Smut fic.
Title: Reward
'Verse: TFA
Characters: Rodimus Prime. Unnamed, hinted at characters.
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Dom/Sub.
He knelt, blindfolded, arms bound behind his back. Mistress had checked her ties to make sure nothing pinched the wrong way about… half a decabreem ago? Even checking his chronometer, he wasn't sure. Time had a way of going fuzzy for him when in a session with Mistress.
She had left, saying she was going to bring back a nice surprise for him. Petted his helm, nudged his knees a little further apart with a pede and told him to be a good mech and stay in place. Then he'd tracked the click of her heel struts against the floor, half wary, half anticipatory, as she moved away, not relaxing even after hearing the door open and close behind him.
He fidgeted a little. Fidgeting was allowed, Mistress liked watching him squirm, and it was hard to remain motionless with the specially charged cables Mistress preferred when tying up her pet. Little flickers of current, not strong enough to sting, teased his plating and his spoiler where the cords and knots pressed against him. He squirmed some more, trying to ignore the other places where the cables were pulled tight, but his shifting only sent more sparks dancing against his exposed valve, external node and the base of his unsheathed spike. Slick soaked the cords pressing between his legs and trickled down his thighs as he clenched futilely around nothing, and he whimpered to himself, heat rushing to his faceplates.
When Mistress returned, the first thing she would remark upon would definitely be her pet’s wet, desperate hole. Imagining her amused commentary made his plating heat more, and to his embarrassment another trickle of lubricant escaped his valve, along with a dribble of mechfluid from the tip of his spike. Intakes beginning to work faster, his world slowly narrowed to the sensation of electric charge playing over plating, cables binding him tight and cool air over his interface array.
How long had it been? He didn't bother checking his chrono again. Mistress would return at her pleasure and he would be a good mech for her. Easy, really. All he had to do was obey. More than the overloads she sometimes deigned to allow him, it was being able to do everything she demanded that was the true release.
Footsteps outside. More than one set. Mistress’s voice, talking to another bot. He stiffened, processors whirling. Mistress had never brought another into their sessions before… And oh AllSpark his back was to the door. Anyone standing there when it opened was going to get a good opticfull of him, tied up and dripping lubricant.
He shuddered, mentally rejecting the thought, but his interface array had other ideas. More fluids dribbled free and he bit his lip, trying to suppress the needy whine that wanted to escape his vocaliser.
“I think we've made my pretty wait long enough.”
The words snapped him out of his churning thoughts just in time to hear the door open. Frantically he tugged at his bonds, instinct overcoming him, though his knees remained planted where Mistress had set them. He only succeeded in stimulating his teased chassis further, and the black of his visual field sparked white for a nanoklik as he moaned, helm dropping forward helplessly.
“Now pet, is that any way to greet your Mistress and her guest?”
He shook his head, intakes hitching at the rush of humiliation and arousal as he realised what she expected from him. Slowly, as he'd been trained, he lowered his front to press it against the ground, lifting his aft higher at the same time. The cables pulled tight against his valve as he moved, rubbing against his exterior node, and his spike hung low, hot and heavy as he presented himself for his Mistress’s inspection.
“Mm, much better.”
His momentary relief at having pleased Mistress was cut short when the other bot spoke.
“You were right though, he does look very pretty when he squirms.”
Oh.
He knew that voice. He heard it rarely, busy mission schedules meant little time for socialising, but he could still pick it out of a crowded atrium no problem. Red Alert had teased him and he had protested. Crush, what crush? It was an entirely professional admiration going on there.
Not that it mattered now that he was bent over in front of the mech in a very unprofessional manner, thighs spread, interface equipment on display, frame hot with embarrassment, need and lust, completely unable to see his reaction.
A fingertip slid over his valve and he nearly fell over, startled. A cool hand cupped his overheated faceplates and he pressed into it, recognising Mistress’s touch like the good pet he was trying to be.
“What colour are you, pretty?”
Colour? His befuddled processors spat out the only reply he could think of.
“M-mostly maroon? Maybe burgundy? Some orange and yellow?”
Mistress chuckled, stroking his cheek affectionately.
“Oh pet, accurate, but I need a different sort of answer.”
He would have grovelled for saying the wrong thing, but Mistress was still petting him, which was confusing. She spoke again, voice gentle.
“Rodimus, what is your colour?”
Oh… Oh! Hearing his actual designation cleared his head enough for him to answer properly this time, and he did so sheepishly.
“Green, Mistress.”
