into his palm. He's careful as he allows just one thick finger to slip in, relishing as hungry calipers ripple against the digit.]
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You aren't wrong. I have gotten used to it, as I'm sure you will in time. This is the first time that you've truly seen me since you arrived.
no subject
If they had released me sooner I would have been quite used to it by now.
[ There's no end of bitterness over how long he was kept in the VVH for what he views as a small crime. He tries not to let it spoil the mood, since those lips on his neck make him groan and tilt his head, his own hands roaming over and exploring Damus' frame again, reacquainting himself. ]
We'll have time for talking later.
no subject
Kaon's fingers brush a cluster of sensors beneath the hood of his new alt mode. Damus groans softly against the plating under his tongue, fingers tightening over Kaon's aft.]
no subject
The hand squeezing over his aft gets his interface panel to snap open, his valve only mildly slick and his spike still recessed, but the warmth of the array can be felt clearly by a near palm.]
I told Deadlock I want to swallow your spike.
[He still does, and his hands drag down low over Damus' belly, searching for the large span of his own panel and then grinds his palm into it.]
no subject
[Damus slides his fingers against the gathering slickness of Kaon's valve, finding his node easily. He rolls the rub gently between his fingers, eager to have Kaon writhing on his lap. He had missed this.
Kaon's hand dragging down his ventral plating has Damus pressing ever closer, the heat radiating from his panel climbing by the minute. Damus allows his panel to slide open, spike nosing out only slightly.]
no subject
[And he took no lack of pleasure from watching Drift squirm.
The hand at his valve makes the engine for his generator hum, rumbling in the center of his chassis as he leans his hips into it. It feels good, and the longer Damus' fingers stay at his node the more heat starts to spread through his hips.
He doesn't leave Damus neglected. The sound and feeling of the panel opening has his hand there in an instant, his thumb brushing over the tip of that shy spike as his other fingers dip lower, stroking down over his valve.]
You've never been one to reject offered pleasure.
no subject
[Optics dim as Kaon leans his hips into Damus' touch. He continues to rub circles, pleased when it earns a small trickle of lubricant from between the soft lips of his valve.
His cooling fans click on with a roar when Kaon's thumbs over the fat head of his spike. Damus lets his hips twitch under Kaon's weight as he allows a breathy moan to escape.]
Why would I ever want to do that? After all, you've always been so good at giving it...
no subject
[Kaon's frame warms to the touch, his fans picking up and then cutting off a few times until internal temperature is high enough that they stay consistently on. While his one hand is busy down below, he stretches the other around Damus' shoulder and strokes his neck, his hips rolling gently into the palm.]
I guess my bid to have your voice repaired would be out of the question now.
[He hates feeling pressed down under the Autobots' thumb, but at least he's distracted enough to not let it get to him too much. As Damus' spike noses out the tip of one of his fingers catches the piercing, and he rolls it through the head, pausing whenever he feels resistance.]
no subject
I'm not sure that they are capable of that. Nickel did her best to repair it... I'm not sure much else can be done.
[He focuses on the task at hand-- on the wet valve beneath his hand, greedily rolling into his palm. He's careful as he allows just one thick finger to slip in, relishing as hungry calipers ripple against the digit.]