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Overlord jerked at the restraints around his arms and legs, testing their limits. Trepan had done a thorough job; he was always good at following through on promises, and while Overlord could break free if he put his mind to it, the restraints left him at the mercy of the lithe mech currently crawling into his lap. Trepan was a small thing- it was part of the thrill during their usual games, knowing that he had to watch himself, ride that edge of being in control lest he lose Trepan and all the knowledge he still had to teach. Being put at his mercy for a change certainly had his attention.
“And just what we are we up to?” Overlord crooned, looking down into Trepan’s sly smirk.
“That would ruin the surprise.” he purred, stretching up to put a light kiss on his lips.
The mnemosurgeon pulled back just in time to avoid the snap of Overlord’s teeth, and instead of flinching he cooed, sliding his hands up to cup his face in his hands. Overlord’s head tilted back at the slightest touch as Trepan stood on his thighs.
“Silly pet, snapping at me like that. Be good or you won’t get your treat.”
Overlord bared his sharp teeth in a smile. “I’m not sure I’m suited for being a pet.”
“I’ll teach you.” he said softly, leaning in again. Overlord didn’t bite this time, welcoming the kiss with soft strokes of his tongue. His engine rumbled quietly as Trepan sucked his lower lip into his mouth, tugging on it with his teeth.
The phase-sixer hissed as Trepan’s heel struck his interface panel, sharp vibrations rattling through his panels. His fingers curled into claws around the arm-rests of the chair as he shifted, bucking his hips up against the hard grinding. Hot, sharp pangs of arousal zinged through his hardware and up his spine.
The mnemosurgeon grabbed his chin, “If you toss me off, you won’t get anything tonight.”
Overlord settled, biting his lower lip as Trepan peeled paint with the edge of his foot. A swift kick on his panel over his valve had his eyes fluttering closed and his frame sagging forward into Trepan’s support with a grunt, his head resting against Trepan’s chest. His array was getting hotter by the second, his engine idling with intermittent hiccups.
“Open.” Trepan whispered, cradling Overlord’s head against his chest. The phase-sixer was all too eager to comply, and Trepan’s heel came to rest on the swollen lips of his dewy valve. His spike sprung up with a click, drops of pre-fluid flicking across the mnemosurgeon’s legs.
“Tsk. Look at how wet you are. I can smell the lubricant from your valve, all the way up here.”
He slid his foot down and pressed against the soft lips in slow circles, teasing wet smacking sounds from the swollen mesh. Overlord shivered, the smell and the sounds making his mouth water for more. Before he could ask, Trepan pressed the toe of his foot upwards, sliding the sensor laden hood of his over-sized nub upwards and back. The stretch burned and his node throbbed against the cold air, leaving him gasping and his valve clenching, woefully empty.
“I’ve always liked your nub. It’s so large, just like the rest of you.” Trepan murmured, holding his position with a patient grace Overlord envied. “One of these days I should to put a pump to it, see how big I can get it.”
“ Yes! ” Overlord hissed, barely distinguishable over the roar of his fans clicking on.
“Of course you’d like that.” he snorted, as if he wasn’t the one to suggest it to begin with.
Trepan’s foot continued its path upwards, tugging the mesh as far as it could go before he released it, stepping on Overlord’s spike instead. He was less gentle with it than his valve, bending it back until it laid against Overlord’s belly, grinding the head into his plating with the tip of his foot. The slit oozed fluids still, leaving wet streaks as Trepan rolled his spike back and forth. His plating flared, heat pouring out between the seams as he moaned, mouthing at the collar of Trepan’s armor. Overlord shuddered as the toe of the mnemosurgeon’s foot slid back down, roughly scraping over the underside of his spike, his engorged node, and between his plump lips until he rested at the entrance to his valve. His slicks walls clenched and throbbed, desperate for any sort of stimulation but only finding the teasing point of his foot, just barely out of grasp. Overlord’s optics fluttered closed as he panted wetly, twitching his hips towards the promise of more pleasure, groaning in frustration.
“Poor thing.” Trepan cooed, stroking his cheek and gently turning his head to face him, to look up and meet the mnemosurgeon’s steady gaze. “I bet you want to overload don’t you? You want me to make you come?”
Overlord nodded, panting, “Yes.”
Trepan hummed blandly, and began his descent from Overlord’s lap, sliding gracefully to the floor. Hot puffs of air cycled slowly through the phase-sixer’s frame, while he tried to get a handle on his burning lust and desperate need- to regain at least a little control of himself that Trepan seemed to take so easily. He watched as the mech in question settled on his knees, a hand on each of his thighs. Yellow optics inspected the state of his valve, watching small drops of lubricant and pre-transfluid slide over his plating.
