Multiple ratings within
Chapter 14: Onslaught and Skydive III
C.M.D: The last half of this chapter contains sex, but a censored version can be found on Fanfiction.net, so fear not!
Title: History
Rating: T
Summary: They discuss past events
“Listen, those are all well and good,
but the best way to overcome an enemy is through surprise,”
Onslaught scowled, tapping aggressively at the textbook page. “Find
some good bait, set up a sound trap and you've got the makings of a
perfect ambush.”
Blue optics flashed in opposition.
“Ambushes are anything but perfect,” Skydive retaliated. “Have
you forgotten the events of Floron II? Intelligence officers planted
persuasive dead ends and brought rebel forces right where they wanted
them, only for the thing to almost blow up in their faces!”
“But they still managed to heavily
damage the rebels, crippling their power and thus making them easier
to pick off later.”
“Only at the loss of the Allies' own
general, and severe injuries to several other important figureheads
to the war,” the autodog pointed out. Onslaught's frown deepened
and he flipped the pages of the book along, opening it up to another
chapter.
“In battle, all losses are to be
expected and even considered beneficial,” the serval said to his
companion. “There's nothing wrong with using guerrilla tactics or
'under-handed' tricks, as you call them. It's war -anything you can
and are able to do to gain the upper hand is how you play the game.
For example, during the Dark Ages when soldiers were unable to
encroach further upon enemy territory because of hills and slants,
they would use false signals or beacons to trick the enemy into
thinking they were out of resources or in distress, luring them
closer until they were within range of a decent attack.”
Skydive pushed his servos off of the
book, flipping back through it again and pointing to a page that was
well-thumbed. “Strategy tactics like that are acceptable, but do
you not recall the Simanzi Massacre?,” the shih tzu started, his
tone fierce. “What started out as well plotted individual uprisings
around ancient Iacon, soon turned into madness when the rebels'
leader went underground to avoid assassination attempts from the
Empire. Instead of leading singular, smart attacks at various
locations in and around Iacon, to weaken the city and thus its
rulers, orders carried by oath-bound messengers were misplaced, mixed
up or simply miscommunicated to the scattered forces. The rebels lost
complete control of themselves! They attacked and preyed on whomever
they chose, without direction or fore-thought.”
Onslaught opened his mouth to
interject, but the other mech turned the page again, his finger
pressing against the paper hard as he turned his passion-lit optics
to the kittycon. “They amassed and attacked the villagers of
Simanzi -Iacon's ghetto, sanctioned from the rest of the city-
slaughtering millions! Most of whom were women and children! That
wasn't strategy or war, that was murder made by mad, battle-lust
crazy barbarians. Iacon lost hundreds of its own forces stomping out
the rebels and even then, no good was brought about by the end of it.
Iacon was still held in the power of a Monarchy and was left
vulnerable to outside invaders for decades.”
The kittycon was stunned. He looked to
the book, catching Skydive's pleased smirk, before he focused
entirely on the section that the younger mech had gestured too
earlier. Slaggit, he thought, the autodog was right. “A valid
point,” Onslaught conceded, loving the way that Skydive's optics
flashed in intellectual triumph and the proud air the shih tzu
exuded. “But,” he quickly added, “The movement of several,
different forces can still be effective even if the figure of power
is missing from battle, granted that they are working through a
structure of hierarchy and not simply electing temporary leaders to
run each individual group. The account of the documented 'Surge', for
example, is....”
The two mechs leaned in closer
together, faces breaking out into equal smiles as the discussion
continued; both their sparks and their processors enjoying what the
other had to offer.
Title: Swoon
Rating: T
Summary: It's lunchtime again for
Skydive
His professor's buzzer went off,
informing the entire class that the lecture was done for the orn.
Immediately, shuffling broke out as students grabbed their notebooks
and bags, heading quickly to either of the two exits of the lecture
hall. Taking his time, Skydive returned his things back to their
appropriate places, spark already whirling in excitement. It was
lunch time now for him and as had been happening frequently the past
few orns, he expected Onslaught to be waiting for him out on the
lawn.