“Very good, pet.”
He purred a little at the praise, then louder when Mistress chuckled and stroked his helm, then down his back and over the curve of his raised aft slowly.
“He's very responsive to you.”
“Mmhm. He's done well in his training. So I thought I'd reward him with you.”
He'd almost forgotten their audience. A second rush of embarrassment flooded his circuits at the reminder, chasing the warmth of Mistress’s words, followed by a surprised mewl as two fingers sank easily into his valve, pushing the cables stretched there aside, making them tighten further around the rest of his frame.
“I must say, I definitely picked the right present. He's never revved up this fast for me.”
He wanted to protest, he was Mistress’s alone, crush or no crush, but when her fingers started moving all he could do was moan in pleasure, trembling with the effort of not rocking onto Mistress’s digits before he had permission to. The wet sound of his valve seemed to echo loudly in his audios, along with his needy cries, and he felt his faceplates growing impossibly hotter as the thought of having this mech, of all bots, witnessing his wanton display only made his valve grip Mistress’s fingers tighter.
“Well, delicious as he is to watch like this, if I'm to be his reward, I should get to rewarding.”
Mistress pulled away and he keened, valve suddenly bereft, though he knew better than to hope for an overload so soon. Even blindfolded he could see the arch smirk on her face when she responded to the other mech.
“You just want to play with him too.”
“That's why you invited me over, isn't it?”
He heard Mistress laugh, and footsteps coming closer, then a hand tugged at one of the cords binding him, snapping it against his aft. He squealed in surprise, valve clenching, sending more lubricant running down his thighs and another rush of hot embarrassment through his frame.
“Your Mistress wants to show you off, pretty thing.” He shivered at the low murmur, optics dimming behind his blindfold as his helm was stroked slowly. A hand slid under his chin, lifting his head. He followed easily, letting the hand draw him back up to his original kneeling position, trusting Sir to keep him steady.
“You’re a good pet, aren't you? Such a well trained lovely.”
Sir released his chin, but kept touching him, talking into his audio, stroking his cheek, petting his helm and his spoiler. A palm smoothed over his chestplates, sliding lower oh so gradually, and he made a needy little sound, thoughts going fuzzy again, losing himself to the sound of that voice and those caresses.
“And good pets with wonderful Mistresses get treats, don't they?”
He nodded, purring contentedly, hips jerking unconsciously to press into Sir’s hand as Sir rubbed his midsection. Yes, Mistress was wonderful and he would be a very good pet for both Mistress and Sir.
“What treat would you like, pet?”
Sir’s hand wrapped loosely around his neglected spike and he whimpered, helm drooping as Sir stroked him slowly, collecting the mechfluid that seeped from the tip of his spike and smearing it along his throbbing length.
“I could get you off this way. Or,” and here Sir released his spike to skim a fingertip over his exterior node and the slick outer edges of his valve, wringing a gasp from his vocaliser, “oh, you like that, don't you? Do you want to be filled, pretty thing?”
He whined in indecision. His spike throbbed, dripping steadily, but the thought of being fragged by Sir and pumped full of mechfluid made his intakes pant, and his valve, aching and empty, teased almost to the point of oversensitivity, fluttered against Sir’s fingertip greedily, trying to draw it deeper. All he could think about was that he wanted his treat to last as long as possible, and if Mistress wanted to show him off...
Sir withdrew, and instinctively he leant forward, mouth open, seeking. He could hear Mistress laughing softly as he bumped his nasal ridge against Sir’s frame and nuzzled his way up Sir’s thigh, eventually finding his target. Sir sounded amused as well as he petted his helm.
“This what you want, lovely?”
He nodded, making soft, eager sounds into Sir’s plating. Sir chuckled, panel opening, and immediately he latched on to Sir’s interface array, working enthusiastically to coax his treat out.
“Eager little pet.” Sir murmured, continuing to pet him as he mouthed and nuzzled at Sir’s spike when it unsheathed, lipping at its sides, tracing the ridges with his glossa. Pressing kisses up the hot length, then to the tip, he paused to lick his lips, savouring the taste of Sir’s mechfluid before diving back in. Engulfing Sir whole in one smooth swallow like Mistress had taught him, pressing his nasal ridge against Sir’s abdomen, he heard a pleased hum that made him purr happily in response.
“You're so good at this, lovely. Look at you, not a Prime, not a leader, just a wanton plaything down on your knees and happy to be there.”