The scrutiny but lack of action was maddening. “Trepan. If you’re in the mood to just watch, you may release my hands and do so.” Overlord grumbled, bucking his hips for emphasis.
“Tempting, but no. I was just thinking.”
Spurned into action at last, Overlord watched as small hands trailed along his thighs, then over his hot valve. Trepan pressed his palm over the middle, squeezing the plush mesh.
“It’s so fat.” he murmured, marveling at how soft and cushioned it felt, “And look at this!”
He flicked Overload’s bright violet nub, watching as the valve beneath it clenched. It was large enough to hold in his fingers, and with glee he reached up and did so, pinching it tight and giving it a tug. Overlord bucked and hissed, gritting his teeth against a moan.
“Stop teasing me Trepan!”
“But teasing is the name of the game.” he laughed, replacing the pinch of his fingers with his mouth. The phase-sixer bucked again, this time with a loud cry as Trepan closed his lips around his nub and sucked, flicking it with his tongue like he would the head of a spike. Overlord grit his teeth hard enough to hurt, a low whine building in this throat; he cried out instead as Trepan’s lips slid off with a soft pop, then drifted lower. That wasn’t where he wanted his mouth! But he could not make the demands form, or do more than plead with needy twitches of his frame. His companion, of course, ignored him in favor of spreading Overloard’s lips with his thumbs; then licked in a slow, wet slide from the opening of his leaking channel to the small secondary waste port just under his external nub, tonguing the small hole in soft circles. Warmth suffused his frame, hot sparks lighting up at the top of his valve and base of his spike. Anticipation and eagerness for release had him moaning, shaking with effort to keep still. He was so close, and wanted it desperately. Overlord was never very patient, and each flick and press of Trepan’s tongue drove his charge higher. Cables tensed in preparation as the hot knot of pleasure coiled tighter in his gut; his teeth ground on his bottom lip as he panted and huffed, a cry building up in his throat as he felt Trepan’s tongue actually press through the slit--
And right before his overload crested all touch was gone, leaving him with a hot ache. He writhed and the chair creaked with the force of it; as he bucked his valve fluttered and throbbed emptily, the unreleased charge like fire in his lines. Despite the lack of overload his valve flooded with lubricant, making a puddle under his aft that he rutted into in a desperate attempt to get some friction. “ Trepan!”
Overlord hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he opened them, and found Trepan watching him closely. “Beautiful.” the small mech whispered, petting his trembling thighs. “Just beautiful.”
Some of his ire abated at the praise, though it didn’t help his charge any. “Am I?”
“You know you are, don’t be a snob.” the mnemosurgeon snorted, leaning forward; not to lick his valve again as he’d been hoping, but to slurp up some of the lubricant puddle on the chair. He swallowed it as he stood, licking his lips in satisfaction. Overlord’s engines gave another rumble-- Trepan always did look good with fluids on his face.
He watched quietly as the mech in question pulled some things from his subspace; one he recognized, the other he did not. The large, blue false spike was a recurring guest, and one that made the phase-sixer lick his own lips. Trepan leaned over, humming as he spread his swollen valve to gently ease the toy into his sloppy channel. He took his time, stretching him open with it. Overlord loved the burn, and by the time the head of it was pressed snugly against the top of his valve, he was panting again. With a flick of Trepan’s finger the spike magnetized in place- no amount of shifting or overloading would get it to move. The mnemosurgeon straddled his lap for the next part; he grabbed Overlord’s spike in one hand, and slipped a black band with prongs on the edge down his length with the other. He worked it down his spike carefully, and Overlord hissed at how tight it was starting to get towards the bottom.
It was outright pinching his spike when Trepan had worked it down to the base, and with the precision only a medical professional could have, forced the prongs between his spike and the spike housing. Oh it outright hurt now- Trepan waited patiently as the larger mech writhed, hissing and drooling through his teeth. “There, there.” he cooed, leaning up so he could pepper kisses over Overlord’s face. “You’ll like this, I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” he snarled.
“You can hold me all you like after I’m done with you.”
Trepan knelt with one leg resting on each of Overlord’s thighs, and grabbed the hot, heavy spike in one of his hands. He stroked it appreciatively, thumbing the wet head as he kneaded and tugged at the deep ridges. The mysterious band around his spike ached more than hurt, now- adding more fuel to the fire that was smoldering in his array. His eyes fluttered closed as Trepan leaned down to suckle at the tip, swirling his tongue around the slit while his fingers played with the rest of it. He stayed just long enough to tease before sitting up, and Overlord watched as one mnemosurgeon needle slid elegantly from his forefinger.
