crux_fleet | (no subject)

....don't tell him that, Flashpoint. A) he'll get jealous that Shockwave was touching your mechboobs and B) uh...what were we talking about?

He is getting the distinct feeling that she's putting on a show for him. Not a big flashy kind of show, but the kind of taunty kind of show that's probably half mean.

No one's ever put on a show for him before. Dammit. Stop being all special like that, Flashpoint.

"I will." Have it his way, he means, but he has a distinct feeling that it's going to be pretty much her way.

She's way too slow, and he sees how she keeps skipping over the good parts. Flashpoint. He didn't crash into your bathroom to watch you check your knee armor. Is he gonna have to get in there and show you how it's done?

Apparently he will. Here, Flashpoint: hold this engex, also minus a sip of Liquid Courage, as he steps in, grabbing a scrubbie. "Doing it wrong."

Shockwave was only touching them in the most scientific way possible. Though, he kind of touched all of her holoform but does the code itself really count???

The taunty kind of show that's mean is exactly what's going on here. Because that's what he gets for opting to just spectate! You want to watch Deadlock? Well, she's going to give you something to see then.

In a few minutes here when she works up the courage, SHUTUP!

Apparently her gambit pays off though, because he can't just stand there with his hands full of booze and nothing else. Flashpoint's happy to take that off his hands though, stealing a sip of her own, browridge shooting up as he grabs for the scrubbie. "Oh, you gonna show me up then?" Please do Deadlock, Cybertronian master of cleanliness.

No you shut up. Harrumph.

Especially about Shockwave messing with her bumpers. Perverted fraggin' Senators.

And he'd like watching if he had something called 'patience'. He has none. "Gonna show you how it's done." He is going to scrub you up good.

Wait. That doesn't sound sexy at all. He's just gonna take the scrubby and trail it down between her thighs. Actions speak louder than words...right?

Can't make her, HUFF.

And maybe Shockwave was a little perverted, given the upgrades he made to her holoform while teaching her how to program them. He insisted on being thorough and precise, but she wonders sometimes.

Patience? Deadlock? Yeah that'll be the day. It's working in her favor though as that scrubby moves down her plating, between her thighs which might spread oh-so-casually. Hey she's just shifting her weight okay? So she can stand a little taller and remind Deadlock he's the little guy here.

And maybe it takes a whole lot of her self control not to put her hands on him in ways that aren't nearly as subtle as he's being. She can't entirely control her EM field though no matter how tight she tries to keep it. Sorry Deadlock, if that thing it's doing is kinda rude.

Oh he's totally gonna try to make her...uh...something.

That's it, Flashpoint, tell Deadlock all about Shockwave and your weird bumpers. That'll really bring out his sunny disposition.

Oh, was he being subtle? Is he gonna have to try harder? He just might...after he skims this scrubby over that open equipment cover again. "...the frag did you get goop in here?" Seriously, Flashpoint. 'Getting into your work' had its limits.

Gonna make her squirm is what. It's kinda hard to keep up tough appearances when someone's got their fluffy scrubby thing up against your privates. But she is doing her best here, even if hot air gusts from her vents. That's just because the water's running hot. Yeah, really.

"I didn't!" That would be super gross Deadlock, do not even go there. Though, uh, that means she has to explain her ulterior motives. "I was just making sure. That stuff gets everywhere. Almost." Wow she needs to shut up with that line of logic because it's going nowhere good for her.

When in doubt? Turn on the bold. Brazen behavior is her solution for everything right? So she'll lean into the touch, and closer to Deadlock too, a slippery, tilty smile on her face. "You're being way more thorough than last time." Are you gonna kiss her too Deadlock? Because she might get there first.

Yeah, well, maybe that's what he's counting on, Flashpoint. Drop that whole tough thing. It's his schtick, anyway. Besides, you look better when you're a little off kilter.