The shih tzu got to his pedes, unable
to suppress the foolish grin that broke out on his face as he
shouldered his bag. Maybe they'd continue their discussion from last
time about the benefits of intelligence officers in battle, or
perhaps they'd even deconstruct and analyze the methods the
Protectons used when they ruled, which had led to their downfall
hundreds of vorns ago.
Skydive walked out the door of the
lecture hall, hugging his history textbook to his chestplates. He
absolutely loved the talks he had with the kittycon. Onslaught was
well-informed, the autodog noted. Not to mention that he also was
very opinionated, but he kept his processor open for new ideas and
always had a strong counter-argument prepared if he came across
something that he didn't necessarily agree with. He never cut a
person off until they'd said their piece, he was gracious to allow
someone to defend themselves or give them the time to do so and he
believed that no one was too old to learn.
“The world shifts and changes too
much for someone like myself to just sit back and say, 'That's it.
I've learned everything there is. I am now wise. Let others find
their answers in me',” the kittycon had once said to him.
“The truth is, even the 'answers' change with time. Those so-called
'scholars' can keep their fancy degrees and titles; I'll keep
learning what the world has to offer until there's not a breath left
in my body anymore. That's what makes one wise.”
Skydive had instantly archived those
words deep into his memory banks. There was an honesty and a
determination in them that was uniquely all Onslaught himself, and
when those dusky, blue optics lit with fervor and grey lip components
turned upwards with a confident smirk.....
The shih tzu almost walked straight
into a hallway pillar when he realized he was.... was..... swooning
over his older friend. Stricken with horror, Skydive tried to shake
the thoughts from his helm, but found himself unable. This.... this
was wrong, he was sure! Onslaught was a good and respected friend; he
should not be thinking such indulgent things about him.
But, a little voice persisted, what
if.....?
Skydive stomped on that idea before it
could fester. “No.... no, he's a good friend,” he muttered to
himself, giving his helm another shake, “Just a good friend.”
Onlining his optics again, the autodog was disappointed to find that
he'd wasted several kliks of his lunch already. Continuing on his
way, Skydive felt his spark pick up its sporadic whirling again -this
time in trepidation of what might await him once he got outdoors.
Title: The biggest fool
Rating: T
Summary: He muses as he waits to see
Skydive again
He was the biggest fool on the planet.
That's what Onslaught felt, sitting
down in some noisy cafe, putting up with the loud-mouthed younglings
behind him and the piss-thin bitter oil he was nursing in his servos,
and all because this place was close to Skydive's classes. Glancing
quickly at his watch, the kittycon resumed his staring out the
window, keeping his optics peeled for any sight of the shih tzu
across the street.
A fool and a stalker.
Scowling, Onslaught forced himself to
look away from the gaggle of Academy students, rubbing at his optics
and doing his best not to sigh out loud. What was he doing here?
Spending the majority of his orn sitting in a cafe, throwing away
credits on their disgusting oil and counting down the kliks until he
could cross the street and intercept Skydive during his lunch.....
Everything he was doing was just flat out creepy, even by his
standards, and Onslaught didn't do creepy. That was more his stupid
son's thing.
Yet, the serval wasn't about to get up
and leave either.
No, because he was too afraid that he
might miss Skydive when it came time for the autodog's lunch, and the
thought of not seeing the younger mech -even for an orn- didn't sit
well with the kittycon. He didn't like the idea of Skydive having
some “fateful” encounter with another during his free time.....
This time, Onslaught really did sigh.
He was too old for this, evidently, not to mention that he'd also
been out of the dating scene for decades. The great strategist
couldn't think of how to approach this situation, let alone how to
begin to court Skydive. Was the pup even interested? Would he be put
off by Onslaught's age alone, never mind his size or his race?