Sir started talking again, hands stroking his helm and back of his neck, fingers finding the cables tied there, pulling gently on the cords, making all of them shift against his frame teasingly, and he moaned around Sir’s spike even as his faceplates heated further.
“How’re you gonna face me at the next big meeting, pet? Knowing that I've seen those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my spike?”
He squirmed, arousal ramping higher, head bobbing faster on Sir’s spike as Sir continued, voice low and darkly amused by his attempt to hide how turned on he was.
“You play at denying it, but that gets you hot, doesn't it? Thinking about sitting there, remembering the taste of me in your mouth, wishing I'd filled your greedy little valve as well. You'd get all wet and sloppy, making a mess of yourself while hoping that no one else notices.”
His bindings were being pulled in brief, sharp tugs now, the cables sparking and squeezing him tight, making his intakes work harder, needy mewls and whimpers coming faster. Sir’s free hand took hold of his helm, holding him still as Sir thrust into his mouth, and he shut his optics off fully, sinking deeper down into that heady place where he drifted, wrapped up in the pleasure of being bound, being used, and the vivid imagery of Sir’s words.
“Mm, that's it pet, just stop thinking. You're close to coming, aren't you, pretty thing? Want me to give you a hand?”
He keened pleadingly and the cables binding him were suddenly yanked on, hard, scraping over his sensitised frame mercilessly, especially over his exterior node, sending pleasure rocketing through his systems and slamming him into overload with a helpless wail, just as Sir flooded his mouth with mechfluid.
He slumped forward, fans whirring loudly, frame trembling, traces of Sir’s mechfluid trickling out the corner of his mouth. Careful hands undid his bindings, but left his blindfold on, then cleaned his messy plating and rubbed cool nanite gel over any abrasions or scuff marks he'd acquired. He tried to shift away when those hands started applying gel to his much abused exterior node and the outer rim of his valve, but found his hips pinned down firmly and his panel held open as he whined and fidgeted feebly in protest.
When he was finally allowed to close his panel, someone carried his sluggish frame onto his berth. Distantly, he registered someone massaging his limbs, rotating his joints to work out any stiffness from being restrained. A blanket was draped over his chassis and two bodies settled on either side of him. Coolant was tipped slowly into his mouth and he drank thirstily, making a faint sound of complaint when it was taken away, subsiding when a silica wafer coated with sweet energon paste was pressed to his lips. Sips of coolant alternated with bites of the goodie until he turned his head away from the next offering, snuggling down into the warmth surrounding him and drifting off into a light recharge.
He onlined slowly, systems practically purring at how relaxed he was. Eventually he realised that there was one less bot sharing his berth than before. Well, it wasn't like he expected whoever it'd been to stick around until he'd resurfaced anyway. He still flopped into the vacated space on his berth with a slight pout. His berthmate snickered at him.
“He wanted to be here when you woke up, but that Prime of his called. And on his off cycle too. Honestly, old asteroid chin doesn't deserve him.”
His intakes seized, stuttering.
“It really was-?”
“Who else would it be?”
She looked at him, puzzled, and he sputtered, faceplates blazing hot.
“I was blindfolded! You could have just rigged someone up with a voice modulator and I wouldn't have known the difference!”
“But I could trust no lesser bot with you.”
She squeezed his hand, smiling softly, and he smiled a shy smile back before his processors yanked him back to the original issue.
“... But that means he… and then I…”
He stalled, and she teased.
“Do you need some alone time in your bunk?”
Hot faceplates buried in his hands, he nodded, and she laughed as she walked out of his room.
Pre-fic snippet:
Negotiations
So, what are the limits here?
Physical stimulation, praise and a little humiliation. No pain play, we're not into it. We've not really tried any impact stuff yet either.
Gotcha. How about things like talking about how cute that aft would look bent over the briefing room table? Is bleedover into regular life a concern?
It might make those briefings more interesting if it was. We've been able to keep things separate so far, considering our respective positions. I think he can cope. Plus, he really gets off on it. You might not get very far before he goes off.
Mm, I'll see what I can work in. Safewords?
Standard colour pattern, red for stop, green for continue, yellow for slow down.
And he's okay with someone else coming in?
Yeah, we've discussed it. He's given me the go ahead to surprise him whenever I want.
He okay with it being me?
Oh AllSpark, the way he moons over you. This will either get it out of his systems or allow me to gauge how often I should set up ‘playdates’ with you.
Hah, such a spoilt pet.
He's too cute when he begs and he knows it, unfortunately.
Softy.
Like you're not just as bad with yours.