“And just what are you planning to do with that?” he asked, licking his lips, though his mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“You know what I’m going to do.” Trepan hummed, as he circled the head of Overlord’s spike, trailing lightly over his slit. “I don’t need to tell you to keep still, hm?”
“Why doctor, I think this qualifies as a misuse of medical equipment.” he quipped, though it was breathy-- Trepan had started wiggling the very tip of his needle into the slit of his spike. They’d mentioned it in passing, but hadn’t gotten around to it until now. Trepan didn’t answer his teasing as his entire focus was on carefully sliding the needle deeper into the slick opening, making sure to not nick the delicate walls. Overlord held his breath, and but for the excited shaking did his best to comply, to not shift around with the uncomfortable-but-wonderful feeling of being stuffed.
Before long Trepan ran out of needle; the tip of his finger was pressed against the sensitive head of his spike, the end of it somewhere near the base of it. In fact, if he focused hard enough he thought he could feel it tickling the transfluid gate, just barely scratching the delicate silicone as Trepan wiggled his needle back and forth in slow motions. His concentration was broken as Trepan started to pull the needle out, and he strangled a cry just as he strangled his instinct to arch up, to buck into that pleasure. Trepan noticed, however, and Overlord truly did yelp this time as his spike was squeezed in a tight grip. It hurt- incredibly so- and his fingers clawed trenches in the chair as he bit his lip, optics watering.
“Tre-Trepan!” he wheezed, baring his teeth.
“I told you to stay still, didn’t I?” He throttled his spike harder, just below the end of his needle. Overlord nodded; his mouth was watering now, his valve clenching uselessly on the toy, inflamed nodes sliding over the smooth surface, unable to get more than a passing grip. He loved it, both the uncomfortable fullness and pain in his spike and the teasing slip in his valve. It was good, it was so good-
“Are you going to come for me?” Trepan asked, his voice barely above a murmur. He gently eased his grip, giving his spike a gentle stroke. “I want to see it.”
Overlord cried as he reached the peak that was denied him earlier, the rush of pleasure charged down his spine and pooled in his array, hot and heavy. He felt the transfluid building up to release, scalding in his lines-
Then nothing happened.
The hard knot of transfluid sat just behind the gate Trepan had brushed earlier, but the charge and resulting overload was just gone, leaving nothing but a taste of the pleasure behind- like he’d skipped the main event and gone right to the afterglow.
“TREPAN!” he yelled, clawing at the armrests and kicking as much as he could. Petulant, certainly, but he felt justified in that two overloads had been stolen from him.
The mnemosurgeon on question seemed unafraid of his anger, instead withdrawing the needle back into the housing of his finger. He watched with maddening glee as Overlord bucked and writhed, and his spike twitched and bounced.
“Shh, pet, shh.” he cooed when the phase-sixer finally stopped fighting. “Shh. I always take care of you, don’t I? This is just part of the game. You’re being so wonderful.”
“Game? Game? ” he snarled, snapping his teeth with half a mind to actually bite off some of Trepan’s face. “You won’t think it’s a game when I stuff my whole spike down your intake and make you swallow everything .”
“If you keep being good I’ll make sure to cry and say ‘no’.” he cooed; and though he was making a valiant show of keeping his composure, this close Overlord could feel the minute shiver of his frame, the hot air churning from his fans.
“So this is for you then?”
“Don’t be silly, this game is for both of us. You just don’t see it yet.”
Overlords mouth twisted. He never liked it when his intelligence was questioned. Trepan leaned in, stealing a soft kiss before he could really start protesting, then another when he wasn’t bitten. Small hands held the side of his face, a smaller tongue lapped at his lower lip, and Overlord relented. He deepened the kiss, his frame relaxing as his teeth were licked, his lips sucked on. Trepan drew back slowly until he was kneeling over his spike, and it was then that he noticed the thin lines of lubricant that had eked past the seams of Trepan’s plating. His spark burned with pride, to know that the small mech in his lap was not unaffected, and he watched as a hand slid up a slender thigh to cup himself. Trepan’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth fell open in a gasp as he squeezed and stroked the hot metal, smearing his fingers with lubricant. He brought his digits to his own mouth, sucking them clean as his valve panel clicked open.
