He Wants A Frag.

He’s out of options. Everything is too hot and too much, and he knows how to make it all stop.

::Idk who this is but free sex. I’m offering. Just. I’m gonna explode. Interface. Now.::

And lo, it has happened. The weirdest comm. call Dreadwing has ever gotten.

It takes him several seconds to even come up with a response, given he's not doing especially well either.

:: ... Excuse me? ::

"Yes."

Suddenly, the heavy Seeker moves and rolls them both over, so that now Ghost is on his back -- but with hand and arm still back there so he didn't just slam down.

"Firm, I can do. Rough makes me a little less thrilled, but I can drill you into a surface of your choosing."

@ghostlyvisage

A low, happy purr from the flightless seeker as armor flairs out and rattles quietly. "If your willing to give it.. a taste of your spike and a nice, hard frag..." Returning the nip as claws trace along his frame. "Think you'll be able to indulge me?"

One big bear paw of a hand lifts and gently, very gently runs over Ghost's back, playing lightly with seams.

"If that is what you want, I can give it. "

Can't sleep the clowns will eat him.

It’s a lazy, golden haze of an early morning. The sort of morning where lounging in bed doing next to nothing is only made better by sharing it with someone else. Rung’s glasses have been forgotten on the nearby table, but he’s shifted from recharging against your side to straddling your undercarriage, thighs pushed wide apart around your far larger frame.

His servos are warm from being held in yours, and careful, too, as they trace along seams and parting lines.

When he stretches up for a kiss, his bared valve rubs against your armor with a wet squeak that makes him laugh and shift back to lick at the smear he’s left behind.

“I’ll fix it,” Rung promises, servos wandering lower to caress your hip-joints, your modesty plating, as he ends up between your legs, sea-green optics glowing. “You just relax, brightspark. You do so much already.”

It was... such a good night.

Dreadwing has taken his time with Rung. There has been no hurry. It is true that the blue and gold Seeker comes and goes, and there is always the chance that he may come across some obstacle in the multiverse that that he cannot overcome. But, in his opinion, that maybe was never worth rushing things.

The little orange mech has his family -- his support system. He has Megatron and Elegy and countless other close ties and friends. If anything were to happen to Dreadwing, Rung would be okay. He never doubts this.

So... he has allowed himself this comfort.

As is his nature, Dreadwing had lavished Rung in attention. Helm to pede, he'd smothered him in touches and love, and had received the same -- they're both service partners in their own way. But it was nice. They had spent the night tangled together, giving and taking in equal measures until the lines blurred and neither of them knew which way was up. All they could do was feel.

And then they rested, until the soft purple-blue of dawn stains the sky and casts the room in a balmy, inky light.

Unlike Rung, Dreadwing has no removable privacy panels; his retract, slotting away with a thought, so the concept of leaving one's underwear off (as it were) is foreign to him. Thus, the wet squeak catches him off guard, forcing a chortle from his frame.

He will be stealing that kiss regardless.

"There is nothing to fix," the Seeker rumbles in his deep timbre, optics low, like a wine dark sea.

"Good morning."

@sparkchamber

↕️are they a sub, dom, or switch? top, bottom, or switch?

Dreadwing is a top-leaning switch, and better yet, he's a service switch. He gets off very well just on the pleasure his partner is enjoying, usually due to his own effort.

Dreadwing can't help but shudder at those slim, lithe fingers of hers, little clawtips getting into his armor. He wastes little time, leaning down to catch her mouth in a hot, fierce kiss. "I can do that. Now... where would you like my mouth first...?"

She climbs on to the huge nest, crawling closer. Past all comforts, of berth, she finds a good seat upper on his lap, and small digits already find the seams of his armor.

" Hmm. You're very much running, I can tell. I can feel. But I might be in need of some convincing..." she grins, letting hand set over where she can feel the engine. " of course I could help, with a little jump-start, if needed. "

And, of course, she is welcome in his ship and in his berth. Dreadwing thrums deep in his chest, fluffing the pillows and blankets of his nest around her.

"I am old, but not yet dead, my dear," he purrs. "I will ensure to give you a run for your shanix."

@sin-cxde continued x

" I may get just little too comfortable... right here. And then you will have I, distracting you from everything else all night. Keep your claws busy. Sure you can handle it? "

@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.

One of his hands slips down to the small of her back, pulling the falcon flush against his frame. Dreadwing dips his helm and gives Air Razor a kiss.

"You were talking about something I find very interesting..."

// Dreadwing is a service top.

Not mentioning for any reason at all.

Send in Kinks and My muse will rate them.

Definitely not | No | Not Really | Its Okay | Kinda | Yes | Fuck yes |There goes my pants |

Bonus: Giving | Receiving | Both