He pouts. It's adorable.
'Verse: TFA
Characters: Rodimus Prime. Unnamed, hinted at characters.
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Dom/Sub.
He knelt, blindfolded, arms bound behind his back. Mistress had checked her ties to make sure nothing pinched the wrong way about… half a decabreem ago? Even checking his chronometer, he wasn't sure. Time had a way of going fuzzy for him when in a session with Mistress.
She had left, saying she was going to bring back a nice surprise for him. Petted his helm, nudged his knees a little further apart with a pede and told him to be a good mech and stay in place. Then he'd tracked the click of her heel struts against the floor, half wary, half anticipatory, as she moved away, not relaxing even after hearing the door open and close behind him.
He fidgeted a little. Fidgeting was allowed, Mistress liked watching him squirm, and it was hard to remain motionless with the specially charged cables Mistress preferred when tying up her pet. Little flickers of current, not strong enough to sting, teased his plating and his spoiler where the cords and knots pressed against him. He squirmed some more, trying to ignore the other places where the cables were pulled tight, but his shifting only sent more sparks dancing against his exposed valve, external node and the base of his unsheathed spike. Slick soaked the cords pressing between his legs and trickled down his thighs as he clenched futilely around nothing, and he whimpered to himself, heat rushing to his faceplates.
When Mistress returned, the first thing she would remark upon would definitely be her pet’s wet, desperate hole. Imagining her amused commentary made his plating heat more, and to his embarrassment another trickle of lubricant escaped his valve, along with a dribble of mechfluid from the tip of his spike. Intakes beginning to work faster, his world slowly narrowed to the sensation of electric charge playing over plating, cables binding him tight and cool air over his interface array.
How long had it been? He didn't bother checking his chrono again. Mistress would return at her pleasure and he would be a good mech for her. Easy, really. All he had to do was obey. More than the overloads she sometimes deigned to allow him, it was being able to do everything she demanded that was the true release.
Footsteps outside. More than one set. Mistress’s voice, talking to another bot. He stiffened, processors whirling. Mistress had never brought another into their sessions before… And oh AllSpark his back was to the door. Anyone standing there when it opened was going to get a good opticfull of him, tied up and dripping lubricant.
He shuddered, mentally rejecting the thought, but his interface array had other ideas. More fluids dribbled free and he bit his lip, trying to suppress the needy whine that wanted to escape his vocaliser.
“I think we've made my pretty wait long enough.”
The words snapped him out of his churning thoughts just in time to hear the door open. Frantically he tugged at his bonds, instinct overcoming him, though his knees remained planted where Mistress had set them. He only succeeded in stimulating his teased chassis further, and the black of his visual field sparked white for a nanoklik as he moaned, helm dropping forward helplessly.
“Now pet, is that any way to greet your Mistress and her guest?”
He shook his head, intakes hitching at the rush of humiliation and arousal as he realised what she expected from him. Slowly, as he'd been trained, he lowered his front to press it against the ground, lifting his aft higher at the same time. The cables pulled tight against his valve as he moved, rubbing against his exterior node, and his spike hung low, hot and heavy as he presented himself for his Mistress’s inspection.
“Mm, much better.”
His momentary relief at having pleased Mistress was cut short when the other bot spoke.
“You were right though, he does look very pretty when he squirms.”
Oh.
He knew that voice. He heard it rarely, busy mission schedules meant little time for socialising, but he could still pick it out of a crowded atrium no problem. Red Alert had teased him and he had protested. Crush, what crush? It was an entirely professional admiration going on there.
Not that it mattered now that he was bent over in front of the mech in a very unprofessional manner, thighs spread, interface equipment on display, frame hot with embarrassment, need and lust, completely unable to see his reaction.
A fingertip slid over his valve and he nearly fell over, startled. A cool hand cupped his overheated faceplates and he pressed into it, recognising Mistress’s touch like the good pet he was trying to be.
“What colour are you, pretty?”
Colour? His befuddled processors spat out the only reply he could think of.
“M-mostly maroon? Maybe burgundy? Some orange and yellow?”
Mistress chuckled, stroking his cheek affectionately.
“Oh pet, accurate, but I need a different sort of answer.”
He would have grovelled for saying the wrong thing, but Mistress was still petting him, which was confusing. She spoke again, voice gentle.
“Rodimus, what is your colour?”
Oh… Oh! Hearing his actual designation cleared his head enough for him to answer properly this time, and he did so sheepishly.
“Green, Mistress.”
“Very good, pet.”