It sure would be super gross, but hey, he's reaching for excuses to get up close and cleany-personal with you, so...don't question him. And don't notice that the scrubbie is doing a lot less touching, and his fingers a little bit more, sliding over the washrack-slick equipment covers. And looking down as she leans in and oops, getting distracted. What was he doing? Oh, right, trying to be a jerk.

"Because you're dirtier than last time." What? Did she think he was gonna say he was grateful for her saving his aft? Yeah, right. ALso, he's tipsier than last time. And the thought of kissing her does cross his mind, a lot, kind of like a stampede of cyberrhinos galloping around his processor. Which leaves him looking at her, feeling her lean up against him, probably looking a little stupid.

Because that's totally new for him, right?

Hey, he's not solo owner of the tough act ya know. Besides, with her it's not an act, so there! She can just, uh, choose to be more relaxed and accessible whenever she wants. Though the rare notion that someone even wants access is more that Flashpoint could expect. Or hope for.

What? She just wants a good post-battle frag okay? No other reason! Get your frilly-loving processor out of schmoopyville. It's weird ~~and kind of cute~~ in there.

Deadlock's not going to need much excuse to make with the hands-on cleaning routine pretty soon here, not given the way she's gravitating towards him, this whole thing escalating like a runaway train. "Better get to it then." Because yeah, she's dirtier all right. With one sent command her valve cover whispers open under his fingers, apparently ready for inspection, but her spike is not missing this party, hell no, and it auto releases all on its own with a noise that almost sounds like 'finally!'.

Got your hands full now Deadlock.

Though so does Flashpoint. She's gonna fix that by turning in the home stretch of the lean in for that kiss, downing the rest of his engex and leaving the cylinder somewhere that might end up being the floor--bah, unimportant details--and pressing their mouthplates together before she swallows it all. Sharing is caring, right?

Clearly they should enter into some shared custody arrangement with the tough act, because it's obvious they both can't have it at the same time.

Don't make him think about frilly stuff, because he'll start thinking that in one of the main shops, he's seen some decorative chain fringey stuff that would look, yeah, uh, really distracting swinging off her spoiler or around those doorpanels.

Those doorpanels that crowd against him, helping push him against the wall. He could totally escape if he wanted to, by the way. Just saying. Just...why the frag would he want to, when he's getting a double handful of aroused Flashpoint. The scrubby may or may not actually fall to the floor--he's not paying attention to it--one hand sliding over the rim of her valve, feeling the silky metal, the other closing around the spike, thumb rubbing the head as their bodies press together, cleanser sluicing over them, the narrow gap between their bodies, pouring over her spike against his belly.

He's almost glad for the kiss, because frag him if he can figure out something snarky and cool to say right now. Instead, he just makes a half-startled, but not at all unwilling sound, before pressing his mouth against hers, hungrily, and not for the engex.

Shared custody sounds fair, and while they're at it, they might consider maturity in that deal too, because then maybe one of them would have it at any given time.

Hey if Deadlock wanted to buy her gifts they wouldn't get returned, just saying. And, you know, pretty things are always an option in case he doesn't want to increase her armory stock.

And sure he could escape if he wanted, his knee would fit great where his hands are now and she'd have no capacity to stop him from leaving. But you know, that's no fun at all right? So if she crowds him it's just a reflection of her desire seeping through, past the denial, and into the push of her hands over his pauldrons, her lipplates against his, the rumble of her engine as she feels his hands on her.

The kiss tips Deadlock's helm back as she looms over him just a bit, the engex tingling over their mouth components, her glossa flicking out over his dentae with a soft growl of need. Yeah Deadlock, she's just going for it, all the way. Risk of crash and burn: accepted.

There's a tiny part of his brain, very crowded out, that's wondering how this exactly happened again? But there's a much larger part of his brain that told that tiny part to shut the frag up or it'd have to get rough with it.

All that matters, according to his sensornet, is her body pressing against his, and the way her spike pulses in his hand. And the kiss, forceful enough to mean business, mingling hot arousal with sweet engex.

