INTRO | NO EVENT | APHRO
Woozy. Headache. What the slag?
Slipstream groaned, cracking open her eyes to see that she was in an entirely different room than the one she'd fallen asleep in. Strange, that. She blinked sleepily at the ceiling, then tried to roll over, only to find that she couldn't.
The realization snapped her mind into full alertness. She growled and tried to sit up, hampered by the ropes binding her wrists that trailed off from the sides of the round bed. There was a mound of pillows- if she could just squirm her way somewhat upright against them..yes. It was then that she noticed the lack of clothing.
And just how good a slight breeze felt over her bare skin, sending a delicious shiver through her entire body.
Slag. Slagslagslag. Her howl of rage was probably heard several floors away, a mix of wordless screaming and Cybertronian curses vulgar enough to make a Megatron blush.
Chest heaving with arousal, anger, and maybe a teeny bit of panic (read: more than a bit), she glared at the door, red eyes flaring as she willed it to stay closed.
Frag her luck.
[ooc: This is one angry femme clone of Starscream who is aphro'd enough to want it but not enough to refrain from fighting. She kicks and bites. Cybertronians welcome, and really, any men welcome at this time. Just don't be surprised if she punches the heck out of said men the next time she meets them. Please no torture or bathroom activities, but feel free to ask if you've got nifty ideas!]
Slipstream groaned, cracking open her eyes to see that she was in an entirely different room than the one she'd fallen asleep in. Strange, that. She blinked sleepily at the ceiling, then tried to roll over, only to find that she couldn't.
The realization snapped her mind into full alertness. She growled and tried to sit up, hampered by the ropes binding her wrists that trailed off from the sides of the round bed. There was a mound of pillows- if she could just squirm her way somewhat upright against them..yes. It was then that she noticed the lack of clothing.
And just how good a slight breeze felt over her bare skin, sending a delicious shiver through her entire body.
Slag. Slagslagslag. Her howl of rage was probably heard several floors away, a mix of wordless screaming and Cybertronian curses vulgar enough to make a Megatron blush.
Chest heaving with arousal, anger, and maybe a teeny bit of panic (read: more than a bit), she glared at the door, red eyes flaring as she willed it to stay closed.
Frag her luck.
[ooc: This is one angry femme clone of Starscream who is aphro'd enough to want it but not enough to refrain from fighting. She kicks and bites. Cybertronians welcome, and really, any men welcome at this time. Just don't be surprised if she punches the heck out of said men the next time she meets them. Please no torture or bathroom activities, but feel free to ask if you've got nifty ideas!]