He purred a little at the praise, then louder when Mistress chuckled and stroked his helm, then down his back and over the curve of his raised aft slowly.
“He's very responsive to you.”
“Mmhm. He's done well in his training. So I thought I'd reward him with you.”
He'd almost forgotten their audience. A second rush of embarrassment flooded his circuits at the reminder, chasing the warmth of Mistress’s words, followed by a surprised mewl as two fingers sank easily into his valve, pushing the cables stretched there aside, making them tighten further around the rest of his frame.
“I must say, I definitely picked the right present. He's never revved up this fast for me.”
He wanted to protest, he was Mistress’s alone, crush or no crush, but when her fingers started moving all he could do was moan in pleasure, trembling with the effort of not rocking onto Mistress’s digits before he had permission to. The wet sound of his valve seemed to echo loudly in his audios, along with his needy cries, and he felt his faceplates growing impossibly hotter as the thought of having this mech, of all bots, witnessing his wanton display only made his valve grip Mistress’s fingers tighter.
“Well, delicious as he is to watch like this, if I'm to be his reward, I should get to rewarding.”
Mistress pulled away and he keened, valve suddenly bereft, though he knew better than to hope for an overload so soon. Even blindfolded he could see the arch smirk on her face when she responded to the other mech.
“You just want to play with him too.”
“That's why you invited me over, isn't it?”
He heard Mistress laugh, and footsteps coming closer, then a hand tugged at one of the cords binding him, snapping it against his aft. He squealed in surprise, valve clenching, sending more lubricant running down his thighs and another rush of hot embarrassment through his frame.
“Your Mistress wants to show you off, pretty thing.” He shivered at the low murmur, optics dimming behind his blindfold as his helm was stroked slowly. A hand slid under his chin, lifting his head. He followed easily, letting the hand draw him back up to his original kneeling position, trusting Sir to keep him steady.
“You’re a good pet, aren't you? Such a well trained lovely.”
Sir released his chin, but kept touching him, talking into his audio, stroking his cheek, petting his helm and his spoiler. A palm smoothed over his chestplates, sliding lower oh so gradually, and he made a needy little sound, thoughts going fuzzy again, losing himself to the sound of that voice and those caresses.
“And good pets with wonderful Mistresses get treats, don't they?”
He nodded, purring contentedly, hips jerking unconsciously to press into Sir’s hand as Sir rubbed his midsection. Yes, Mistress was wonderful and he would be a very good pet for both Mistress and Sir.
“What treat would you like, pet?”
Sir’s hand wrapped loosely around his neglected spike and he whimpered, helm drooping as Sir stroked him slowly, collecting the mechfluid that seeped from the tip of his spike and smearing it along his throbbing length.
“I could get you off this way. Or,” and here Sir released his spike to skim a fingertip over his exterior node and the slick outer edges of his valve, wringing a gasp from his vocaliser, “oh, you like that, don't you? Do you want to be filled, pretty thing?”
He whined in indecision. His spike throbbed, dripping steadily, but the thought of being fragged by Sir and pumped full of mechfluid made his intakes pant, and his valve, aching and empty, teased almost to the point of oversensitivity, fluttered against Sir’s fingertip greedily, trying to draw it deeper. All he could think about was that he wanted his treat to last as long as possible, and if Mistress wanted to show him off...
Sir withdrew, and instinctively he leant forward, mouth open, seeking. He could hear Mistress laughing softly as he bumped his nasal ridge against Sir’s frame and nuzzled his way up Sir’s thigh, eventually finding his target. Sir sounded amused as well as he petted his helm.
“This what you want, lovely?”
He nodded, making soft, eager sounds into Sir’s plating. Sir chuckled, panel opening, and immediately he latched on to Sir’s interface array, working enthusiastically to coax his treat out.
“Eager little pet.” Sir murmured, continuing to pet him as he mouthed and nuzzled at Sir’s spike when it unsheathed, lipping at its sides, tracing the ridges with his glossa. Pressing kisses up the hot length, then to the tip, he paused to lick his lips, savouring the taste of Sir’s mechfluid before diving back in. Engulfing Sir whole in one smooth swallow like Mistress had taught him, pressing his nasal ridge against Sir’s abdomen, he heard a pleased hum that made him purr happily in response.
“You're so good at this, lovely. Look at you, not a Prime, not a leader, just a wanton plaything down on your knees and happy to be there.”