It's a little crowded between them for both his hands--frag, right now, tentacles WOULD come in handy--so he, with great reluctance, slips his hand away from her valve, sliding it around her hip, fingertips exploring her aft under the long tails of her doorpanels. He's going to refind that valve, he figures. He'll just take his time about it.

There's a tiny part of her brain that wonders why he even wants her, but the rest says don't even question it, because questions are dumb and better saved for those long lonely hours of the night when recharge won't stay initiated. Enjoy what you get and enjoy it while it lasts, the mantra of her life. So if she seems eager that's a big reason why Deadlock. Flashpoint's not holding back, not for caution or propriety or any of that scrap. Hope you can handle it, because it this is too weird for you, might might wanna jump off this runaway train!

So maybe she's a little put out at first as those fingers draw away from her valve, but oh hello, there's a hissing intake as they move to her aft, her body surging slightly, spike sliding in the grip of his hand, a noise escaping her mouth as she breaks the kiss. But don't go anywhere Deadlock, she's not done kissing you. At least that's what the bite to his lower mouthplate says and the way her hands rake down his sides, almost possessive.

He can't put why he wants her into words. It started with the grenade, he thinks, the way she didn't back down, but also didn't turn her nose up at him, with contempt.

But that had just been the start.

And yeah, he's gonna smirk into the kiss as she makes that hissing sound. Oh, do you actually want the evil Decepticon to be touching you? Tsk, tisk, you naughty Autobot.

He gives a feral little growl into the bite on his lipplate, hiking her hips closer to his with his own hand. "Beginning to think you want me," he purred. Go on, stroke his ego, as he slides his hand up your spike.

There's something intense in him that she respects, something that would change her view of Deadlock even if she didn't know who he eventually becomes. And Flashpoint's glad to know him here, as he is, because he feels more on her level, a solider just trying to make things a better place.

So yes she wants you Deadlock, as if the way her body arcs into that touch isn't a giveaway. And shut up, she doesn't think you're evil, no more so than she is, which strikes a cord of commonality that draws her deeper into this.

Unless you meant naughty-evil, in which case YES, show her just how evil you are Deadlock. Consider it a dare, even. The hike of her hips gets an engine rev, grinding her pelvic frame against his, spike twitching in his hand as charge prickles over the surface. The rake of one of her hands ends at his interface panel, thumb and forefinger digging into the join of each hip as she gives it a squeeze. "Yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it?" Have another nip to your jaw Deadlock, she likes that little growling thing you do.

Well, then. The words send a strange, hot thrill through him. She wants him. She. Wants him. Three little words and it's kind of impossible to wrap his mind around.

Still, he's enough of an opportunist to take advantage of it, anyway. He's used to not getting much: when something is offered to a mech who's used to starving, he grabs at it with both hands.

Both hands as in here, one on her aft, and the other--temporarily!--leaving her spike, to pull her head back, baring her throat. He lets the warm cleanser fall on the cables for a moment, anticipation building, before leaning forward, biting at her exposed cables, growl of desire rumbling through him. What he wants to do is take her, to make her feel as wild and out-of-control as he is, but he doesn't want to mess this up. Somehow, this matters. Somehow, she matters. He's not used to that.

His spike releases, under the hatch, and she probably feels the soft thud of the metal hitting metal.

"What won't I do?" So, yeah, pretty much anything...as soon as he builds up the courage to try.

If he can't wrap his mind around it, he just needs to look down at his hand wrapped around her turgid spike to get an idea. Want rises into need and she bucks into his movements, a rough compromise between wanting to press into both those hands.

But when Dreadlock's hand moves to her helm the touch to her bright crest draws a gasp, mouthplates staying parted as her head is tipped back. Flashpoint tenses, optics going narrow, body twitching as she consciously resists the urge to defend a vital area.

She can't say why. She shouldn't trust him by most sane measurements, but she lets it happen anyway, the cables standing taut as the cleanser runs over them. A few tense seconds tick by but then she makes a sound, less like want and more like release, her body going supple against him as the wall she keeps up crumbles. And it's almost too much, how she can feel the sound reverberate through her throat cables and against his mouth. Heady and real and yeah this was just supposed to be a casual frag right? So why is she shivering?

