Fic - Lines
Title: Lines
Continuity: G1, season 3
Rating: R
Content advice: nonconsensual molestation (due to Cyclonus being unconscious - if he was conscious, it would all be perfectly consensual), mention of BDSM
Characters: Galvatron/Cyclonus
Summary: Cyclonus is in recharge, and Galvatron just can't help himself.
Notes: Written forcaia_comica to the prompt 'Whip', during the tf_g1_season3 comment fic and art challenge.
Sometimes, Galvatron lay awake and looked at Cyclonus.
His second in recharge was a wholly different prospect to his second awake. There was no edge of caution to his vocalisations. No small corner of his CPU isolated from everything, and dedicated purely and simply to keeping them both alive.
There was just Cyclonus: open, trusting, and completely and utterly his.
Sometimes, Galvatron did more than look.
His hands travelled well-worn paths across his second’s armour, and his fingers tingled with the soporific buzz of Cyclonus' muted energy field. His lips sparked against naked metal, a web of slender lines in silver-grey, a delicate network eaten away by the caustic bite of the electrowhip.
Galvatron's glossa stung as he followed them, tasting scorched paint and burnt-out sensors. His denta ached when he couldn't resist biting - not gently - on the edge of a wing.
Purple gave way to silver here too, and Galvatron's fingers twitched.
Unconscious, Cyclonus murmured and stretched. It was pleasing that he was so receptive, but it wasn’t enough. Galvatron's connectors sparked in their housing, his ports ached.
Unable to wait the extra joor for Cyclonus' recharge cycle to end, Galvatron slid a hand between his second’s thighs and wrapped his mouth around the tip of an antenna.
Cyclonus stirred as Galvatron squeezed, the moment of waking revealed in the hopeful harsh flare of his energy field.
Cyclonus’ optics blazed. He smiled, his interface covers drawing back. "My lord."
Continuity: G1, season 3
Rating: R
Content advice: nonconsensual molestation (due to Cyclonus being unconscious - if he was conscious, it would all be perfectly consensual), mention of BDSM
Characters: Galvatron/Cyclonus
Summary: Cyclonus is in recharge, and Galvatron just can't help himself.
Notes: Written forcaia_comica to the prompt 'Whip', during the tf_g1_season3 comment fic and art challenge.
Sometimes, Galvatron lay awake and looked at Cyclonus.
His second in recharge was a wholly different prospect to his second awake. There was no edge of caution to his vocalisations. No small corner of his CPU isolated from everything, and dedicated purely and simply to keeping them both alive.
There was just Cyclonus: open, trusting, and completely and utterly his.
Sometimes, Galvatron did more than look.
His hands travelled well-worn paths across his second’s armour, and his fingers tingled with the soporific buzz of Cyclonus' muted energy field. His lips sparked against naked metal, a web of slender lines in silver-grey, a delicate network eaten away by the caustic bite of the electrowhip.
Galvatron's glossa stung as he followed them, tasting scorched paint and burnt-out sensors. His denta ached when he couldn't resist biting - not gently - on the edge of a wing.
Purple gave way to silver here too, and Galvatron's fingers twitched.
Unconscious, Cyclonus murmured and stretched. It was pleasing that he was so receptive, but it wasn’t enough. Galvatron's connectors sparked in their housing, his ports ached.
Unable to wait the extra joor for Cyclonus' recharge cycle to end, Galvatron slid a hand between his second’s thighs and wrapped his mouth around the tip of an antenna.
Cyclonus stirred as Galvatron squeezed, the moment of waking revealed in the hopeful harsh flare of his energy field.
Cyclonus’ optics blazed. He smiled, his interface covers drawing back. "My lord."