Arcee was a menace.
And Knock Out would be sure to tell her so the moment his mouth was no longer occupied with her spike. Which, by the way, kept nudging at the back of his intake and seeping pre-fluid over his glossa.
Her hand cradled his helm, keeping him in place. Her thumb teased his finials, sending shocks of pleasure down his spinal strut.
“This, I think, is the best use for that smart mouth of yours,” she purred.
“Mmph.” His outrage was both muffled and buried under another wave of arousal as she rolled her hips forward, her spike gliding across his glossa.
Arcee chuckled. “You don’t agree?” She looked down at him and withdrew her spike, curling her hand around it so that she could paint his lips with the tip. “Or maybe you want something else?”
“Yes. A little attention for once,” Knock Out retorted, rolling his frame toward her, and specifically his hips. Not that he had much room to move, given the shackles keeping his wrists bound behind his back and to the back of the chair.
Her pre-fluid was sticky on his lips. He licked it away.
“Is that so?” Arcee stepped back and dropped down, straddling his lap. Her spike poked at his belly, leaving a swipe of fluid on his freshly polished armor. She did so love marking him. “Then ask me nicely.”
A menace. Clear and simple.
Knock Out twitched against the chair. His ankle-struts had been bound to the legs of the chair, forcing his knees spread wide, baring his array. His valve pulsed longingly. Every puff of air teased his swollen rim. There was a growing puddle beneath his aft. His spike throbbed behind his panel.
“Please,” he gritted out, never one to submit gracefully. That sounded too much like giving Arcee what she wanted. And Knock Out was not an obedient pet.
Unless he wanted to be.
“Can I have your spike?” Knock Out demanded.
“Mmm. No.” Arcee draped her arms over his shoulders, her long fingers teasing into the rims of his upper tires. “That greedy valve of yours definitely hasn’t earned it.”
Knock Out heard a click before he felt lubricant drip onto his spike panel. It was searing hot, such a tease. His vents stuttered. His spike throbbed harder.
“But maybe if you satisfy mine, I’ll play with yours.” Arcee rolled her hips again, grinding her spike against his ventrum, the heat of her valve such a tease above his spike panel.
Knock Out shivered and tugged at his bonds. They didn’t budge. “Menace,” he hissed.
Arcee hummed a laugh. “Maybe I am. Now give me your spike.”
Knock Out’s panel snicked aside, frame hastening to obey. He wasn’t even ashamed anymore, and especially not when Arcee immediately moved to sink down over him, swallowing his spike in one fell swoop.
His engine roared, threatening to kick into overheat.
Damn menace was what she was. Right down to the smirk on her lips. And the squeeze-clench-grip of her valve.