The Seeker Leans Back A Little, Watching The Little Ornament Suddenly Get Up And Onto The Table. Daringly,

...Dreadwing immediately feels bad, because Rung looks uncomfortable. He wants to apologize and soothe his friend, but the old mech is already explaining.

... Ah.

Slag.

It's about sparklings. New life. Elegy is the first of her sort that he has come across -- in Dreadwing's world, younglings come about from the planet itself in hotspots, and are physically fully developed. But this is not how everyone does things.

"...Rung," he sighs softly, sinking down to his knees to sit and be better at his dear friend's level.

"I never... I never meant to upset you," Dreadwing asserts lowly. "I do not see you in such vulgar ways, and I am so sorry that I am ... I am so uneducated in the biomechanical physiology of this world."

"You are more than any of those things. You are a creator, yes, but you are more importantly a mech, friend to so many, mate and lover. You are Rung. You are you. You are priceless."

He whuffles. "I have no problem making you these items. All you must do is tell me the specifics. Size, weight, material. If it will help you, I will gladly do so."

Right. Right, then, this isn’t working. Rung’s antenna flatten back against his helm as he lets go of Dreadwing’s servo and reaches up to fiddle with his oculars. He ends up unclipping them to pinch at the thin bridge of his olfactory sensor out of habit as he tries to figure out how to explain.

Quintessa guide him.

“Elegy,” he tries. “I made part of Elegy inside of me. My forge makes photonic crystals, which are the core components of a lasercore, or in modern terms, a spark. I make sparks. Like a manufacturing plant, or the Well. I spent a very long time doing nothing but making sparks, and I am trying very, very hard to prove that I am more than just— a medical curiosity or a production line or an Ornament—”

Realizing his voice had started to fray out into static, Rung clears his vocoder with a polite little click and ducks his helm. “Please forgive me for being agitated about this, Dreadwing. I don’t need to see a medic. I know what the problem is, I am just…”

Anonymously (or not) send sexual fantasies your muse has had about mine 💣🧡💦

Someone come give him a blowjob.

Anonymously (or not) send sexual fantasies your muse has had about mine 💣🧡💦

Dreadwing smiles and steals another kiss, making sure to roll his hips forward in order to put pressure on Ghostspire's panel.

"Good," he thrums and reluctantly straightens up. "To berth, then?"

He arched eagerly into his touch, sighing happily with a chitter. Servos stroking down his arm before stretching out under him with a low purr.

"You don't have to be rough, dearspark, a drilling is just fine." Shifting his legs to spread them nice and wide for him.

Primus, he wants to get laid.

There is something intoxicating about watching someone one adores (and someone who is simultaneously so drop-dead gorgeous he can't stand it) slide down onto their knees. Kiss-nibbling their trail downward is simply an added bonus.

The Seeker sucks in a vent and lets it out slowly, but he doesn't have the restraint to be coy. His pelvic armor clicks and retracts, spike pressurizing out of it's sheath, stiff and eager.

"All of my pieces belong to you, my sweet. Every last inch..."

" Why I'd be absolutely thrilled if you did love. Now~" She nibbles him, starting to follow the path of her servo with her mouth. Sinking to her knees as she nips, kissed and teases at the seams of his armor.

Nuzzling over his hip with little bites," Open up dearspark. I very much want a piece of you." Optics glimmering with desire.

I can’t let motherfuckers know I got desires or they’ll think I suck

Send Smash or Pass + a name and my muse will say if they would smash or pass on that person.

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