The kittycon forced himself to drink
some more of the nasty oil, reveling in its sharp burn on his glossa
as he shook those silly thoughts from his helm. Alright, so he knew
he was old, he knew he was fairly large and obviously he was aware of
the fact that he was a kittycon. The fact that he was sitting here
and stressing over those unchangeable attributes like some pathetic
youngling was.... well, pathetic. Besides, Skydive didn't seem to
mind any of those things at all when they went out together, on what
Onslaught liked to think of as preliminary dates.
If discussing war strategies and
stealing glances at the beautiful shih tzu could be considered
“dates”.
The kittycon buried his face in his
servo. Primus, he was a fool.
Title: Crush
Rating: T
Summary: Brawl is confused by what's
going on with Onslaught
“Daddy's been acting strange....”
Blast Off and Vortex both stopped what
they were doing, turning and facing their brother. Brawl scratched at
his servo, looking up at the ceiling momentarily, before looking back
at his brothers with that same meek, little simpering expression on
his face. “I don't know why. Is he sick?”
“Not likely,” the siamese answered
blandly, attempting to soothe his younger sibling. “Perhaps-”
“Pfft! Daddy-o's always been a basket
case!,” Vortex cut in, waving a servo flippantly. “What ever
could that aft be doing that isn't strange?”
Blast Off glared at the lynx.
“But.....,” Brawl started softly,
“He's talking to himself all grumpy like and his room is a mess,
and he's not cleaning it up.”
That got the attention of his brothers.
“....say what now?”
“Is he doing this right now, Brawl?,”
Blast Off asked. The serval nodded his helm. Immediately, Vortex
threw aside his porn magazine, leaping off the couch and slinking up
the stairs like some silent shadow. Scowling, the older kittycon put
down his own book as well, him and Brawl following in a slower
procession.
Vortex was already huddled at their
sire's door by the time they reached the landing; quietly, the two
mechs shifted into position alongside the lynx, peeking through the
gap and into Onslaught's room. Being the strict and orderly mech that
he was, Onslaught usually kept his room and his house in a constant
state of cleanliness. There was never an item where it wasn't
supposed to be when it came to the neat kittycon.
His room did not look that way now.
Clothes were thrown all over the berth
in one giant pile and were spilling over onto the floor, while
various colognes were placed haphazardly about the room; one on the
nightstand, another fallen on the floor, and two more tangled up in a
discarded sweater. Before the kittycons could ponder as to what sort
of madness was unfolding in their sire's berthroom, there came a
disgruntled growl from farther around the corner. Immediately, they
shifted angle, staring in disbelief as they caught sight of
Onslaught, standing in front of his bathroom mirror and wrestling
with a tie around his neck cables.
“....stupid..... can't....
useless..... glitch!!,” the serval hissed to himself, giving up in
his attempts to do up the tie, ripping it off with a roar and
throwing it towards the pile on his berth. Huffing, Onslaught turned
and stomped off towards his closet, yanking the doors open angrily
and shuffling through the clothes, still muttering what sounded like
curses and death-threats under his intakes.
Sensing that their lives could be in
danger if they remained any longer and were discovered by the irate
serval, the three mechs quietly backed away from the door, heading
back downstairs.
“Well.....,” Blast Off sighed once
they were in the clear.
“W-what's wrong with daddy?,” Brawl
asked, twittering into a panic. “I-is he sick?! Is he going to
die?! I don't want daddy to die! DON'T LET DADDY DIE BLASTY!”
Vortex cackled as the serval grabbed
the siamese, shaking him wildly. “Daddy-o ain't sick Brawly,” the
lynx smirked devilishly, “Not unless you call getting bit by the
love-bug being ill.”
“H-huh?,” the brown mech looked at
his brother in confusion, shuttering his optics tearfully.
The other kittycon's grin grew. “Can't
you figure it out? Daddy-o's got a crush.” Vortex paused to laugh
his aft off, twirling into the living room and collapsing onto the
couch as cackled still. “The big grump is finally chasing some tail
again! HA HA HA HA! I wonder what kind of wrinkled, wheelchair-bound,
desert valve bot he's going to bring home.”
