#bottom feeder

• Venting raggedly, you’re staring up at him and he has no idea what to say now as one of your thumbs brushes his bottom lip, your eyes dark with arousal. It’s almost uncomfortably vulnerable and his wings flick slightly, wanting to lift aggressively. To distance himself, because this is deviant. Can only hurt him. Be used against him. But feeling your soft fingers tracing the lines of his face, he wants a moment of soft. Where there’s no ulterior motives to worry about, no looming threat. “I am relaxed,” he mutters as your hands slide to ghost over the mesh of his neck and make his spike twitch inside you.

• You’re not sure he can relax, always tense, but you resist the urge to argue with him. Thigh sliding against his hip, you feel his plating barely scratch you. A reminder that he’s dangerous and that’s what makes him so fascinating. So fun. Willingly playing with fire even though you know you’re going to get burned. That this is nothing more than sex and once he’s bored of you? No longer interested in parading you around like his prized purse dog? Your life expectancy probably drops to zero.

• When he overthrows Megatron, takes control and gets the Decepticon cause back on track, maybe he’ll keep you. Just needs to break you from a few bad habits. Like laughing at him. And the nudity, though right now, that seems like an asset. Was this just a one time thing for you? Were you curious and just wanted to say you’d been with a Cybertronian? A seeker? Was he an experience or something more? Isn’t sure how he feels about it. About you. Hips rolling, you arch with a breathy moan. This at least is easier to understand. No messy, confusing emotions, just you and him. Your body wrapped around his.

• Toes curling as his wings flare, he pushes back onto his knees, clawed servos flexing as he drags your lower body up into his lap with him. And his spike is still fully pressurized inside you, pulsing like a heartbeat as he lazily moves against you, the angle making your toes curl. “You’re mine. Only mine,” he snarls as you tremble, body ramping back up. “Say it,” he snarls and your shoulders and the back of your head slide against the berth, lips parting. Because that’s an amazing angle. ‘Whatever you say, Screamer,’ you groan hearing his affronted snarl and smiling. Really just can’t help yourself. Joking and teasing your love language.