Out of Bounds

Summary: *AU* What are you supposed to do when you're just a simple babysitter and a certain, crazy 'copter decides they like you? Mech/Mech, slash, angst, language, mentions of rape and abuse
Rating: M

Chapter 4: Pillow



C.M.D: This chapter is not necessary to read, but it is an addition, which I believe further showcases Vortex depravity and twisted mentality, despite his youth. If you feel uncomfortable at the idea of a sparkling and masturbation, please feel free to skip ahead.

Vortex didn't sleep much anymore.

“Aah.... aah.... o-oh.... y-yeah.....”

Rotors shivering, the sparkling thrust faster, his spike slipping easily between the self-made rip in his pillow. The hole had been made weeks prior, the material first worn down and then eventually just ripped altogether from the frequency of the helicopter's masturbation. Even the usually soft, plump filling inside was nothing more than lumpy and matted cotton, soaked with the number of times Vortex had overloaded still sheathed inside its folds.

Really, it wasn't the best feeling -what with the scratchy texture of the cotton and the slimy sensation of old transfluid- but it was the best that Vortex could simulate to a real valve and he liked it best when he overloaded, and could feel his hot liquids filling the space and dampening the area between his thighs.

“Mmm..... F-fireflight......,” the sparkling moaned, sitting up, bunching the pillow tighter under his legs and rocking harder. He offlined his optics, fingers like claws around the cushion, as he let his processor  run away with some of his favourite fantasies: visions of Fireflight, his new babysitter, folded underneath him, plating peeled back and wrists cuffed tightly to his berthframe as the jet whimpered and gasped, begging to be pounded until he overloaded hard. Oh, how badly he wanted to fill the Autobot up with his fluids.

Hunching over a little, Vortex quickly pulled out of the pillow, flipping it over, revealing a photograph of Fireflight's face taped to the other side. He kissed it, right on a worn-down spot near the picture's mouth, before straddling the pillow again -this time about the middle- and began to fist himself roughly. “Y-yes.... yes.... yes, yes, yes, yes,” he hissed, panting harder, giving his spike a few good squeezes. “So-soon..... soon, F-fireflight. Soon, I..... I'm g-gonna-”

Vortex whimpered as he overloaded, transfluid splattering across the pillow and on the image's face. The helicopter stared, fascinated, by how beautiful the fluid looked decorated across Fireflight's photograph. He just knew it would look a hundred times better in reality. Cooing, spent and sated, the sparkling collapsed on top of his soiled pillow; hips rocking into it slowly as he kissed and licked at the photograph's glossy face, murmuring words of adoration and longing desire for the mech smiling back up at him.

“Mine.... my Fireflight,” Vortex purred, hugging his pillow tightly, his visor dimming as his optics slowly shuttered beneath it. He sighed, rotors shivering again as he slipped off to recharge finally, schemes and ideas running through his helm and all concerning his beloved, innocent, and corruptible babysitter.