#sharkticons

• Rumbling as you chirp worriedly, he carefully tosses the translator in among your soft coverings and eases down to his knees before you. Staying mass displaced at all times had been frustrating at first, leaving them all feeling vulnerable, but they’d all started doing it. Trying to stay available in case you decided you wanted one of them. And he’s been listening to you, learning your language from you and from the hunter. Wanting to say the words without the translator when you finally took him to your berth, except you never had. Hadn’t realized you were too shy even though he should have. That you needed him to approach you even though it goes against what he knows.

• Big hands cup your hips as he looks up at you. “Aaaah,” he growls, frowning seriously. “Aaaah luvvv ha-yooo.” And your mouth opens and closes, realizing those are words. That he’s speaking your language. Badly, but he’s trying for you. Just to tell you that he loves you and your resolve wavers staring down into his worshipful optics. It’s only sex, possibly bad sex, but you’ve had bad sex before. Reaching, you cup his cheek and his optics shutter, face nuzzling against your palm. Inhaling slowly before you can chicken out, you undo the sash on your robe and let it fall and the rumbling, aggressive noise he makes has goosebumps lifting along your arms. The backs of your knees hitting the berth as he palms your hips. No warning, just his mouth on you with a hungry snarl, the sharp points of his altmode’s denta brushing you as his lips and glossa move against you and you realize there’s several of your Sharkticons crowding in the doorway watching. Like this needs witnessing.

• Mouth sliding against you as he tastes you, his spike stirs behind his plating. Eager to claim you and be claimed. And those noises you make, prey noises, string him tight. Gasping and whimpering as your hips buck and you squirm. Groaning against your slick flesh when you cry out, he grinds against the side of your berth before releasing his spikes to pressurize and rumbling.

• Thighs trembling as you catch your breath, he straightens and you feel the hard length of him nudge you, and neck craning, you stare at both of his spikes as your mind blanks. Because there’s two stacked one over the other and neither is exactly small, even if the heads are tapered, there are ridges running along the underside as his biolights pulse and you desperately want your translator. Feeling him lining up the bottom spike, and the burn of him stretching you as he grunts that he ‘luvvvs ha-yooo,’ again, the underside of that top spike rubs against you and you realize those little ridges are amazingly semi-rigid as they grind against you. Gasping, your hips buck at the feeling, trying to figure out why you’d been worried about this.

• You’re so tight, so slick as his hips pump against you. And your head falls back against the berth, as you make your maddening prey noises for him. Keeps grunting those words for you with every drive of his hips and you’re chirping urgently. Writhing under him as you tremble and gasp and he groans when you tighten on him with a breathy cry, fisting his spike until he’s snarling, hips jerking when he overloads hard inside you and on your skin. Claiming you as his as he shudders and pressing his mouth against your shoulder, his denta grip you gently in a marking bite before releasing you and slipping free. Waiting for your eyes to open before pressing his fist against his chassis over his spark. “I claim you as you claim me,” he growls, reluctantly moving for one of his brothers to make their own claim. To pledge themselves to you.

• Slightly dazed from the best sex of your life, you’d felt those soft ridges rubbing inside you, against you with every drive and you blink as another one releases his spike and shifts to cover you. His spike stretching you as you try to remember this guy’s name. Hear him growling in their language at you as your head turns, seeing the line queueing up, realizing your coronation is apparently a community event. That you’re expected to claim them all as yours, making you wonder what they’d do if you refused one of them. And the Sharkticon on top of you croons at you in their awful, snarling language, groaning as he begins thrusting and you squirm, toes curling while you arch.