“Watch me.” he whispered, as he put one hand on Overlord’s shoulder for balance, and the other steadied the spike. His valve was hot and dripping, leaving a mess in its wake as Trepan rutted this valve over the head of his spike. When Overlord was about to protest the teasing, he started lowering himself onto his spike, sinking slowly around the rounded head. With a pop it slid inside his tight valve, and both of them groaned at the sudden shift. Trepan’s legs were trembling with the effort of keeping himself up; each clench and release of his valve had him sinking down just a little more, until he was seated entirely with a loud gasp. For a long moment Trepan said nothing, simply resting his forehead on Overlord’s chest as his valve grew accustomed to the stretch.
“You always feel so good inside of me.” he panted, rocking his hips in a slow circle. “So full…”
Overlord hummed, his valve clenching on the false spike inside himself in sympathy. His vents were wheezing, pouring out excess heat as Trepan continued to rock his hips. There would be no thrusting or bouncing until the smaller mech had worked himself loose enough- not that he was complaining. Not that he could even find the words to complain at the moment. Each hot clench around his spike robbed him of thought, his senses flooded with everything Trepan . The smell of their coupling, the taste of ozone, the feel of his spike surrounded by heat and slick, the sound of their mixed pleasure; it was overwhelming and too good, and with a shout Overlord tripped into a sudden overload. His cry of pleasure turned into a howl of pain as the band around his spike did its job- clearing his charge before he could feel the release of overload, while allowing a gush of transfluid to build up behind the gate. The channel was swollen, and he was certain that if he wasn’t allowed to release soon it would burst. Trepan panted, rocking his hips and clinging to Overlord’s chest, fingers digging grooves into his paint. He didn’t stop to soothe his ire this time, and if anything seemed to rock himself harder. A small hand scratched down his front and settled over his belly, pressing down until Overlord felt the toy in his valve shift. He hissed between his teeth, the pressure making him squirm; he wanted to buck up into the hot slick valve around his spike, and away from the pressure on his tanks at the same time. His processor raced, trying to figure out Trepan’s goal- his clever little mnsemosurgeon always had a goal, and if he could only figure out what it was he could try and push this along faster.
His train of thought was interrupted by another overload-- smaller than the others, and went much the same way. He moaned, in more pain than pleasure, writhing as the pressure built up in his lines.
“Yes!” Trepan moaned, his optics fluttering closed as he moved both hands and placed them on Overlord’s lower belly, pressing down for leverage to bounce up and down on his spike. “One more, come on, just give me one more!”
Overlord had a moment of doubt-- while his spike was still hard and throbbing, the pressure was incredibly distracting, and bordering on the kind of discomfort he didn’t enjoy. His tanks- both transfluid and waste- felt like they were being squeezed to the point of bursting.
“One more.” Trepan hissed, reaching back and tugging on Overlords nub in time with his thrusts, “You are going to give me one more. ”
He couldn’t resist; his arousal licked back into a flame at the steady attention,and before long his frame complied, pooling just a little more transfluid. His HUD lit up with pressure warnings, and if he wasn’t biting his lip to keep himself steady he would have laughed at the irony.
“ Trepan .” He groaned, slouching against the back of the chair, legs shifting endlessly in a useless attempt to ease his discomfort.
The small bot in his lap moaned, and sank all the way down his spike until he was grinding his soft valve lips on Overlords plating. “You’ve been so good. So good.” Trepan praised, petting one of Overlord’s arms.
Without warning he reached down and under himself; Overlord only faintly heard the click of the band around his spike loosening before his frame clenched, the floodgates both literally and metaphorically opening without his say-so. All of the pent up charge of three overloads hit him at once and he howled as breakers tripped and fried. The armrests of the chair were crushed in his grip like sheets of cellophane. Relieved of the stoppage, his frame’s internals relaxed, releasing everything .
Overlords’ spike pumped fluid in hard jerks, as his valve squirted and clenched around the toy, his waste tanks releasing through the port near his valve and adding to the hot, unholy mess that the triple-changer was currently sitting in. With it came a relief and a relaxation that felt better than any oil bath, and he moaned, panting as aftershocks of pleasure pulsed through his frame with each gush, until he was entirely empty.
Trepan sobbed in pleasure, his own spike spitting transfluid as his overflow tanks sucked up everything he was given. There was enough to distend his plating outward, the hard swell of it pressing between their overheated frames. Overlord watched with sharp optics as Trepan rocked himself on spike his spike, reaching a small, quiet overload. His valve fluttered, squeezing, and the phase-sixer felt another swell of charge as he watched Trepan lean back, petting over the bulge of his middle, and down between his legs to where they were still connected. It was a tight enough fit between the two of them that only a little leaked out.
