Orgasm Denial. Orgasm Anger. Orgasm Bargaining. Orgasm Depression And Orgasm Acceptance.

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? "

PANTS.

Smash or Pass Ghostspire

"...Smash."

I need him

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.

@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."

@gladiatorsteamroom

Steamtrack wasn't much of a fan of the festival herself, but had been curious enough to come and see what it was about. Sure, there had been a few things that she enjoyed, but the crowds weren't one of them, and she hadn't expected to catch someone staring at her. She wasn't exactly sure what had given her the confidence to walk up to the seeker as she did, but she wasn't complaining either - especially with the way she had noticed him staring. He wasn't too bad of a looker himself... and he seemed familiar... Surely they had met before, right? He definitely had a build she wouldn't have forgotten easily - hadn't she run into him before? "Hey, it's alright! If it helps, I didn't mind you staring - I liked it, actually." She slipped her servo into his after trailing it down his arm, "But I am curious now if you are interested." There was a small pause before she added, "I'm Steamtrack, by the way."

Nothing about the festival is really holding his attention. Tentatively, his own claws curl around her hand, massive paw enveloping hers effortlessly. Is Dreadwing interested? Of course he is. He is neither too old for a shake nor is he dead. He just has to remind himself to be a little wary about sudden one-night stands.

Still. He has needs and it has been a while.

"Yes," he replies after a beat. "I think I would be interested. My name is Dreadwing. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Send me a Character and I'll tell you if my Muse would sleep with them

Not Enough Alcohol in the World || No || Maybe if I were wasted || Maybe || Eh…Sure || Yes || TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF NOW!

👀 + “I want to— I want to map everything out with my mouth, my hands. I want to memorize the places that feel good to you, so that I might understand you. Would you have the patience for that, I wonder? Letting me feel and taste you?”

"While I hesitate to give concrete answers when I do not know to whom I speak, I can tell you that my patience is near infinite."

"You keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you're interested." + Slowly sliding a hand down their arm, interlacing fingers.

It is some sort of festival. Dreadwing isn't sure exactly what it is for, but the particular section of the sky being closed off, and the bright explosions of color from the fireworks, attracts his attention.

He knows he'd be just as happy staying in, but ... in some self-aware way, he also knows that he should not completely sequester himself from society. The Seeker decides he will go down, have a drink or two, and see what there is to see.

Evidently, Dreadwing had been staring. He starts a bit despite himself, heat flushing his faceplates a little in embarrassment. But... he does not pull away. Where does he know her from?

"Ah," he finally manages through a tight throat. "I apologize. I should not have been staring."