Mayfic! Rev
May. 8th, 2011 07:31 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
niyazi-a.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
shadow_vectorNC-17
IDW,Halcyon AU
Perceptor/Wing
sticky, mild dom/sub
Perceptor pushed forward, driving Wing’s body against the wall, shoulder nacelles angled upward toward the hands he had pinned far over the jet’s head. His spike surged against its housing at Wing’s hot whimper, the white helm turning, trying to meet his gaze.
“Wings,” Perceptor said, his voice soft, but with a note of command. He felt the jetframe quiver against him, then the slide of metal over his chassis, the wings extending slowly, almost shyly, as if Wing did not understand how beautiful his wings were. Which was…patently ridiculous. Everything about Wing was beautiful. And even more arousing to Perceptor, everything about Wing was…his. The jet held nothing back from him, opening himself to Perceptor’s desire. It made Perceptor fiercely protective of the smaller mech, and fiercely aroused—a growl bubbling from his chassis, which he buried in the back of the jet’s neck, over the long struts of the wings.
Warm air gusted between them, a nervous, aroused sigh from the jet. “Yes?” Wing whispered.
Perceptor leaned more of his weight against the jet, feeling the wing panels sleek and satiny beneath him. “Yes,” he growled. He squeezed his hands over the wrists, rubbing his helm against the jet’s upraised arms. Wing craved touch, and nothing fired up that desire more than being touched without being able to reciprocate.
He ground his hips against the jet’s white pelvic frame, tormenting his own still-housed spike, feeling the jet quiver against him, hearing the soft, surrendering click of the valve cover. “Want something, Wing?” he murmured.
“Yes,” Wing whispered, his hips twisting against Perceptor’s in open invitation. “Please?”
“Polite.” He slid his mouth up the wide ornate shape of Wing’s audial flare, his glossa flicking into the seam. Wing’s shivering surrender was exquisite, something he had never had before. “Later.”
Wing whimpered, riding the edge of desire, squirming, sliding his wings over Perceptor’s blocky chassis. One leg kicked up, feebly, sliding down Perceptor’s lower leg, delicate toe plate probing into Perceptor’s treads.
Perceptor gave a soft laugh. There was something intoxicating about the purity of Wing’s desire, and of being the target…? He leaned forward his broad chassis splaying over the wide span of the wings. He fired on the powerful tank engines, the vibrations roaring through the room, against the sensitive wingplates.
Wing’s body arched up, a gasping cry tearing from his chassis, helm flung back against Perceptor’s shoulder, the wings crackling with overload, charge dancing like blue fire over the panels, licking at Perceptor’s frame, into the seams in his own frame. Perceptor felt a wet trickle down his thigh. He slid his leg up, the top of his thigh bumping against the edge of the valve, still dripping hot lubricant. He laughed against the jet’s audio, not from malice but a strange, fierce joy, that he, that something he could do, could drive the jet to such an extreme response.
Wing melted back against him, turning his head, mouth brushing vaguely against Perceptor’s cheek.
Perceptor felt a smile curve over his mouth, bunching the cheek under Wing's yearning kiss. His hand tightened over the jet's wrists, sliding over the wings again with his torso, letting his engines sit at their rumbling idle.
“Do you want to touch me, Wing?” Perceptor whispered, dropping each word like a little tweak or pinch over the jet's audio. Wing whimpered, squirming against Perceptor. “And what would you touch? Tell me.”
“I...I...,” Wing faltered, optics gold and wide. “Shoulders,” he murmured. “And the seams of the chassis under the arms. And...and the frame of the chest plate, and the pelvic frame and the contour seams down the thighs and....,” he rocked against Perceptor, enthralled, taken by the idea.
Perceptor's engines revved, involuntarily this time, feeling the ghosts of touches along his armor.
“Please?” Wing whispered, the note of longing sliding over Perceptor's sensornet like velvet, warm, wanting, stroking over him in ways that made him feel...incandescent. “I want to touch.”
Perceptor pushed in again, bumping Wing's body hard against the wall in front of him, releasing his grip on the narrow black wrists, raking his hands down the jet's arms, sides, moving to wrap around the cut of the waist. The wings folded down into their strutwork, Wing's body sagging back against him, knees shaking, unstable. He held the jet against him, delaying the moment, feeling Wing's anticipation, his hands lowering, unsteady, resting on Perceptor's teal forearms.
Perceptor tilted back, letting Wing's helm loll back against his shoulder, his mouth searching for the jet's yielding mouth, tasting Wing's breath, his cool desire. “You want me, Wing?” His mismatched optics bored into the gold ones, the warmth of their receptor bulbs carrying its own kind of caress. He wanted Wing to say it, felt a sharp thrill that someone, anyone, much less anyone like Wing, would want him. And Wing felt a matching quiver, admitting, optics open, mouthplates moving against Perceptor's as he spoke, as if feeding him the word. “Yes.”
