in where whirl has an oral fixation, written for my sweet summer child anima-blue

he watches.

he’s always watching, single optic trailed unrepentantly on
your mouth, yellow flickering when you part your lips and take in a
breath before ducking back down and grazing the sensitive wiring of his
pelvic joint with your teeth. The helicopter makes a low, needy sound,
air rushing out of his vents and tickling your skin. you respond by
biting down harder, swirling your tongue against the warm coppery metal
and brushing your bottom lip teasingly against the curve of his thigh –
You don’t mind the staring when you’re doing this for him, curled up on
the floor of his quarters, nestled between his legs and putting that
mouth of yours he loves to look at so much to good use. you trail kisses
along his pale blue paint, smiling to yourself when the red on your
lips smears and stains his joints, and you look up at him just as you
press your fingertips against your lips – you don’t find it particularly
seductive, but you’ve learned that it drives the ex-wrecker absolutely mad when you touch your mouth, when you bite down and swallow and drag your tongue against your teeth.you
beckon him closer with a wave of your hand, curling your fingers in a
come hither motion and nodding in approval when he slides down onto his
hands – his claws, and his knees, dragging himself closer to your
smaller body. he raises his hand and presses the flat of his claw
against your cheek, and you turn your head just so until you’re able to
trail brief, fleeting kisses against the trembling metal. he’s watching,
and he’s barely moving, but that’s fine, this isn’t about you – it’s
about him, and making sure he gets to watch as much as he wants. you
trail the edge of your tongue against the sharp curve of the autobot’s
claw, slow and deliberate in your movements, and you peer up at him from
under half drooped lids and smile languidly, taking the tip into your
mouth, between your teeth. you don’t fail to catch the hiss that escapes
him, or the way his shoulders droop and his wing kibble flex up and
outwards when you coil your tongue around the edge of his claw, nipping
and sucking and making a show out of pulling away from him to trail
another round of kisses against the juncture of his pinchers.“f-fuck – ”eloquent
as always, wasn’t he? you pull yourself closer to him still, your knees
bumping against the edge of his wrist mounted turbines when you shift
your weight and scoot over to perch precariously (and a little
uncomfortably, but that was okay, you could handle a little
inconvenience if it meant making whirl happy) on the swivel of his
wrist, and this time you don’t have to motion for him to move. he
settles you down on the generous swell of his cockpit, and you can’t
help but flash your teeth and lick your lips when you drag your fingers
against the smooth tempered glass (his optic flashes, and you’re amazed
all over again with how expressive he can be despite not having an
actual face). he’s watching you (of course he is), and even with his
frame and armor and living metal between you two, you swear you can feel
the heat of his spark thrumming under your hands – or maybe, his frame
was just that hot. you lean forward, arching your back and
raising your backside until you could kiss the glass of his chassis,
eyes shuttering close as you press kiss after kiss after more
kisses on every inch of his chest you could reach, faint red and lip
shaped imprints marring him. he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care,
too wrapped up with watching you, and under his unblinking gaze you move
over until you can reach out and take hold of one of his turrets.you
slide your hand along the length of the barrel, pausing to neatly
rearrange yourself into a better position (while taking care not to
block his view) so you can replace wandering fingers with your mouth.
you swirl your tongue around the edge of the barrel, sliding it inside
and sucking noisily, and the small, wet noises you’re making are drowned
out by the sudden rush of his internal fans kicking into full gear. you
purr into your ministrations, nipping metal with your teeth and arching
into his touch when he starts petting you, rubbing the blunt of his
claw against the back of your head (encouragement?). “keep – yeah, keep
doing that, but – ” he pauses, and he shivers, static dripping out of
his vocalizers loud enough to make you wince. he catches himself,
rubbing at the back of his head, “yeah, but look here. look at me.”
his request is predictable but no less endearing to you, and you offer
him a small smile, carefully making your way over to his face and
reaching up to place your hands against the base of his pedipalps. you
look up at him for a second before you turn your attentions back to his
mandibles, pressing your lips against the base and working your way up
to the tip, kissing the blunt edge once over before taking it into your
mouth.the ex-wrecker whines, a long and high pitched sound that
sets your teeth on edge, and you smile against him suck, trailing your
tongue along the slight grooves of his pedipalps and biting down hard
enough to chip paint. he was watching you – he was always watching you, and that was just fine.


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