In a way, the gag helped making the kiss not quite as intimate as what it usually was like, and definitely didn't allow Optimus the chance to employ his considerable skill to distract and... if he was honest... swoon him like that.
Megatron didn't care how good Optimus was at kissing, that was just embarrassing.
Chuckling as Optimus bucked into his hand, he squeezed more firmly, thumb tracing out along the ridges before sliding his fist up and down in time with the increasing pace of his hips, even if he paused every now and then to make a slow, languid roll of his hips or two before diving back in again.
Both literally and metaphorically.
He couldn't really believe how well Optimus' fit around his spike, how absolutely dizzingly exact each twitch and constricting press as Optimus did what he could to get more was. It shouldn't be possible. His vents picked up a bit, and red optics narrowed while Megatron leaned more heavily forward, resting one hand on the edge of the pit to support himself.
If he wasn't actually dumping charge elsewhere, Megatron knew he'd be pretty helplessly gone right now. The friction and charge even so much as twitching brought up was overwhelming, pleasure dancing down his circuits...
But he was dumping it elsewhere, and with that, the pleasure was simply a sharpened edge on the blade of his determination. This time he rolled his hips while sliding out at the same time, allowing a brief burst of charge to be redirected to slam it into Optimus' sensors as he rolled his fingers over and around Optimus' spike and then gave another squeeze.
He ached to let all his pent-up charge flood back to the circuitry around his spark chamber and his spike, but he was not. This wasn't about him, and if he lost control here from his own pleasure, the point would be moot.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2012-12-19 12:18 am (UTC)Megatron didn't care how good Optimus was at kissing, that was just embarrassing.
Chuckling as Optimus bucked into his hand, he squeezed more firmly, thumb tracing out along the ridges before sliding his fist up and down in time with the increasing pace of his hips, even if he paused every now and then to make a slow, languid roll of his hips or two before diving back in again.
Both literally and metaphorically.
He couldn't really believe how well Optimus' fit around his spike, how absolutely dizzingly exact each twitch and constricting press as Optimus did what he could to get more was. It shouldn't be possible. His vents picked up a bit, and red optics narrowed while Megatron leaned more heavily forward, resting one hand on the edge of the pit to support himself.
If he wasn't actually dumping charge elsewhere, Megatron knew he'd be pretty helplessly gone right now. The friction and charge even so much as twitching brought up was overwhelming, pleasure dancing down his circuits...
But he was dumping it elsewhere, and with that, the pleasure was simply a sharpened edge on the blade of his determination. This time he rolled his hips while sliding out at the same time, allowing a brief burst of charge to be redirected to slam it into Optimus' sensors as he rolled his fingers over and around Optimus' spike and then gave another squeeze.
He ached to let all his pent-up charge flood back to the circuitry around his spark chamber and his spike, but he was not. This wasn't about him, and if he lost control here from his own pleasure, the point would be moot.