IDW,Halcyon AU
Perceptor/Wing
sticky, mild dom/sub
Perceptor pushed forward, driving Wing’s body against the wall, shoulder nacelles angled upward toward the hands he had pinned far over the jet’s head. His spike surged against its housing at Wing’s hot whimper, the white helm turning, trying to meet his gaze.
“Wings,” Perceptor said, his voice soft, but with a note of command. He felt the jetframe quiver against him, then the slide of metal over his chassis, the wings extending slowly, almost shyly, as if Wing did not understand how beautiful his wings were. Which was…patently ridiculous. Everything about Wing was beautiful. And even more arousing to Perceptor, everything about Wing was…his. The jet held nothing back from him, opening himself to Perceptor’s desire. It made Perceptor fiercely protective of the smaller mech, and fiercely aroused—a growl bubbling from his chassis, which he buried in the back of the jet’s neck, over the long struts of the wings.
Warm air gusted between them, a nervous, aroused sigh from the jet. “Yes?” Wing whispered.
Perceptor leaned more of his weight against the jet, feeling the wing panels sleek and satiny beneath him. “Yes,” he growled. He squeezed his hands over the wrists, rubbing his helm against the jet’s upraised arms. Wing craved touch, and nothing fired up that desire more than being touched without being able to reciprocate.
He ground his hips against the jet’s white pelvic frame, tormenting his own still-housed spike, feeling the jet quiver against him, hearing the soft, surrendering click of the valve cover. “Want something, Wing?” he murmured.
“Yes,” Wing whispered, his hips twisting against Perceptor’s in open invitation. “Please?”
“Polite.” He slid his mouth up the wide ornate shape of Wing’s audial flare, his glossa flicking into the seam. Wing’s shivering surrender was exquisite, something he had never had before. “Later.”
Wing whimpered, riding the edge of desire, squirming, sliding his wings over Perceptor’s blocky chassis. One leg kicked up, feebly, sliding down Perceptor’s lower leg, delicate toe plate probing into Perceptor’s treads.
Perceptor gave a soft laugh. There was something intoxicating about the purity of Wing’s desire, and of being the target…? He leaned forward his broad chassis splaying over the wide span of the wings. He fired on the powerful tank engines, the vibrations roaring through the room, against the sensitive wingplates.
Wing’s body arched up, a gasping cry tearing from his chassis, helm flung back against Perceptor’s shoulder, the wings crackling with overload, charge dancing like blue fire over the panels, licking at Perceptor’s frame, into the seams in his own frame. Perceptor felt a wet trickle down his thigh. He slid his leg up, the top of his thigh bumping against the edge of the valve, still dripping hot lubricant. He laughed against the jet’s audio, not from malice but a strange, fierce joy, that he, that something he could do, could drive the jet to such an extreme response.
Wing melted back against him, turning his head, mouth brushing vaguely against Perceptor’s cheek.
Perceptor felt a smile curve over his mouth, bunching the cheek under Wing's yearning kiss. His hand tightened over the jet's wrists, sliding over the wings again with his torso, letting his engines sit at their rumbling idle.
“Do you want to touch me, Wing?” Perceptor whispered, dropping each word like a little tweak or pinch over the jet's audio. Wing whimpered, squirming against Perceptor. “And what would you touch? Tell me.”
“I...I...,” Wing faltered, optics gold and wide. “Shoulders,” he murmured. “And the seams of the chassis under the arms. And...and the frame of the chest plate, and the pelvic frame and the contour seams down the thighs and....,” he rocked against Perceptor, enthralled, taken by the idea.
Perceptor's engines revved, involuntarily this time, feeling the ghosts of touches along his armor.
“Please?” Wing whispered, the note of longing sliding over Perceptor's sensornet like velvet, warm, wanting, stroking over him in ways that made him feel...incandescent. “I want to touch.”
Perceptor pushed in again, bumping Wing's body hard against the wall in front of him, releasing his grip on the narrow black wrists, raking his hands down the jet's arms, sides, moving to wrap around the cut of the waist. The wings folded down into their strutwork, Wing's body sagging back against him, knees shaking, unstable. He held the jet against him, delaying the moment, feeling Wing's anticipation, his hands lowering, unsteady, resting on Perceptor's teal forearms.
Perceptor tilted back, letting Wing's helm loll back against his shoulder, his mouth searching for the jet's yielding mouth, tasting Wing's breath, his cool desire. “You want me, Wing?” His mismatched optics bored into the gold ones, the warmth of their receptor bulbs carrying its own kind of caress. He wanted Wing to say it, felt a sharp thrill that someone, anyone, much less anyone like Wing, would want him. And Wing felt a matching quiver, admitting, optics open, mouthplates moving against Perceptor's as he spoke, as if feeding him the word. “Yes.”
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Date: 2011-05-08 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 02:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 02:49 pm (UTC)Lol it's a derpy fanon term anyway, right? I just find anything that limits how many sexual partners one can have (pair, trine etc) to be really limiting.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 05:36 pm (UTC)Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-10 07:59 am (UTC)