Sir started talking again, hands stroking his helm and back of his neck, fingers finding the cables tied there, pulling gently on the cords, making all of them shift against his frame teasingly, and he moaned around Sir’s spike even as his faceplates heated further.
“How’re you gonna face me at the next big meeting, pet? Knowing that I've seen those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my spike?”
He squirmed, arousal ramping higher, head bobbing faster on Sir’s spike as Sir continued, voice low and darkly amused by his attempt to hide how turned on he was.
“You play at denying it, but that gets you hot, doesn't it? Thinking about sitting there, remembering the taste of me in your mouth, wishing I'd filled your greedy little valve as well. You'd get all wet and sloppy, making a mess of yourself while hoping that no one else notices.”
His bindings were being pulled in brief, sharp tugs now, the cables sparking and squeezing him tight, making his intakes work harder, needy mewls and whimpers coming faster. Sir’s free hand took hold of his helm, holding him still as Sir thrust into his mouth, and he shut his optics off fully, sinking deeper down into that heady place where he drifted, wrapped up in the pleasure of being bound, being used, and the vivid imagery of Sir’s words.
“Mm, that's it pet, just stop thinking. You're close to coming, aren't you, pretty thing? Want me to give you a hand?”
He keened pleadingly and the cables binding him were suddenly yanked on, hard, scraping over his sensitised frame mercilessly, especially over his exterior node, sending pleasure rocketing through his systems and slamming him into overload with a helpless wail, just as Sir flooded his mouth with mechfluid.
He slumped forward, fans whirring loudly, frame trembling, traces of Sir’s mechfluid trickling out the corner of his mouth. Careful hands undid his bindings, but left his blindfold on, then cleaned his messy plating and rubbed cool nanite gel over any abrasions or scuff marks he'd acquired. He tried to shift away when those hands started applying gel to his much abused exterior node and the outer rim of his valve, but found his hips pinned down firmly and his panel held open as he whined and fidgeted feebly in protest.
When he was finally allowed to close his panel, someone carried his sluggish frame onto his berth. Distantly, he registered someone massaging his limbs, rotating his joints to work out any stiffness from being restrained. A blanket was draped over his chassis and two bodies settled on either side of him. Coolant was tipped slowly into his mouth and he drank thirstily, making a faint sound of complaint when it was taken away, subsiding when a silica wafer coated with sweet energon paste was pressed to his lips. Sips of coolant alternated with bites of the goodie until he turned his head away from the next offering, snuggling down into the warmth surrounding him and drifting off into a light recharge.
He onlined slowly, systems practically purring at how relaxed he was. Eventually he realised that there was one less bot sharing his berth than before. Well, it wasn't like he expected whoever it'd been to stick around until he'd resurfaced anyway. He still flopped into the vacated space on his berth with a slight pout. His berthmate snickered at him.
“He wanted to be here when you woke up, but that Prime of his called. And on his off cycle too. Honestly, old asteroid chin doesn't deserve him.”
His intakes seized, stuttering.
“It really was-?”
“Who else would it be?”
She looked at him, puzzled, and he sputtered, faceplates blazing hot.
“I was blindfolded! You could have just rigged someone up with a voice modulator and I wouldn't have known the difference!”
“But I could trust no lesser bot with you.”
She squeezed his hand, smiling softly, and he smiled a shy smile back before his processors yanked him back to the original issue.
“... But that means he… and then I…”
He stalled, and she teased.
“Do you need some alone time in your bunk?”
Hot faceplates buried in his hands, he nodded, and she laughed as she walked out of his room.
Pre-fic snippet:
Negotiations
So, what are the limits here?
Physical stimulation, praise and a little humiliation. No pain play, we're not into it. We've not really tried any impact stuff yet either.
Gotcha. How about things like talking about how cute that aft would look bent over the briefing room table? Is bleedover into regular life a concern?
It might make those briefings more interesting if it was. We've been able to keep things separate so far, considering our respective positions. I think he can cope. Plus, he really gets off on it. You might not get very far before he goes off.
Mm, I'll see what I can work in. Safewords?
Standard colour pattern, red for stop, green for continue, yellow for slow down.
And he's okay with someone else coming in?
Yeah, we've discussed it. He's given me the go ahead to surprise him whenever I want.
He okay with it being me?
Oh AllSpark, the way he moons over you. This will either get it out of his systems or allow me to gauge how often I should set up ‘playdates’ with you.
Hah, such a spoilt pet.
He's too cute when he begs and he knows it, unfortunately.
Softy.
Like you're not just as bad with yours.
He pouts. It's adorable.