Primus, He Wants To Get Laid.

Send Smash or Pass + a name and my muse will say if they would smash or pass on that person.

// Dreadwing is a service top.

Not mentioning for any reason at all.

@suckmybearings

He exvented when his subverted connection was abruptly cut from the ship's communication channel; an alert of failure flashed across his HUD when he attempted to call back. With a fissure of annoyance, the Wrecker knocked hard against the underbelly a two more times, and then continued to knock as he started walking to the front of the ship. "C'mon, hoss," Wheeljack coaxed in a loud, taunting voice, banging his fist against the steel hull with every step he took. "You're one of my girls, too. I got somethin' y'a need." As he rounded to the front and positioned himself to be seen, full-view, through the ship's windscreen, he reached down and unholstered the grenade from his hip.

"And one way or another, I'm comin' in."

The floor is at least somewhat cool, though it is rapidly heating up as it absorbs the excess off of his frame.

He's already tried the washrack, turning the flow of solvent off in favor of straight water (from the outdoor hookup), as cold as it would go. It felt nice while he was in there, but the second he stepped out, things just got hot all over again. And somehow, it just seems to be getting worse.

The unnatural revving of internal processes has transcended from profoundly needy to painful. Everything hurts, everything throbs -- Primus, even his dermal layer is aching. A breath of breeze feels like sandpaper against the Seekers extremely raw external sensors, and for a while he deeply considers trying to get to the hospital.

That thought is quickly dismissed. What is he supposed to tell them? That something in his head BROKE and he's so horny that it can't even be classified as "horny" anymore and he feels like he's going to have a fuel pump failure and a brain aneurysm all at once?

And what the FUCK is that noise?

"The intruder is still outside, captain," the Sky Claw's AI informs him.

Wheeljack. The rat bastard is outside, pounding on the underbelly of the ship.

Dreadwing groans.

"Captain," it repeats. "The intruder appears to be brandishing an explosive."

He's what. That gets his attention.

Despite his intense desire to just stay on the floor until he dies, the Seeker forces himself to his feet and lurches up towards the cockpit. It takes him four tries to type in the correct code (his hands are shaking something terrible) to unlock the port side quick-access door panel, but when he hears it click and hiss a bit, Dreadwing slams the hatch open, making it rattle on its tracks.

The ladder rungs, normally tucked seamlessly into the ships paneling, pop out when the door is opened.

"WHAT?!"

It's probably the most horrid and aggressive he has ever sounded.

"Wheeljack, if you are stupid enough to even think about setting that off, reconsider. I have enough explosive material in here to level this entire yard and half of the slagging space port across the street. Now, go away."

S P I K E //Alphabet meme (No pressure to write all)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Dreadwing's stamina is good especially for his age. He is no spring chicken anymore, it's true, but he can still often keep up with the shenanigans of most younger mechs. Though, he has far more stam when he's topping and using his spike. He tends to come unraveled far more easily when he's using his valve, as he doesn't do it much.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy is just as important or more so even than sex itself. He can go without interface just fine, but if there is no intimate connection to his partner, his interest very quickly wanes. Dreadwing is fine with one-night stands, but in the long run, he vastly prefers emotional connection.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He doesn't have too many kinks, but one would be that he very much does enjoy threesomes and group sex, though more than four including himself and he starts getting uncomfortable.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

In terms of what he knows, Dreadwing is very experienced. Tactile, fingering, mouth, general penetrative interfacing in common positions -- he's been doing that for ages and has worked hard to be good at it (like everything he tries to do). But kink and heading farther south than french vanilla territory and his knowledge quickly becomes very limited.

They are both broken creatures, it seems. Dreadwing nods, venting softly against Ghost's mouth. Still, there's something at the back of his mind, nagging, bothering, like a splinter in a joint. Big hands spread out along the hunter's back, feeling scars and evidence of prior damage, but there's something particular about it.

The Something comes a bit more to the forefront, even as he runs his sharp teeth along the mech's chestplates and collar. Deft talons run along those seams, but now he's paying attention to the details. Gaps, sensors, placement... it all seems so... familiar.

It feels like wings.

"Ghostspire," he ventures, rumbling voice soft, running his glossa up the curve of the other's throat.

"...Did you have wings?"

The touches to her back get Dreadwing a soft moan as claws find the dips and gaps were his wings used to be. The surface sensors were clean enough to be able to be sensitive to changes still, and the touch was enough to make him shudder and arch. Claws twitch against the others wings, eagerly returning the mechs kiss.

"Of course, and be mindful of my back, hmm? You can touch, just try not to throw me on it." Claws trailed from his wings down to his sides, starting to search for sensitive spots on the mech.

What is Your Muse's Sexual Disposition?

stolen from @suckmybearings

He's straddling him and giving Dreadwing a firm, hungry kiss.

Oof - !

Dreadwing looks up, then sits up on an elbow to return the kiss hotly. Someone seemed to read his mind.

Using sharp teeth, he nips at Ghost's mouth. "I take it you would like something...?"

Aft play

Definitely not | No | Not Really | Its Okay | Kinda |Yes | Fuck yes |There goes my pants | HOLY SHIT GIVE IT TO ME NOW

Bonus: Giving | Receiving | Both

"...What even is that?"

@air-razor

She trills, lifting her helm obligingly under the barely there pressure of claws. Watching him with a hooded look. Wings ruffling as she peeps sweetly before daring to press a bit closer. Talons gently swirling over the glass of his cockpit.

It is horny bird hours, it seems.

Dreadwing thrums and drags his clawtips along the curve of her delicate throat, enjoying the touch to his cockpit.

"Well?