That confusion pushes her to action--she doesn't have to think much while her body's moving--and her fingers seek out that hatch release, the rough awkwardness a little more than being blinded by desire. Flashpoint's hand is on his spike the moment it springs free, and she leans into him, feet spreading further to bring their pelvic frames in line, making a grab for both spikes.

There's some encouragement Deadlock, because if you want to take her she just might let you. But she wants a share of this first, her hands on you like it matters, saying things her voice can't, like it's been building to this all along.

Edited 2014-10-16 23:07 (UTC)

Yeah, trusting Deadlock is normally a terrible idea. Unless...he's getting something he wants. And right now, he wants this, probably more than he's wanted anything in his life.

Maybe it's the cyberdrenaline or something that's battered down his barriers. He'll come up with a rationalization later. Right now, he wants to concentrate on the taste of her throat cables, clean and well-oiled, pinching one fuel line between his dentae just a little bit, to feel it flex under his fierce kiss.

His whole body jolts as she reaches for his spike, which throbs against her fingers, his hips almost vibrating with tension. He feels, yeah, tense, wound tight, like something about to explode.

"This," he mutters against her throat, his palms gliding around her hips, fingertips probing into the gaps, "is all your fault." Just for the record. This is on you. All of it. Including the fact that he can't keep his hands off you.

If history's proven anything it's that Flashpoint is full of terrible ideas. And this is a truly terrible idea. Except it's also the best idea as far as her body (and some other part her that she's going to casually deny the existence of) is concerned. Hey, if she lives through this she'll have some pretty awesome bragging right though right? That's kinda how Flashpoint rolls with all the dumb ideas that put her life on the line.

So yeah, she doesn't need much more of a rationalization than that, especially when she can feel his dentae close around a fuel line, the biting sharpness of his kiss sending a thrill through her that draws out another moan, coupled with the hands roaming over her hips and aft, like he's seeking all the places she's most sensitive, stirring little pockets of charge as he goes. Flashpoint's body quakes with desire, a sharp longing that she can't put a name to but also can't deny, her hand on his spike going from a rough squeeze to measured strokes, fingers moving independently to explore every node and turn of the deco.

"Nuuuuh-huh." That's something of an affirmative tangled with a moan, in case you need a translator Deadlock. "Not feelin'. too guilty yet." And she's probably not gonna either. Flashpoint's own spike quivers against her belly, ventral nodes teased by the passage of her thumb as she strokes Deadlock's spike, her free hand digging into the join of his shoulder under the spaulder, as if clinging to life itself.

Deadlock's going to blame some sort of neurotoxin in the tentagoop for this later. You know, like organics and frog licking or whatever. Neither of them were really in their right mind.

So, yeah, he's, uh, helplessly in the clutches of tentacular neurotoxin. He just can't help himself. That's gonna be his excuse. And her, of course. Still totally her fault.

"Guess I'll have to work harder, then." The words are a growl against her throat, dentae skimming her throat cables. His hands are already on that job, snaking around her aft, for once appreciating the fact she was taller than he was, fingertips just managing to tease the edge of her valve. His spike surges as he feels just the edge of it, slipping hot lubricant against her fingers, and he shifts his hips, their spikes brushing together.

Well they can't exactly blame the engex, not unless they're both lightweights, considering they each only got to half a glass before this tumbled into needing both hands for...other things.

Clearly it's engex mixing with the neurotoxin turning them both a little wild and crazy! Not, ya know, a dumb secret crush or anything. NO WAY. She doesn't do crushes unless it's someone face or something...

"Gonna be hard. Pretty s-shameless." Yeah that hitch in her voice and in her vents comes when he grazes the edge of her valve, hips automatically tipping back to give him better access, lubricant slicking the lining. It swipes her spike along the shaft of his, drawing a rumble from her engine. Warm breath gusts from her mouth against his finial, half a moan, her tongue swiping out over the finial's surface as she wraps her hand around both spikes with a squeeze.

