#tf roller

• Why are you so mad? Had been trying to play along. To let you know how good those soft hands running over him feel. That he accepts and chooses you. Wants you. And you’d gotten upset, threatening to attack him. You’re not going for the treat, either. Your human media had insisted that those treats were meant to deal with ‘hangry’ humans. Maybe you’re not hangry? Still hasn’t figured out exactly what that means, but he’d thought you’d go for the snack and stop trying to hit him. Crouching, he tries to grab the treat to hold it out. But you smack the back of his hand with the pole brush. Hard.

• Darting back when he tries to grab the pole, you tense, but he just awkwardly slides the tiny candy bar around on the concrete, his big servos rasping on the ground as he tries and fails to pick the thing up. “Would you just leave it!” You hiss, slapping at his servos with the brush end. And he looks so confused that you almost feel bad. ‘I can moan louder,’ he offers and your expression blanks. Staring at him as he stares back. “Why would-” you begin before you just shake your head. Don’t want to figure this out. Turning, you try to walk away and you startle when another candy bar pings off the back of your leg. Looking over your shoulder, he’s got another one in his grip, wiggling it at you.

• “What- What is that? What are you doing?” You demand as he tries to entice you over with the treat. Making coaxing sounds as your hands tighten on the pole brush. “I can’t with this,” you mutter, trying to get around him to escape. What’s he supposed to do now since the upset human treats aren’t working? Pulling a polishing cloth from subspace, he spreads it out between his hands and your eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare,” you growl, body tensing.

• Almost groaning when you gently push against his chassis and lean back some, those eyes are uncertain. Can scent you, your heat and need stringing him tight, making him ache to claim what’s his. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises, servos ghosting up your spine. Because that has to be why you hesitate when he can feel your own need echoing through your field. Can almost taste it with every deep pull of air through his vents. Wants to taste you.

• Flustered as your eyes drop to his chassis, his other hand hooks a servo under your chin and gently tips your face up. And it’s not that you doubt he would be, but you know he doesn’t realize you’ve never done this before. “I know,” you manage, unable to meet those gorgeous optics. ‘But?’ He prompts and your shoulders hunch. “You’d be my first,” you mumble, wilting inside. Embarrassed to admit it.

• Had thought he couldn’t be any more possessive of you than he already is, but the implication that you’ve never had another lover, that he’d be your first and, if he has his way, only? “You’re so fragging adorable right now,” he growls, mouth brushing the corner of yours. “Let me take care of you. Love you.” Let him touch you everywhere, claim you as his so thoroughly that you’ll understand this isn’t a one time thing with him. That he’s playing for keeps.

• That hand under the back of your shirt slides up higher, pushing up your shirt and you look up at him. Realizing you do want him to be your first, that despite his size, he’s only ever been gentle with you. That you love him. Inhaling slowly, you pull your shirt off over your head and his rumbling deepens to a purr. “That’s right. Show me my conjunx,” he growls, the almost aggressive edge in his voice making you heat as you grab at his chassis and pull yourself up on your knees to undo your pants and slide them down.

• Hooking an arm against your back, you suck in a startled breath when he shifts to lay you down and he helps finish stripping away your layers. Baring your mysteries to him. Do you have any idea how many times he’s dreamed of this moment? Spike nearly releasing to pressurize when you shyly whisper his name. Scooting back some, he crouches over you, mouth sliding against your body, tasting the salt on your skin.

• Trembling as his mouth and big hands slide down your body, you’d thought he’d just get to it. Fuck you. But his touch is almost worshipful as he explores you, before settling himself between your thighs and you realize what he’s intending right before his mouth is on you. Gasping his name as you arch, his lips and glossa slide against you, before his glossa pushes inside you and he growls.

• You’re so tight. Knew you would be with how small you are, but now he’s worried about keeping his word. Can you even take his spike? Has to remind himself that this is about you, not him. Groaning at the heady taste of your arousal, he sucks and laps at you. Using the sound of your breathing, the way you raggedly whimper his name to tell him what feels good to you, what you need. And he nearly overloads when you shatter, shivering with your release. “You’re doing so good,” he murmurs against your slick flesh as he brushes a servo against you. Stretches you.

• Trembling as he begins thrusting a servo inside you, your eyes open to stare up at him bent over you watching your reaction. The hunger on his face as he indulgently smiles hums through you. Foot sliding on his berth when he adds a second servo, you squirm at the faint burn. Listening to him murmuring soft praise, curling his servos inside you, thrusting lazily. And you’re aching hollowly, so close when he slips his servos free and puts them in his mouth, sucking them clean.

• Glossa sliding between his servos chasing every last drop of you, he’s aware of you staring up at him, flushed and breathing raggedly. His. “We’ll take it slow,” he murmurs, reassuring you as much as he’s reminding himself. And it’s a relief to release his aching spike to pressurize. Even if you make a worried sound when your attention dips to it. “Eyes on me,” he growls shifting over you. You’re so slick, the head of his spike slides against you to make you whimper his name. Gripping himself, he guides his spike to you and for a klik, he knows he’s too big. That maybe the tip is all you can take. “Relax for me.”

• He’s too big, his spike stretching you. Burning slightly as he bows over you and he presses a kiss against your forehead. “Look at me. Focus on my optics,” he says, his head resting against yours and you meet his optics, trying to relax as his hips lazily rock, his spike pressing and retreating, not even fully inside you. “Yeah, there’s my conjunx.” What’s that word even mean? He always just grins crookedly when you ask. Hanging onto his chassis, you move to meet him and you both gasp when you finally relax enough he sinks into you. Stretching you until you feel overly full with him. Eyes burning at the discomfort, he brushes another kiss against the corner of an eye. Whispering reassurances to you that he’s got you.

• He’s not going to last. Not when you’re all slick, silken heat fisting his spike. Shuddering as his jaw clenches, he finds a slow rhythm, entire frame straining against the urge to just rut inside you. “That’s it. Nice and slow,” he groans, hips rolling. Wanting it to last. For you to come for him again, but you feel so good. Better than he’d even imagined. And he’s growling your name as he overloads hard, knotting inside you almost immediately like an inexperienced youngling. Swearing softly, he rests his head against yours. “Give me a klik and I’ll do better,” he promises as those soft hands hang onto him. Holding him to you.

Me: I’ve never been to this Disney and it’s really not that far away. *checks Uber* … you know what, I’m broke and I like the hotel. The hotel is just fine 🤣