Tentacle Toy

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
IDW
Perceptor/Drift and that little silicate tentacle creature
dubcon, tentacles, sticky, P utterly WP
continuing my tradition of REALLY LAME titles.  Also, a continuation of Spelunking (who knew having a 'tentacles' tag would come in handy? O_o)

“No.”  Drift shook his head as Perceptor brought over the glass tank, laying it on the floor between his ankles. 

“Yes.”  Perceptor let a rare smile flash over his face.  He let his gaze roam over Drift’s frame—the wrists bound, behind him, over the chair’s high back, legs spread, ankles lashed to the chair’s legs. Perceptor reached over, the movement slow and deliberate, to open Drift’s interface hatch. Drift tried to wiggle back in the chair as Perceptor bent, lifting the top of the tank off, and reaching in, pulling out the grayish, wriggling mass of the silicate creature.  “It misses you, Drift.”

Drift squirmed, as the thing probed blindly between his legs, the gray tentacles stroking up the dark metal of his thighs.  “That whole thing wasn’t my fault.”

Perceptor smirked. “Who said anything about fault, Drift.” 

Drift’s answer was cut off by a sharp cry as the creature discovered the valve cover.  Three tentacles waved excitedly, almost in triumph, before moving to wriggle and stroke over the equipment cover,  in flirting, velvety touches.  “Perceptor…!” he groaned, a shiver tearing through his frame. 

Perceptor stepped back to watch, as the silicate creature’s little touches left Drift gasping, his knees shaking, hands twisting in their bindings.  Drift’s optics kept jumping between the thing, squirming against him, eager to get inside, and Perceptor’s hungry gaze. 

A soft click, the valve cover opening, and another gasp, as the tentacles wormed their way inside, bulging and thinning, pushing into the dark warmth of the valve. Drift’s head dropped back, hands clutching at each other, hips writhing on the chair as the creature moved. 

Perceptor could feel arousal sheeting off Drift, waves of tingling electromagnetic charge washing off him, as the thing wormed and wriggled. He bent, pressing his mouth against Drift’s, feeling the swordsmech’s heat, the desperate way the mouth opened, the glossa seeking his. Drift’s ventilations panted against him, and he could hear the shoulder gyros spin and struggle. 

The creature’s storage crystal began to flicker and glow, the tentacles bunching and pushing.  Perceptor could nearly feel it, himself, the way the velvety limbs shifted and coiled and twisted, boneless and heavy, in the valve, squirming against Drift’s nodes, stretching him, filling him.

“Do you like it, Drift?” he whispered, mouth brushing the white mech’s. Perceptor felt his own body shiver with arousal, enflamed by Drift’s wanton moaning, the quivering struggle. Drift’s ventilations hissed between his dentae, optics locked on Perceptor’s.  “It likes you.”  The creature had always liked Drift. Something, Perceptor imagined, about the mech’s openness, the almost wanton responses Drift showed to being wanted.

Drift panted, hips jumping up, the tentacles pulsing more rapidly, sensing the rising energy, glossy and slick from Drift’s seeping lubricant. Another tentacle writhed around the rim of the valve, teasing at the entrance. 

“Why…?” Drift gasped, before his body bucked up, as the overload tore through him, the ropes which held his wrists squeaking with the strain. 

Perceptor grinned down at Drift, leaning down to stroke one hand down Drift’s thigh, then dipping down into the puddle between Drift’s legs.  He held up his slick fingers in front of Drift’s face, feeling the warm liquid drip down his fingers.  “Because of this.”

Drift growled, trying to regain control, even as the creature wriggled again, excitedly, absorbing the energy of the overload, hungry for more.  Perceptor gave a pleased hum, hooking a finger under one of the tentacles, drawing it out from the warmth of the valve. The tentacle protested, squirming and thrashing, slippery with lubricant, as the movement made Drift arch up.

Perceptor wrapped the stray tendril over the rim of Drift’s spike housing, letting his own fingers trail on the cover, tickling the metal. 

Drift gasped, bucked, his spike twitching behind its cover.  The tentacle seemed to sense the arousal, feeling the rise of charge behind the metal.  Drift cursed as his spike cover slipped aside, the tentacle immediately worming in the housing, flirting with the pressurizing spike’s tip. 

“I love watching you like this,” Perceptor whispered, his own interface equipment throbbing.  But the sight of Drift, the spreading pool of lubricant between his thighs, the sole grey tentacle wrapping and pulsing around the jutting spike, the others worming and sliding over each other in a sort of frenzy in the valve, was more than he could do for Drift, for himself. 

The creature’s crystal glowed warm and pink, feeding on Drift’s energy.  It fed on energy of all sorts—light, friction, electricity, sound—but it seemed to respond best to this: direct contact, tactile stimulation. And Drift. 

