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[SG] Defragment
Feb. 1st, 2021 07:24 amTitle: Defragment
Universe: Shattered Glass, sequel to Firewall
Series: Renovation
Characters: Drift/Ratchet
Rated: NC-17
Enticements: Consensual Gore, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Consensual Dismembering, Fisting, Double Penetration
Description: After encountering a former friend on a mission, Drift returns feeling a little off. Fortunately, Ratchet knows just the thing to remind him where he belongs.
The raucous interior of the Ark-One’s main dock was a welcome noise to Drift as he stepped off his single-mech shuttle and stepped back onto the metal floor of home. The feeling reverberated up through his feet, his legs, his hips, his torso, all the way into his spark.
He drew in a heavy, savoring vent, a tiny little anxieties melting away as the atmosphere of the Autobot ship wrapped around him. He was back, he was home, and most importantly, he had Ratchet within reach once again.
What more could a mech want?
Drift ignored the whistles and catcalls of the dockworkers as he passed. They weren’t important. They weren’t Ratchet. His spark sang with comfort, pulsing the song of his medic, drawing him toward the medbay. Drift shedded discomfort behind him, a bit like the dried energon flaking off his frame.
Assassination was a messy business.
( Read more... )
Universe: Shattered Glass, sequel to Firewall
Series: Renovation
Characters: Drift/Ratchet
Rated: NC-17
Enticements: Consensual Gore, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Consensual Dismembering, Fisting, Double Penetration
Description: After encountering a former friend on a mission, Drift returns feeling a little off. Fortunately, Ratchet knows just the thing to remind him where he belongs.
The raucous interior of the Ark-One’s main dock was a welcome noise to Drift as he stepped off his single-mech shuttle and stepped back onto the metal floor of home. The feeling reverberated up through his feet, his legs, his hips, his torso, all the way into his spark.
He drew in a heavy, savoring vent, a tiny little anxieties melting away as the atmosphere of the Autobot ship wrapped around him. He was back, he was home, and most importantly, he had Ratchet within reach once again.
What more could a mech want?
Drift ignored the whistles and catcalls of the dockworkers as he passed. They weren’t important. They weren’t Ratchet. His spark sang with comfort, pulsing the song of his medic, drawing him toward the medbay. Drift shedded discomfort behind him, a bit like the dried energon flaking off his frame.
Assassination was a messy business.
( Read more... )
