Kink Ask: Scratching And Biting That Leave Marks

Hmph. He is horny and annoyed by this.

Dreadwing instantly closes the space between them, but doesn't crowd the Ornament. Instead, he sits on the other side of the couch, watching him with a worried expression.

"You are needed," he gently asserts. "You are coveted, also, as a friend, a mate, a parent. But you are not only here to be devoured. You are not here for the benefit of others to the detriment of yourself."

The Seeker takes in a vent. "The easy way is not always ... the right way. What do you want? From this place, from us, from me? What can I do?"

{ @sin-cxde }

"Which do you want to be?"

Curled up in the corner of the sofa, Rung peers out at Dreadwing from under the arm over his face. His oculars sit abandoned on the nearby low table.

“I don’t know if I have a preference. I need others, but I also want to be needed. I am usually something to be… consumed, coveted. I let others put what they want on me like a mirror. It’s easier, that way.”

Dreadwing is happy to let the mech indulge, and reciprocates. Reaching around, he trails the tips of his claws tantalizingly lightly down Ghostspire's back plating, exploring. He's always thought it odd that he could never quite tell what the bounty hunter transforms into, and playing with the seams and gaps of metal at his back still doesn't give much clue. Not that that is at the front of the Seeker's mind at the moment.

"We will get to that," he assures, stealing another kiss. "just be mindful of my scars, hm?"

Pressing his helm back with a soft purr, golden optics squinting up in amusing.

"It would please me if I got more than a kiss," He purred, helm dipping down a little more to give the mech a gentle, but firm kiss. "I don't mind biting, and I would enjoy it if you got rough." Leaning a little closer to run his claws down Dreadwings wings. He just wanted to touch a little, sensitive or not. It had been awhile since he had been able to touch another's wings.

He was indulging slightly.

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

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? ::

He can do that. Dreadwing will never be the roughest or hardest of tops, but he can do firm. He can give this mech what he wants. At least, mostly.

Purring softly, he strokes the plush lips of Ghost's valve, only to take his hand away and pick him up. But he remembers the warning about his back, and sets the hunter down on the berth gently.

And slowly, he kisses his way down Ghostspire's body. Both hands palm along the insides of his thighs, and finally, he teases the mech's node with his glossa.

"Better?"

He grinned, letting his panel slide back and rocking into Dreadwings servo. His valve was soft, not quiet wet enough for a spike yet though.

"I want to be pinned down, bitten, mechhandled and fragged until I can't think." He growled, claws raking down Dreadwings arms again. He could do soft, yes, but it wasn't always what he wanted. When he fragged he wanted to forget everything but the heat and the feel of the other against him.

Leaning close and nipping the edge of an audial with a purr.

"If you think you can handle that, Dreadwing~"

why do Dreadwing's cheekguards look like good resting spots for legs -shot-

Because they are.

send 👀 + a dirty thought and/or fantasy your muse has had about mine. let's see how my muse responds.

your muse = sender, my muse = receiver.

A soft whuff leaves his rib vents as Ghost gets to work. He did spot that flash of fang, and bares his own despite his distraction. "Careful of the teeth," warns Dreadwing, though his tone suggests playfulness rather than a serious worry that the mech might bite him.

It doesn't take much. Ghostspire will be able to feel the spike in his mouth firm up completely within moments. The Seeker can't help but squirm.

"Yeah, I can help with that." The mech grins, sharp fangs on display before he take his spike in one servo. Claws gently curl around it, transforming back and thumbing over his tip before forked glossa slowly licked. Two tips curling up and around before carefully starting to take him into his intake.

Claws on his other servo transformed back, slowly starting to rub his node and purring softly.