“Remember, Drift?” Perceptor purred, leaning in closer, his vocalizer teasing Drift’s audio receptor. “Remember how small it was when you brought it on board?” A grunt, arguing the ‘brought it on board’;  Drift hadn’t been entirely willing.  “It’s so much bigger now.”  Perceptor felt a quiver run through his own frame, borrowed lust, hot and urgent.

Drift gave a strangled cry, his entire body arching out of the chair, held only by the bindings, ankle and wrist.  The silicate creature clung on, the tentacle around Drift’s spike tightening as it rode the sudden movement.

Drift sagged back down to the chair, liquid seeping from his valve, optics wide and staring, as if lost in ecstasy.

“Admit that you like it, Drift,” Perceptor said, stroking a hand down the heated chassis. 

The head lolled, optics slowly focusing on Perceptor’s face. “Going to have to untie me at some point,” he murmured. 

Perceptor gave a ghost of a smile. “By then you will be too drained to do anything.”

Drift tried to glower, but the creature was moving again, writhing inside him. 

“Does it feel good?” Perceptor whispered. “Do you like the way it moves in you? Fills you?” 

Drift groaned as the thing shifted, tentacles rolling over each other, the one wrapped around his spike pulsing and squeezing.

Perceptor gave a husky laugh. “Take that as a yes, Drift.”

“Not…fair.” The words were forced through gritted dentae. 

“Not at all,” Perceptor agreed. “So enjoy it.”

“Not…much choice.” Ventilations gusted between them, the creature’s storage crystal glowing. 

“None.”

“Get you back for this.”

Perceptor snorted. “Like you got me back for last time.”  When he’d placed it in Drift’s valve, sealing it, just before a meeting.  Drift had shown remarkable self control back then, merely denting the meeting table with his squeezing hands.  Then again, it had only had one tentacle at the time.  Only Kup had figured it out, shooting Perceptor a stern, knowing look, as he thrust a handful of rags into Perceptor’s hands to wipe up the spreading puddle of Drift’s fluids. 

Drift hadn’t retaliated then, either, merely collapsing into a heavy, sated recharge.  As he would, this time, Perceptor was certain.

Drift’s retort was drowned in a howl, a spray of silver jetting from his spike, onto Perceptor’s chassis, his valve clutching down upon the wriggling tentacles in another overload. 

The silicate creature slowed, sated, crystal charged and full, withdrawing its tumescent limbs slowly, slick and slippery, limp and languorous. Perceptor lifted it up, helping uncoil one final loop from Drift’s spike. He held it up to Drift’s face, so he could see the slow, waving tentacles, dripping and wet, the crystal glowing pink-white and contented. 

Perceptor lifted the tentacles, as they waved, slowly now, like seagrass.  “Look,” he said, showing a new tentacle, barely a fingerjoint long, chubby and thick. He laughed at Drift’s embarrassed squirm, bending over to lick one of the longer tentacles, salty and glossy with Drift’s fluids.

Drift gave a shivering sigh, hands twisting in their bonds. “Get you back for this,” he managed, hoarsely.

Perceptor gave an agreeable nod, moving to clean the creature off, place it back in its tank.

And when he turned around, Drift had already fallen asleep, wrung out and exhausted, still bound to the chair.

Comments

[gunmaxual.livejournal.com]

And, thusly I continue laughing too hard to breathe.

[deedeesaurus.livejournal.com]

Delicious. I love your writings and this was no exception. Had to go back and read the first bit since I'd somehow missed it while raiding your fic list. It was also delicious :D

[acidgreenflames.livejournal.com]

This was super hot and I loved it!

haha I love Perceptor like this, all teasing to (not so) poor Drift XD

[ravynfyre.livejournal.com]

*spontaneously combusts* omfg, I love this... *beyond ability to coherently word*

[eerian_sadow]

that is a lucky, lucky little tentacle creature. <3

[kageokami666.livejournal.com]

I find it kind of ironic that I actually had gone back and reread spelunking last week (which I highly enjoy)and now I find you wrote sequel (so happy).

It would be fun seeing what drift plans as revenge.

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

now that's an impressive sex-toy. *giggling*
Though I think Kup's reaction was my fave part about this.

[femme4jack.livejournal.com]

And now I go to bed with a very silly grin that won't go away because of reading something so ridiculously hot. I think Drift is quite lucky, to tell the truth, to have someone and something taking such good care of him ;)

[ladyofdragons.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed this, and it's predecessor, way more than I think is appropriate to express in public. :3~ I'm not sure who to be envious of more...Drift, or his wiggly pet.