Hound shuddered. Arousal pooled so heavily in his lines that it felt as though his energon were boiling. He writhed in the grass, desperate for relief from the heat, and eagerly rolling his array toward the long, wet swipes of Ravage’s glossa.
“Wha—what’s wrong with me?” he whimpered, not at all embarrassed to admit that his frame was suffering a special kind of agony.
Ravage licked a wet stripe up his valve, flicking over his anterior node cluster.
“It is a virus,” she answered, transmitting over the up-link. She’d connected her cables to his ventral port as her mouth was quite busy. “One that forces arousal.”
Hound groaned. “Purge it!”
“I can’t. It self-eliminates once it’s run it’s course.”
His vents gasped for air. His array throbbed desperately. His vocalizer stuttered. “R-r-run?”
“You need to overload. Often and quickly. I’m sorry.” Her ex-vents teased his swollen array, alternating with the long swipes of her glossa.
Hound clawed up handfuls of grass, feeling dirt in his gears. “N-not how I planned on spending… this trip… with you,” he gasped, as volcanic heat slithered into agony. “But… better than… nothing.”
Ravage purred against his valve and a jolt of pleasure lanced up his backstrut. Her glossa was a wicked, wicked thing.
“Love you, too. Now lie back and let me fix this, sweetspark.”
Hound forced an optic online to look down at her, affection crackling through the need. Primus, she was beautiful.