Lost in his own joke, the lynx broke
down into unstoppable giggles, draping a servo over his visor as he
threw his helm back with cruel glee. Ignoring him, Blast Off turned
to the slightly perplexed Brawl, patting his brother's helm quickly.
“Dad is not sick,” he clarified for the other kittycon. “Put
your worries to rest.”
Walking into the living room, the
siamese grabbed his book and left again, to go find himself a quiet
place to continue reading undisturbed. Brawl stood where he had been
left, glancing at Vortex still laughing ridiculously, before turning
his gaze to Blast Off's retreating form. “O....kay.....,” he
mumbled, still not understanding anything going on.
Title: Savior
Rating: M
Summary: His heat cycle comes at the
most unexpected time
Skydive knew he was in trouble the
moment fourth period rolled around. Like liquid mercury, the heat
spread through his frame, fanning from his nether regions and causing
an itching burn to flare from various spots of his body. His intakes
came in shorter bursts, though he fought to keep them as even as
possible and his vision kept going in and out of focus every time the
heat spiked. Its incessant itch was now a pounding buzzing that
pulsed on the inside of his helm the longer he denied himself relief.
His heat cycle.
What could have possibly brought this
on, the shih tzu wondered in puzzlement. His last heat cycle had been
well before they had moved with Silverbolt into their home, and he'd
only been influenced by some of the other orphans they'd been forced
to room with at the time. He hadn't been bothered by the natural
phenomenon since. So caught up in his thoughts was he, that Skydive
didn't realize class had finally finished until the students were
already getting up and flowing towards the exits.
Frazzled, the blue mech threw his
things into his bag, rushing out the door and to the nearest
washroom. He could feel lubricants gathering and slicking the inside
of his valve, and though he couldn't smell it very well himself, he
knew very soon he'd be emitting an enticing, pheromone-rich scent.
And the last thing the autodog really needed was to draw unwanted
attention to himself.
“Just get to the washroom.....,” he
muttered to himself, increasing his pace as heat flashed through him,
almost drawing a moan from his vocalizer, “G-get to the
washroom....... t-then you c-can wad s-some tissue up t-there a-and
that'll block the s-scent long enough f-for you to get
h-home.....Oomph!”
Trying to turn the corner too quickly,
Skydive ran smack dab into something, wobbling backwards and rubbing
his stinging face. “Well now....,” husked a jeering voice, “What
do we have here?”
Optics onlining with fright, the shih
tzu realized he'd run straight into another large autodog. With
friends. Opening his mouth to apologize, the blue mech felt his words
crumble as he caught the mechs sniff the air deeply, their optics
flaring in surprise and glee. “Looks like the bookworm's in heat,”
the leader, the one Skydive had run into, growled lustfully, his
servo snapping forwards and grabbing the smaller 'bot before he could
flee. “What do you guys' think? Should we help him with his lil'
problem?”
A round of laughter.
“N-no, listen, y-you can't-,”
Skydive tried to reason as he was pulled back to the group. “Stop!
I d-don't.... Help! HE-”
The other autodog slapped his big servo
over the shih tzu's mouth, wrapping him in a cage of his arms as he
nodded to his friends. “Come on. We'll take this one to the
basement and have some fun before the school closes for the day.”
They grinned maliciously, some even licking their chops lewdly. He
was lifted up in the air and slung under the brute's arm. Screaming
into the servo covering his mouth, Skydive bucked and kicked wildly
to no avail, tears pooling in his optics in terror at what they'd
just discussed.
“Primus,” his captor chuckled
darkly, as they turned down an empty hallway, “You're making quite
a mess of yourself, aren't ya? Eager to get filled up, whore? Bet ya
are. Mmm..... you smell so good.”
