YOU ARE ABOUT TO MAKE A MISTAKE.
who ; Skyfire [Narrative]
what ; Awkward masturbation. Gluing himself to... himself.
where ; Skyfire's lab.
when ; Day after Christmas.
warning(s); LMAO WELL.
The model planes were actually a very nice thought. He'd send Eric a thank you note later, but tonight, with all the snow gone, he feels he should celebrate a bit and put them together. Carefully laying out all the pieces on the desk and meticulously gluing them together with epoxy.
Each little piece is extremely detailed, and he marvels quietly at the accuracy. An F-15 Tomcat, half-completed. He opens the tiny doors to the bomb bay to place in the tiny details.
It's quiet tonight. Nobody around to bother him.
He presses in another small grate and waits for the epoxy to dry.
It's really nice and quiet. The details are coming along nicely. It reminds him of looking at some of the seekers back home. He'd been in a relationship with one other aside from Starscream way back when, before they had met. He had been feisty, too. But in a fun way, an easygoing way. He'd definitely made interface fun, though. His smallish hands could reach spots Skyfire barely knew existed.
These models are really quite detailed. He leans back to examine his work so far. Very accurate. Running a finger along the colored plastic. He could almost imagine it being cybertronian alloy.
So detailed. And accurate.
It's. Very quiet. And he's very alone. And the whole ordeal with Soundwave comes to mind- how heated that had been. He wants that again. He wants that and Shockwave and Altman. Since when did he get so greedy? Perhaps he's making up for lost time.
So then why is he here alone right now? His fingers find the zipper of his slacks and loosen it slightly as he presses the heel of his palm down between his legs.
Soundwave is probably busy. He won't be watching. It couldn't hurt.
His hand works the fabric slowly, firmly and he leans his head back, eyes fixed on the small model plane. Eventually, he pushes his pants down part way along with his boxer shorts, taking himself in hand and stroking slowly, evenly.
It's been a while and he's been so stressed. He deserves this, he tells himself.
Just a little bit, he can indulge in humanity's pleasures.
He groans quietly to himself, but when he looks back, one of the wings is falling off the tiny plastic jet. Slowly oozing off with the not-so-dry epoxy. Quickly, he catches it, pressing it back into place, fumbling as it knocks off another small piece. It wasn't as dry as he'd thought. After a great amount of awkward fixing, it's mostly back in one piece. He sighs, and goes to finish his business.
Right- where was he? Soundwave, Shockwave and Michael all telling him how strong and brave he was. How talented a scientist-
His hand meets a bit more resistance than usual, but he's busy thinking about how nice it would be if-
And then it stops all together.
Oh no.
He tries to pull it away, but it's stuck.
His hand.
Is stuck to his genitals. With the epoxy he hadn't noticed on his fingers.
Oh.
Nuts and bolts. Frick and frack. He panics, standing abruptly and upsetting the chair, he nearly falls and braces himself against the wall. And then-
Then he can't move at all. Because his other hand is stuck to the wall.
Frag. He can't move without ripping the skin off. He looks desperately for a solution and only finds one. Carefully, he bumps his wearable against the table.
what ; Awkward masturbation. Gluing himself to... himself.
where ; Skyfire's lab.
when ; Day after Christmas.
warning(s); LMAO WELL.
The model planes were actually a very nice thought. He'd send Eric a thank you note later, but tonight, with all the snow gone, he feels he should celebrate a bit and put them together. Carefully laying out all the pieces on the desk and meticulously gluing them together with epoxy.
Each little piece is extremely detailed, and he marvels quietly at the accuracy. An F-15 Tomcat, half-completed. He opens the tiny doors to the bomb bay to place in the tiny details.
It's quiet tonight. Nobody around to bother him.
He presses in another small grate and waits for the epoxy to dry.
It's really nice and quiet. The details are coming along nicely. It reminds him of looking at some of the seekers back home. He'd been in a relationship with one other aside from Starscream way back when, before they had met. He had been feisty, too. But in a fun way, an easygoing way. He'd definitely made interface fun, though. His smallish hands could reach spots Skyfire barely knew existed.
These models are really quite detailed. He leans back to examine his work so far. Very accurate. Running a finger along the colored plastic. He could almost imagine it being cybertronian alloy.
So detailed. And accurate.
It's. Very quiet. And he's very alone. And the whole ordeal with Soundwave comes to mind- how heated that had been. He wants that again. He wants that and Shockwave and Altman. Since when did he get so greedy? Perhaps he's making up for lost time.
So then why is he here alone right now? His fingers find the zipper of his slacks and loosen it slightly as he presses the heel of his palm down between his legs.
Soundwave is probably busy. He won't be watching. It couldn't hurt.
His hand works the fabric slowly, firmly and he leans his head back, eyes fixed on the small model plane. Eventually, he pushes his pants down part way along with his boxer shorts, taking himself in hand and stroking slowly, evenly.
It's been a while and he's been so stressed. He deserves this, he tells himself.
Just a little bit, he can indulge in humanity's pleasures.
He groans quietly to himself, but when he looks back, one of the wings is falling off the tiny plastic jet. Slowly oozing off with the not-so-dry epoxy. Quickly, he catches it, pressing it back into place, fumbling as it knocks off another small piece. It wasn't as dry as he'd thought. After a great amount of awkward fixing, it's mostly back in one piece. He sighs, and goes to finish his business.
Right- where was he? Soundwave, Shockwave and Michael all telling him how strong and brave he was. How talented a scientist-
His hand meets a bit more resistance than usual, but he's busy thinking about how nice it would be if-
And then it stops all together.
Oh no.
He tries to pull it away, but it's stuck.
His hand.
Is stuck to his genitals. With the epoxy he hadn't noticed on his fingers.
Oh.
Nuts and bolts. Frick and frack. He panics, standing abruptly and upsetting the chair, he nearly falls and braces himself against the wall. And then-
Then he can't move at all. Because his other hand is stuck to the wall.
Frag. He can't move without ripping the skin off. He looks desperately for a solution and only finds one. Carefully, he bumps his wearable against the table.