I Need Him

"Dreadwing? Hello? I brought the Rumikub set! Oh, and some tea that Ratchet recommended. We still on for today?"

At first, there is no answer. The Sky Claw II looms ominously, all dark plating, sharp curves and knifelike spires. Primus only knew where Dreadwing had gotten his beloved starship -- he's usually rather moot on the subject.

But then, among the distant din of the nearby busy spaceport, one particular engine sound gets louder and closer.

Dreadwing banks overhead, spiraling down to bleed off speed before transforming and landing to the aft of his ship.

"Sky Claw, cargo bay ramp, please."

"Of course."

"Thank you." And finally, the Seeker actually notices the scout. Wait. What day is it? Ah, slag.

"I dislike admitting forgetting appointments, but here we are." Silver claws gesture to the now lowered ramp up into the lower parts of the vessel. "I hope I did not keep you waiting long."

//the more i answer these the more i realize that dreads just isn't into the popular kinks dhfjdshkfkldskfd

He locks his ship down and hides in it.

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.

There's a long, long pause. Then, Dreadwing turns to regard the Wrecker.

Thirty-three feet and more than fifteen tons of Seeker suddenly, slowly, advance on Wheeljack.

"I mince my words for no one. Least of all the likes of you."

Hmph. He is horny and annoyed by this.

Anonymously send my muse a wet dream. Make them feel horny or fluster when they’re awake.

Dreadwing very much likes knowing when a partner is enjoying his touch, and sound is a relatively reliable source of information. But not on it's own. The body has tells as well, with how it moves, and Ghost isn't being secretive. The gripping of sheets, the feeling of strong heavy legs around his frame... claws at his helm.

The Seeker pulls back to give the hunter's node a kiss, only to bite the top of one of his thighs -- enough to pinch, but not enough to draw blood.

"Lovely view," he murmurs, licking the spot his teeth scraped.

His helm fell back and he moaned, low and long as thighs twitch and legs curled around the seeker. Arching and pressing more onto his glossa, claws twisting into the sheets and shivering. It had been awhile since anyone had bothered (or since he let anyone) to pay close attention to his valve.

His valve quickly became slick under Dreadwings glossa, clenching eagerly around him and shivering. He felt good, finding nodes that didn't get touched often. One servo reached up and grabbed the Seekers helm, lightly clawing the back of it as he shuddered and moaned.

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 entirely about consent. There are SO MANY things he will try if all parties are consenting. This also means that consent can be taken away at any given time for any reason or no reason at all.

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