The shih tzu whimpered, giving one last
squirm before resigning himself to his fate. He could feel his pants
getting damper, his lubricants flooding in his valve and slowly
seeping through the plating, soaking the material. It was what was
driving his assailants into such a frenzy, eliciting a few, quick
gropes to his aft as he was carried farther away from people and to
the basement that they had mentioned earlier. Face burning with
shame, Skydive let his helm drop in the autodog's hold, tears
streaming down his cheekplates silently.
“And where do you think you're all
going?,” a voice suddenly snarled.
Skydive tried to lift his helm and look
to see who'd spoken, but his captor twisted sharply as well, swinging
his captive carelessly. Some of the autodogs stiffened, and one even
threatened the mech that had intervened. A sharp yip followed the
idiot's words, and there was several growls and curses before the
group started to disperse. The shih tzu was thrown to the floor as
his captor decided to bolt as well, each of them yelling after the
other as they disappeared around corners and through doorways.
Stifling a sob over his aching frame, Skydive tried to push himself
up shakily and was frightened when he felt a servo gently grasp his
own.
“O-onslaught?!,” the blue mech
gasped as he snapped his helm toward his rescuer, finding his older
friend staring back at him.
The kittycon didn't say anything at
first, his optics narrowed and his lip components pressed into a
worried line. “Come on,” he whispered softly as he pulled Skydive
to his pedes, watching as the autodog hissed, trying to avoid putting
weight on his left ankle, “Let me get you back to my place. We'll
get you cleaned up before you have to go home.”
Skydive opened his mouth to decline,
but realized what a mess he was, and felt sick to his fuel tanks when
he also noted that he couldn't go home like this. It would invoke too
many questions. Already, his dear friend had seen him in such a
shameful state and that hurt bad enough on its own.
Onslaught said nothing as the shih tzu
covered his face with his servos, slipping off his coat and draping
it around the smaller mech's shoulders. The sleeves were practically
dragging on the floor and the body itself seemed to swallow Skydive
whole, but it securely covered the autodog and helped to smother some
of the teasing scent he was currently exuding. Smiling as
comfortingly as he could when Skydive lifted his helm, staring up at
the kittycon with shock and awe, Onslaught gently pushed against his
companion's backstruts, leading them to the nearest exit and to his
car out in the parking lot.
Title: War Room
Rating: M
Summary: Onslaught tries to help
Skydive after his near predicament
“Come sit in here,” the kittycon
said, unlocking a door and ushering his guest inside, “We'll get
you calmed down again then we can worry about everything else
afterwards.”
Skydive shyly stepped into the room,
his servos clasping Onslaught's coat about his frame still, trying
not to look up as much as possible. He still felt sick with shame and
he wasn't sure if he was going to burst into tears at any moment or
not. Of course though, the autodog couldn't help the little gasp he
gave as he took a glance at the room, finding much more than just an
office. On the left wall were two bookcases, filled with thick and
thin tomes, some of which Skydive automatically recognized and others
that he didn't, yet all were military-related. A black filing cabinet
sat between the two of them, the locks on its face gleaming through
the light of the shuttered blinds.
Two more filing cabinets sat behind the
desk on the right wall, a metre long picture frame hanging above
them, filled with various badges. Across the room from them, taking
up the entire floor space from one window to the next, was a glass
showcase. Locked away behind its panes lay war-worn weapons, sashes,
flags, indistinguishable bits of shrapnel and metal, and even an
honest-to-primus soldier's helmet.
“W-what.... what is this place?,”
the shih tzu gasped as he looked around in awe.
Onslaught smiled as he shut the door
behind them, crossing his arms behind his back. It was good to see
the blue mech do something more than nod and shake. “I like to call
it my War room. It's really just my office with some mementos and the
like though,” he answered, shrugging slightly with indifference. “I
usually keep it locked so my careless sons can't come inside. They
have no respect for such historical items.”
The mention of sons surprised Skydive.
