ADD Attacks
It was slow at work. I was on camera duty, toyin' around an' looking through some o' my favorite fics I have saved on my laptop...k, I was really spinnin' 'round in th' new work chairs we got an' thinkin' of what I could do to finish out "Optics Welded Shut". I swear, ya can get AT LEAST FIVE revolutions easy outta those things! N E Wayy... It dawned on me. The fic won't let me write anymore on it 'cause it's totally incomplete on chappie 2! I thought of a scene to add t' it when I realized, if I rewrite part of the second part, I gotta remake th' third, too. Oh, I'll keep the substance of it all, but there'll be a slight remodeling of it. Gotta flesh it out an' make it explain itself.
So I get t' work an' start writin' on that second chapter's scene...an' ended up goin' ADD an' comin' up with this.
Title: Transmitting
Rating: T, at least. There's a mech touchin' himself, an' I give this a T rating 'cause almost all teens know what that is, right?
Pairings: One-sided Sunstreaker x Sideswipe
Author's Note: Just a short scene I had t' get outta my head.
Warnings: 'sides what' I've already said? Nothin'.
Sunstreaker's vocalizer had been shut off a long time ago, the yellow twin determined not to disrupt this by being too loud. One golden hand delved into an open port while the other clasped around the adjacently attached cable, sliding slowly but firmly along the length. He let his head fall back and rest upon the berth as he reached the tip, squeezing it just hard enough to make him almost buck into his own hands. With his vocalizer silent, the only sounds to reach his audios were the light whimpers and inadvertent moans from his twin.
Sideswipe was dreaming again. And transmitting. The feedback was intense enough to sent pure arousal licking at his interfacing hardware. If he wanted to, Sunstreaker knew he could probe the bond to find out exactly who Sideswipe was dreaming about, just who was making his brother writhe and heat up like that in his sleep. Doing so would only ruin his own fantasy. For now, he could pretend that it was him. If he looked, reality would come crashing down and he'd know. It wouldn't be his sensors being teased nor his headlights being licked. It would be Bluestreak's, or Jazz's, or, Primus... Sideswipe had once remarked of a vague interest in Ratchet. He liked Ratchet well enough, but not enough to dive into his brother's dreams to find...
That process of thought was mercifully shut off as information bombarded his sensory network, spiraling from the Spark out. He adjusted the position of his legs as the ghost of something - he could swear that had been a glossa - trailed along the insides of his thighs. Sideswipe whimpered and did the same. He'd always enjoyed watching others squirm when he did that, not that anyone had ever returned the favor. Sunstreaker removed the hand from his port and traced after the ghost trail. Non-existent lips came back to press against his. The phantom glossa caressed the soft space where the top and bottom components met.
So close... Sunstreaker opened up his chest plates and began to manipulate the wiring closest to his Spark chamber. Electricity crackled around his digits as he reached overload. It traveled across their semi-open bond to Sideswipe, who bore his own pleasured grimace as he reached his peak. It was the closest to the real thing the golden mech could give him.
The sight of the red and black mech gripping the berth and groaning nearly renewed Sunstreaker's arousal. Almost. He withdrew from the connection, offlining his optics and audios in the process. The pleasure, while relieving the stress, always felt empty. Every time he did this, he swore he'd never do it again.
Sunstreaker's offline audios couldn't pick up the soft words half moaned, half muttered, nearly hidden by the hiss of cooling bodies, "Sunny..."
So, how do I end up writin' SunnyxSides when I'm thinkin' 'bout ProwlxJazz? Dunno... It'll probably be a stand-alone. It inspired somethin' else I'm plannin' on workin' on, though. I hate inspiration. Y'know, writer's block is like a condom. Ya have it when ya don't need it, ya need it when ya don't have it, an' it only breaks 1% o' the time
So I get t' work an' start writin' on that second chapter's scene...an' ended up goin' ADD an' comin' up with this.
Title: Transmitting
Rating: T, at least. There's a mech touchin' himself, an' I give this a T rating 'cause almost all teens know what that is, right?
Pairings: One-sided Sunstreaker x Sideswipe
Author's Note: Just a short scene I had t' get outta my head.
Warnings: 'sides what' I've already said? Nothin'.
Sunstreaker's vocalizer had been shut off a long time ago, the yellow twin determined not to disrupt this by being too loud. One golden hand delved into an open port while the other clasped around the adjacently attached cable, sliding slowly but firmly along the length. He let his head fall back and rest upon the berth as he reached the tip, squeezing it just hard enough to make him almost buck into his own hands. With his vocalizer silent, the only sounds to reach his audios were the light whimpers and inadvertent moans from his twin.
Sideswipe was dreaming again. And transmitting. The feedback was intense enough to sent pure arousal licking at his interfacing hardware. If he wanted to, Sunstreaker knew he could probe the bond to find out exactly who Sideswipe was dreaming about, just who was making his brother writhe and heat up like that in his sleep. Doing so would only ruin his own fantasy. For now, he could pretend that it was him. If he looked, reality would come crashing down and he'd know. It wouldn't be his sensors being teased nor his headlights being licked. It would be Bluestreak's, or Jazz's, or, Primus... Sideswipe had once remarked of a vague interest in Ratchet. He liked Ratchet well enough, but not enough to dive into his brother's dreams to find...
That process of thought was mercifully shut off as information bombarded his sensory network, spiraling from the Spark out. He adjusted the position of his legs as the ghost of something - he could swear that had been a glossa - trailed along the insides of his thighs. Sideswipe whimpered and did the same. He'd always enjoyed watching others squirm when he did that, not that anyone had ever returned the favor. Sunstreaker removed the hand from his port and traced after the ghost trail. Non-existent lips came back to press against his. The phantom glossa caressed the soft space where the top and bottom components met.
So close... Sunstreaker opened up his chest plates and began to manipulate the wiring closest to his Spark chamber. Electricity crackled around his digits as he reached overload. It traveled across their semi-open bond to Sideswipe, who bore his own pleasured grimace as he reached his peak. It was the closest to the real thing the golden mech could give him.
The sight of the red and black mech gripping the berth and groaning nearly renewed Sunstreaker's arousal. Almost. He withdrew from the connection, offlining his optics and audios in the process. The pleasure, while relieving the stress, always felt empty. Every time he did this, he swore he'd never do it again.
Sunstreaker's offline audios couldn't pick up the soft words half moaned, half muttered, nearly hidden by the hiss of cooling bodies, "Sunny..."
So, how do I end up writin' SunnyxSides when I'm thinkin' 'bout ProwlxJazz? Dunno... It'll probably be a stand-alone. It inspired somethin' else I'm plannin' on workin' on, though. I hate inspiration. Y'know, writer's block is like a condom. Ya have it when ya don't need it, ya need it when ya don't have it, an' it only breaks 1% o' the time