#017 - Confused
There were many other more appropriate feelings that I wanted for this drabble. Some of them were not on the list and some I've already used. I had to make due with what I had -___-;
Confused
It was disconcerting, how quiet Waspinator always was. Given his propensity to chatter mindlessly -to himself, to any one nearby, to any one who would listen- the silence was something that skewed reality; left Inferno wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with him.
In the beginning, the silence had been something of a relief; Inferno tired of listening to his buzzing nonsense; the half-formed words and incoherent syllables were an affront to his own eloquence. But the more it occurred…The more troubling it became.
It didn’t matter which body he was in, the weak, breakable organic one or his natural body. The result of any sort of interfacing or sexual contact was still the same: Waspinator’s voice shut down almost entirely, as if he hadn’t a vocal processor. As if he was incapable of speech.
Inferno didn’t understand. It made no sense, because Waspinator rarely stifled himself; rarely stopped his buzzing and whining. If anything, he tended to talk more when he was pleased or excited, as he often was on the occasion that Inferno let go of his tightly reined self-control.
But instead of following his usual behavior patterns…
It could be explained away, when they were in their original forms. The white hot electricity was enough to shut down systems or override processor commands. Waspinator didn’t have very good control of himself and it was simple enough to speculate that his vocal processor simply failed him at the point of overload.
No, it was the fact that this happened when they were human as well that left Inferno feeling unnerved and uncomfortable. Waspinator had learned fast what Inferno’s human body liked and though he was shy about testing the things he’d read about in those trashy books, he never disappointed. Except for the extreme concentration, the furrowed brows and look of solemnity that crossed his face. That was not what Inferno wanted to see; he wanted his partner to burn with the same fire that threatened to consume him; to revel in its blazing glory.
But no…Waspinator instead looked more grave and serious than he ever did; ruining the moment and more often than not leaving Inferno surly and confused.
It was much worse when they were organic, because Waspinator’s human face was far more expressive than his robotic one. He could ignore it during interfacing, but not when they were doing what the humans referred to -he sneered at the term- as “making love.”
The first time they found themselves human after their bonding, it finally became too much. The silence was maddening; Inferno couldn’t stand it any more. He was sick of his partner’s gravity during supposed pleasure; sick of never getting a response out of the smaller man. And so he had cornered Waspinator in the office, determined to this time get a vocal response.
Waspinator didn’t protest at being handled roughly; Inferno was far from gentle. He knew his partner enjoyed this more primal, instinctual love play, and though both agreed that it was best in bed, things sometimes occurred in less than usual places when the mood struck Inferno.
But when Inferno’s voice, rough and tight, broke through the haze of pleasure with “I want to hear you,” Waspinator tensed beneath his fingers, silent refusal singing between them before the ant even finished issuing the demand. Inferno was not to be deterred; his fingers tightened and stilled; he could feel how maddening it was for Waspinator, so close, yet so far from satisfaction.
“Talk.” He demanded again, leaning in close enough that his breath tickled across Waspinator’s cheek. “You never silence your vocal processor. Why. Won’t. You. Talk.” On the last word, he squeezed again; this time receiving a half-buzz, half-whimper of “pleazzze” in response, edged with panic and…shame.
The feelings hit him like a semi truck; terrible, powerful and oh-so-wrong. Inferno took a step back, releasing his partner; a sudden unknown burning feeling that had nothing to do with pleasure washing over him. What had he done and what was this horrible feeling?
He would later learn that his companion was ashamed of himself; that his silence was fueled by self-consciousness and worry that his silly speech patterns would ruin things. Waspinator wanted things to be good and perfect, the blond human would explain, and knew that Inferno hated how much he talked. So he tried his best, because he thought it would make Inferno happier, and if the ant was stupid enough to ridicule him for it, well, then he might find himself on the wrong end of one of Chloe’s roses.
Inferno didn’t apologize. He wouldn’t; because he didn’t feel he had anything to apologize for.