But of course, he chastised himself quickly, it was silly to think
that the kittycon who was so smart and handsome would not take a wife
or something of the like at any point in time. The shih tzu didn't
understand why such a thought hurt so much though....
“Would you care to take a look?,”
the serval asked, holding out a servo towards the showcase.
Any other thoughts that the autodog
might have had then vanished as he was filled with almost
uncontrollable rapture. “M-may I?,” he tittered back in
disbelief, turning amazed and excited optics to Onslaught.
The kittycon choked back his purr
before it could slip out. Primus, Skydive looked absolutely adorable
with his optics glowing like that and with a child-like smile pulling
at his lip components. With Onslaught's coat still draped around his
tinier frame and the delectable, musky scent of his heat cycle
faintly seeping through, he was positively ravishing.
“Of course,” the green mech quickly
replied, stepping forward and first approaching the showcase. He
pulled out his ring of keys again, picking a smaller one this time
and unlocking the tops of the case, just as Skydive padded up behind
him. “Go ahead,” Onslaught invited as he saw the shih tzu stare
down into the case, “You can take them out and examine them.
They're in good shape.”
Smiling beautifully at such an
opportunity, the autodog let go of the coat with one servo, reaching
inside and letting his fingers merely stroke over the items within.
Just as his friend had said, everything was in great shape, even
despite the nicks and scratches deep in the metal or the stains in
the fabric. “H-how did you ever manage to g-get these in such
wonderful condition?,” Skydive asked, his shy servos reaching for
the helmet last and gently lifting it out of the case.
“Well, they're all mine.”
“Y-yours?!,” the shih tzu gaped,
his helm snapping towards Onslaught. Trying to ignore the slight
burning he could feel in his cheekplates, the kittycon reached
forward, taking the helmet from Skydive.
“Yes,” he answered, tone soft with
a touch of nostalgia. “I was a soldier in the last war. Almost
worked my way to General too before our surrender.” Onslaught
slowly twisted his helmet about, feeling at the tears and dings in
the metal, before lifting it up and setting it on his helm. It felt
almost strange putting it on again; the brim came to the tops of his
optics, just like it had when he was a young mech, bringing back old
memories. “Most 'bots under-estimate the significance of the little
things. The war shaped me, but this helmet saved my life more times
than I'd care to count. When the fighting was over, I kept my
personal effects to-”
The kittycon trailed off as his
olfactory sensors were assaulted by a rich, succulent scent. Fangs
baring slightly at the tantalizing smell, Onslaught stiffly turned to
face Skydive, finding the autodog looking up at him with glazed-over
optics; lip components parted and his cheekplates flushed. The serval
growled lowly as he saw his jacket was still covering the shih tzu,
meaning that his heat cycle had spiked, driving the delicious scent
out stronger from the coat's folds. Onslaught tightened his fist. If
he didn't remain in control, he'd.....
His growl made Skydive tremble, the
slender fingers losing grip of the jacket, gravity yanking the
material from the younger mech's frame. The full perfume of his heat
cycle slammed into the serval then.
With a snarl, the kittycon grabbed his
companion, picking him up and slamming him onto the desk, scattering
all its items to the floor below. Not wasting even an astrosecond,
the green mech fell onto the autodog, his mouth attacking Skydive's
neck hungrily while his servos pulled the other's clothes off
quickly. “A-aaah! Yes! Y-yes, please!,” the shih tzu whimpered in
the serval's grasp, dazedly grabbing at Onslaught's shoulders, trying
to tug the mech upwards for a kiss while his frame ground needfully
into the kittycon. Somewhere along the way, he lost his shirt as
well, and the belt for his pants had been ripped off, leaving the
slacks hanging loosely about his hips.
Onslaught growled with lust, smashing
his lip components with the smaller, sweeter ones, his glossa
plunging inside as the other's mouth was opened to him; tasting and
ravishing the area, before pulling back and trailing down the exposed
throat. “P-primus.....,” he hissed, pushing aside the fabric of
Skydive's shirt and lapping hungrily at the heating chestplates
beneath him, making sure to dip his wet glossa into every seam and
nip at every corner that met his mouth. The kittycon shivered
excitedly as he felt his partner buck, gasping and moaning wantonly.
