If it wasnât for the stasis cuffs keeping Dirge from moving, the clone would of been squirming in the chair that he had been bound do. Not that it stopped him from trying to make any movements. Heâd managed to at least, through sheer force of desire and the agonizing heat rippling through his frame, get his talons to clench and unclench.
Dirgeâs optics were locked on the berth in front of him. They were the only thing he really was capable of moving, but he didnât want to turn them away. No matter whether the sight he saw was intended to be his real punishment or not. He wanted, no, he needed what was going on.
He desperately wanted to be in on it, but that was the whole reason why he was stasis cuffed to the chair. And the whining, near begging, he had been reduced to when cuffed, had only proceeded him to get the Cybertronian version of a muzzle slapped around his mouth.
Dirge wanted in so badly!
All he wanted was to join Swindle and Starscream on the berth. To be the one pinning his boss down and fragging that slick valve of his. To hear Swindle moan out his name, not the name of his damned template!
This punishment was too extreme for him, but he couldnât tear his optics away. Couldnât, wouldnât, turn off his audials. Dirge wanted, needed, to be involved between the two of them so desperately.
Only the faint whines that came from him were ignored. At least they appeared to be, but Dirge could of sworn that every time he made a desperate whine, Starscream would of picked up his pace to frag Swindle even harder into the berth.
There was even one time when they actually faced Dirge while Starscream took Swindle on all fours. Throwing their fragging even more into his face so he could see the looks of pleasure on their faces. The way Swindleâs optics were dimmed and fogged. The way his mouth hung agape, glossa slightly out, while heavy panted breaths vented out to keep him cool from the intensity.
Watching the two of them together wasnât even the worst!
Oh no. . . The worst came when Thrust, Thrust, his pit spawned envious brother walked into the room and was allowed right on in the middle of it all.
Dirge could only summon a ragged sounding growl that immediately turned into a pained cry. He was tortured enough! Enough! He had learned his lesson, now let his punishment end. If he wasnât able to join, at least get his painful charge off, he felt he was going to explode.
How much longer did he have to suffer?!