But he did stop telling Waspinator to shut up, and hoped that that would put an end to that nagging feeling that he had done something wrong.
Confused
It was disconcerting, how quiet Waspinator always was. Given his propensity to chatter mindlessly -to himself, to any one nearby, to any one who would listen- the silence was something that skewed reality; left Inferno wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with him.
In the beginning, the silence had been something of a relief; Inferno tired of listening to his buzzing nonsense; the half-formed words and incoherent syllables were an affront to his own eloquence. But the more it occurred…The more troubling it became.
It didn’t matter which body he was in, the weak, breakable organic one or his natural body. The result of any sort of interfacing or sexual contact was still the same: Waspinator’s voice shut down almost entirely, as if he hadn’t a vocal processor. As if he was incapable of speech.
Inferno didn’t understand. It made no sense, because Waspinator rarely stifled himself; rarely stopped his buzzing and whining. If anything, he tended to talk more when he was pleased or excited, as he often was on the occasion that Inferno let go of his tightly reined self-control.
But instead of following his usual behavior patterns…
It could be explained away, when they were in their original forms. The white hot electricity was enough to shut down systems or override processor commands. Waspinator didn’t have very good control of himself and it was simple enough to speculate that his vocal processor simply failed him at the point of overload.
No, it was the fact that this happened when they were human as well that left Inferno feeling unnerved and uncomfortable. Waspinator had learned fast what Inferno’s human body liked and though he was shy about testing the things he’d read about in those trashy books, he never disappointed. Except for the extreme concentration, the furrowed brows and look of solemnity that crossed his face. That was not what Inferno wanted to see; he wanted his partner to burn with the same fire that threatened to consume him; to revel in its blazing glory.
But no…Waspinator instead looked more grave and serious than he ever did; ruining the moment and more often than not leaving Inferno surly and confused.
It was much worse when they were organic, because Waspinator’s human face was far more expressive than his robotic one. He could ignore it during interfacing, but not when they were doing what the humans referred to -he sneered at the term- as “making love.”
The first time they found themselves human after their bonding, it finally became too much. The silence was maddening; Inferno couldn’t stand it any more. He was sick of his partner’s gravity during supposed pleasure; sick of never getting a response out of the smaller man. And so he had cornered Waspinator in the office, determined to this time get a vocal response.
Waspinator didn’t protest at being handled roughly; Inferno was far from gentle. He knew his partner enjoyed this more primal, instinctual love play, and though both agreed that it was best in bed, things sometimes occurred in less than usual places when the mood struck Inferno.
But when Inferno’s voice, rough and tight, broke through the haze of pleasure with “I want to hear you,” Waspinator tensed beneath his fingers, silent refusal singing between them before the ant even finished issuing the demand. Inferno was not to be deterred; his fingers tightened and stilled; he could feel how maddening it was for Waspinator, so close, yet so far from satisfaction.
“Talk.” He demanded again, leaning in close enough that his breath tickled across Waspinator’s cheek. “You never silence your vocal processor. Why. Won’t. You. Talk.” On the last word, he squeezed again; this time receiving a half-buzz, half-whimper of “pleazzze” in response, edged with panic and…shame.
The feelings hit him like a semi truck; terrible, powerful and oh-so-wrong. Inferno took a step back, releasing his partner; a sudden unknown burning feeling that had nothing to do with pleasure washing over him. What had he done and what was this horrible feeling?
He would later learn that his companion was ashamed of himself; that his silence was fueled by self-consciousness and worry that his silly speech patterns would ruin things. Waspinator wanted things to be good and perfect, the blond human would explain, and knew that Inferno hated how much he talked. So he tried his best, because he thought it would make Inferno happier, and if the ant was stupid enough to ridicule him for it, well, then he might find himself on the wrong end of one of Chloe’s roses.
Inferno didn’t apologize. He wouldn’t; because he didn’t feel he had anything to apologize for.
But he did stop telling Waspinator to shut up, and hoped that that would put an end to that nagging feeling that he had done something wrong.