That maddening scent grew ten times
stronger, calling like a siren song, fanning the flames of his lust.
Suckling for one last klik on the shih tzu's cockpit, Onslaught
dipped lower until he reached the source of heaven itself and laved
teasingly at the panel oozing lubricant through the seams. Skydive
practically sobbed at the taunt, his plating snapping back instantly,
spike pressurizing straight into the serval's face, lubricant
bubbling and splattering to the desk below. Insistent servos yanked
harshly at his ears, trying to force his face down, but Onslaught
held firm, his optics wide and in wonder of the pink seal covering
Skydive's valve.
He was untouched......
And he could have had his virginity
taken and his valve torn up by that group of young, hot-headed pups.
Remembering those mechs touching the shih tzu, talking about the
things they were going to do to him, filled the kittycon with jealous
rage, driving his rationality away again. Onslaught's fingers curled
tightly around Skydive's thighs, pulling his legs wide open as the
green mech shoved his face in between them, lapping and pressing
eagerly at the valve's seal- his, a voice snarled triumphantly
in his helm. He had defeated a pathetic enemy and had won claim over
this beautiful 'bot in exchange.
“Mine,” he growled, sliding back up
Skydive's frame and kissing the shih tzu roughly while he fingered
and toyed with the seal, trying to wear it down, “All mine.... Your
intelligence..... Your armory..... Your secret reserves.....
MINE.....”
The autodog yipped into their kiss as
his weak seal finally snapped, allowing Onslaught's fingers to plunge
into his dripping valve. “Y-yes! YES! Aah, ahh, ahh, aaaah,”
Skydive writhed, helm thrown back and rocking quickly into the
kittycon's digits. He screamed as Onslaught crooked them, twisting
his wrist and striking hard against several sensor nodes, causing the
smaller mech to break down into disjointed begs and moans. “O-oh,
o-oh.... pl-please.... m-more! YES! Primus, no, I-i.... ye-yes.....
yes, aah! D-don't..... G-general! General, PL-PLEASE!!”
The serval felt the last of his
restraint snap, ripping his fingers out of the wet valve and
unsheathing his own spike. Pushing the shih tzu flat to the desk with
one servo, he used his other to hold one of Skydive's legs in the air
as he aligned himself with the clenching passage. With a purr,
Onslaught thrust forward, his hips snapping tight against the other's
aft; optical sensors rolling into the back of his helm momentarily as
he groaned in the bliss of hot, wet cables wrapped snugly around his
thick spike, and clenching tighter still. Moving his servo so that it
was no longer pinning Skydive's to the desk but instead pressing him
tight against the kittycon's chestplates, Onslaught, with his other
servo, grabbed the edge of the desk behind the autodog's helm and
used it as an anchor as he broke out into a succession of fast and
powerful thrusts.
Panting, getting even more and more
breathless with every astrosecond, Skydive clung to the green mech
desperately, pleading and crying in rapture as he was pounded into.
The serval felt himself losing control long before he saw the shih
tzu overload -tears in his unfocused optics and a hoarse scream of
his General's name ripped from his vocalizer- and finished hard
within his spent partner, shortly after he felt the blistering
lubricant splash out from their conjoined frames and onto his pelvic
plating.
Struggling to catch his intakes,
Onslaught pressed both palms flat to the desk top, staring into the
beautiful, glazed optics looking back up at him; watching as they
slowly shuttered close, Skydive slipping off into unconsciousness as
the kittycon gently withdrew.
The serval carefully coaxed the
autodog's own plating into covering his intimate components again,
glancing down at his own dirty spike and plating. Silently, Onslaught
put himself away, zipping up his pants again, noting that they too
were stained with their recent activities.
He was torn between satisfaction and
horror.
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