Between the two of them they have so many excuses that nothing, ever, will be their fault.

And he totally doesn't have a crush on Flashpoint. No way. That's just crazy talk. It's just...yeah, she got in the way of his hands. That's it. She got all up in his hands...and his face...and he's just being polite about it.

Because he's so polite.

"Maybe I like it hard."

WAIT. SHUT UP That was supposed to be saucy and sassy and not...yeah, you know what? He's just gonna take the initiative, pushing off the wall, to the other wall of the narrow washrack, pressing her back against it, his fingers still curving around the rim of her valve.

Flashpoint wants to know where all these excuses came from so she can apply them in other areas of her life. Though it probably says something about Flashpoint that she can't fess up to wanting him this badly but she can concede accountability for things like living collateral damage.

And if this is Deadlock being polite then he needs to do it more often. Because he's hit the perfect level of aggression: not infuriating like he can be with the whole Autobot thing, but giving her enough guff that the friction entices her.

It's why she doesn't fight it when he walls her against the other side of the washrack. Well, not quite. Her body takes his weight, his bulk pressed against her, giving a thrilling sort of writhe that says very little about resistance. But even as her aft presses into those hands, encouraging those fingers deeper, her free hand yanks hard on one finial, tipping Deadlock's helm back so she can claim his mouth in a feral kiss.

Deadlock has an unending mine of excuses. He's needed them, because eventually he figured out he couldn't headbutt and shoot his way out of every problem.

This is absolutely Deadlock's best company manners, that he dusts off for absolutely no one. So she might be special but he's gonna tell her that like just about...never.

And she doesn't fight him because A) he's clearly superior and B) she wants this almost as much as he does and maybe C) Not so much A as much as B but don't bruise his tiny ego.

But she can bruise his mouth, lip plates meeting his, his growl mingling with the fall of cleanser, his hands gripping hard on her aft, fingertips trying to probe her valve. "Gonna get yourself some trouble if you keep that up." And by trouble, he means, you know, him.

He's ahead of Flashpoint then, because even though she tries to sass her way out of most things it usually gets her into more trouble, of the variety that excuses don't really...excuse.

Not that she's gonna excuse herself from this, no, she's feeling less and less shameful by the minute. Maybe she'll even tell him that, oh....someday.

And yes more B than A but someday she'll have to admit that B is because there are things about him that, well maybe are kinda impressive. She's not going so far as to say superior though! Don't go getting a big head now.

She grins against his mouth, almost as feral as the kiss, the chip in her dentae standing out sharply. "When you gonna learn that I like trouble?" She gives their spikes a squeeze, thumb rolling over the head of his as she draws back into those fingers probing her valve in maddeningly shallow ways. It becomes a rythym then, hips rocking forward and back, thrusting against him and back into his hands, the complex surfaces of their spikes creating a unique friction. Her engine growls against him, almost as husky as her voice.

"Give me this and then you can paint my valve silver." Because maybe she wants to mark your chassis with her own before she lets you all up inside her. Because maybe she wants to see you lose control of that pretty face of yours before she presses her own to the wall. But actually Deadlock, there's no maybes about it.

Well, his excuses don't always work. Now that she's sampled the quality of his excuses, she might have a clue as to why.

It doesn't stop him from trying, though.

Just like it doesn't stop him from leaning closer, to lick at her mouth, almost teasingly. "Suppose you want me to thank you for earlier, huh?" FAT CHANCE. Except, of course, the way his hands continue to flirt with her valve, his hips pushing against hers, tipping up longingly into the touch, shivering at the raunchy promise in her voice as much as the squeeze of her hand around his spike.

oh no please no stop.

nope NEVAH

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LOL maybe we should add a warning to this log?

maybe. :P kinky robots being kinky

very kinky :D

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fffff I tagged this twice XD

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oops I should be doing homework. :|

lol i wasn't even aware you were in a class!

I'm not, that's work for my boss on the side

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