While Overlord was of half a mind to break free and ravish Trepan into the floor until both of them could barely move, he had enjoyed the small mech’s game, and knew that there was more to come. He just had to be patient. For now.
Lazily, the mnemosurgeon in his lap pulled himself off of his spike, standing once more on his thighs. While some of Overlord’s transfluid escaped and was trailed down his thighs, he’d managed to trap most of it behind his hastily shut valve cover.
“If you wanted me to stuff you, you could have just said so.”
“You know me better than that.” He hummed, practically purring as he took a moment to absorb the image before him of Overlord, panting and spent, sitting in a puddle of mixed fluids. It didn’t seem he was finished with him yet, however.
With surprising nimbleness, Trepan scaled his upper body until his legs were thrown over Overlord’s shoulders, his slick and hot panel resting on his chin. This close, his senses were full of nothing but the smell of their coupling, and it made his mouth water.
“Is there something you wanted?” He asked, looking up with feigned innocence. Trepan always had enjoyed applying Overlords mouth on his valve, and he’d always enjoyed doing so. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make him work for it a little.
“We both know you want this just as much as I do.” He said as he smeared his messy panels across Overlord’s lips.
He took a moment to pretend he was considering it, “Perhaps, but what do I get out of it?”
“ Overlord! ” he hissed, writhing with need. His fingers curled tightly over the edges of his helm, and he pressed himself down harder, insistent.
Whether Trepan realized it or not, he was no longer in control of the night’s festivities; but Overlord was satisfied enough with his display of desperation to open his mouth and lick over the invisible seam, then suck on the plating until it warped. He’d play along, for now.
Trepan howled . The cover slipped back with a click, and Overlord felt bare valve on his tongue before the rush of transfluid started gushing into his mouth. He gulped it down between licking at Trepans abused folds and sucking on his nub, the small mech writhing and crying out in soft staccato moans. By the time Overlord was only tasting the tangy fluid of his valve, small legs were locked around his helm, and his vision was taken up entirely by Trepan’s chest as he clung to his head for support. With a shudder the mnemosurgen overloaded around his tongue, and his rocking slowed. His whole frame was shaking, and it was a wonder he didn’t just fall off with how weak he seemed.
Overlord dared one more lick to his lips, and was pleased with the way he hissed and jerked from the touch. He always did get incredibly sensitive after a hard overload. And lazy. With laziness cam a lax awareness.
With a sudden wrenching he freed his arms, and before his small companion could scramble away, he grabbed onto his hips and held him in place against his mouth. It was easy to do, despite the flailing and expletives, easy enough that he only needed one hand to do it. While Trepan struggled and demanded to be put down, his own thighs fell further apart and the fingers of one hand found his nub, moving over it in slow circles. The moan transmitted from his mouth to Trepans valve and the smaller mech whined, his legs kicking.
“I will take out your eyes Overlord!” He snarled, the tips of his needles peeking out like claws. “Let me go !”
An empty threat, and he wasn’t concerned in the least. He slapped his valve, the toy jostling against tired but unsatisfied nodes.
“What-” He twisted to try and get a look at what the phase-sixer was doing, but was stopped short by a pair of lips sealing over his nub and sucking . Trepan shrieked and collapsed back down against his face, his voice breaking and laden with static as he started pleading. For mercy or for him to continue, Overlord wasn’t sure, but it was a beautiful background to the feeling of the toy pumping in and out of his valve. He hummed and suckled at the nub in his mouth, flicking the hard bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue when he felt like it. Trepan’s optics were leaking, and his pleading had devolved into hiccuped moans and sobs. It hurt him as much as it felt divine, but Overlord figured turnabout was fair play.
Trepan’s overload was carried by a strangled groan, his frame shuddering as his valve clenched on nothing and dribbled the last bit of lubricant and left over fluid down Overlord’s chin. He came soon after, a soft, gentle overload suffusing his frame with a cozy warmth. Gently, with more softness than anybody would ever assume him capable of, he eased Trepan off his shoulders and into the crook of one arm, where the smaller mech curled up against his chest, a trembling mess.
As Overlord stood and dropped the false spike on the seat behind him, he curled his arm a little closer, holding Trepan a little tighter. A trip to the washracks was in order, then bed, where he could watch and hold Trepan before falling into recharge himself.
A perfect end to a good evening.