Sharpshot is a sniper, and is very good at that.

(warning: snipers being good at their job means people die)

The mech holding him was no sniper. Young, new, shaky,
barely able to aim a regular gun, let alone Sharpshot’s alt. No matter. For
this, all Sharpshot needed was the support. He did wish the support didn’t
tremble so much, but oh well… this was what his stabilizers were for, and the
half-wall under his muzzle gave some extra support.

His target was unaware. A Decepticon leader of some caliber.
Sharpshot hadn’t listened to name, rank, anything. It didn’t matter. That mech
was marked to die, Sharpshot had been picked to do it. In the back of his mind
he hoped the mech had done something unpleasant, but it didn’t matter. This was
his job. This was his role. This was how the world worked now- if you were important
enough to be a target, you had to keep your helm down.

This mech was not. He was up on a makeshift platform,
gesturing widely, pacing back and forth, evidently giving some kind of speech.
Sharpshot probably could have read his lips if anyone had ever taught him to do
so. He could pick out a few words, war,
Autobots, triumph, his processor focusing on familiar patterns as he waited
for his target to pace back into proper range, but it wasn’t important.

The conditions were important. The angle was important. The
frame of his target was important. The who and the why were not.

Snipers preferred to see a target’s optics. It wasn’t
sadism- it was confirmation. Differing helm and helmet shapes meant that
processors were in different locations. Optic contact was the best way to
ensure a kill.

Sharpshot had multiple chances, but never quite right.
Always with those bright red optics, newly installed by the sheen of them,
turned away from him. Always at the wrong angle. He needed a clean shot. He
always needed a clean shot, but especially in this- they only had one shot,
then they had to run.

Another broad gesture, Sharpshot saw his target moving into
the perfect position, and everything slowed down. He felt the trembling of his
support’s servos, the uneven air movement of their vents against him, the wind
against his muzzle. Most importantly for this, he felt the finger on his
trigger, half-pulled, full permission for him to do as he wanted. Take the
shot.

It took a moment, as it always did, for his frame to gather
the energy to fire. The downside of using one’s spark for power. He’d factored
that in, knew how long it took, and watched calmly as his slow-motion target moved
to line up with his crosshairs.

…three, four, five, and the shot was ready, six, seven, the
target turned fully to face him, eight, and he fired. The mech behind him
jolted in surprise, but one, two, not quite three, and there was a hole between
his target’s optics.

It was the optics. Two-and-a-half they widened the slightest
fraction, reflex, the target’s subconscious noticing the flash of light aiming
for him, but there wasn’t time to react before the core structure of his processor
was gone.

Sharpshot knew he’d been successful when he saw how the
optics changed. They flicker-spun, the lenses unfocusing in no particular
manner, the brightness shifting uncontrollably as the backlash of the processor
destruction sent nonsense signals out through their entire frame, and then as
their frame began to collapse, the lights went out.

Just before the target sank out of Sharpshot’s view, he saw
the darkness in those lifeless optics begin to spread down his target’s cheeks,
along the lines of bio-lights, and then his target was on the ground and he
lost his vision as his support whipped away and began to run.

Sharpshot jolted his trigger to get the servo away, then
transformed, clinging tight to his support’s side and chassis as the young
soldier ran. That was why this mech had come- not any particular skill, they
just ran fast. That was what was needed. They needed to run, get out of range,
out of sight, before anyone processed what had happened.

Processor slowing back to normal pace to conserve energy,
Sharpshot focused his primary optic on the rapidly vanishing scene behind them,
on what he could see through the walls. The target was on the ground, and three
mechs were on the platform next to him where they’d run to help, but none were
doing anything. That usually meant whoever was on the ground was beyond help.
The rest were staring towards where Sharpshot had been, or around at nothing-
some of them might have caught the flash or realized from the angle where the
sniper had been.

They wouldn’t catch Sharpshot.

Success.

Sharpshot felt good about succeeding, and especially about
not being caught.

He didn’t have any feelings about the rest.

He very deliberately did not have any feelings about the
rest.

Alzu and Almul inspect a corpse, Almul takes out some frustration on said corpse. Warning: messy. Descriptions of a corpse being messily taken apart and inspected. Also- it’s not technically cannibalism because they aren’t the same species, but Alzu is an opportunistic carnivore faced with a body made of meat. His response is unsurprising.

“What- you wanna know why that works?”

Alzu kicked lightly at the corpse of someone who had
formerly been a rather nasty rapist, turning the body over to look down at the
severely burned face. “Yeah, actually- not a bad question. See- clearly dead,
but you only burned ‘is face. Got all choke-y, though. Bet he couldn’t breathe,
but- yeah, might as well, let’s figure ‘er out. Gonn’ make a mess o’ the guy
anyway, may as well learn.”

Hefting the corpse, Alzu tossed it over one shoulder and set
off, tail wagging slightly as he watched Almul following. Almul got an energy
boost from being near something that was dying, so they were now trotting
happily, almost seeming to whistle as thin lines of smoke wafted up from their
frame. If Alzu were to open Almul’s chest, their life-flame would be visible
and burning bright.

Once they were well away from the road, Alzu dropped the
corpse and pulled a large hunting knife from its spot alongside his pack,
crouching to inspect it. “A’ight- let’s see if I can open this wi’out makin’ a
mess.”

Almul sat down nearby and rested both hands on the ground,
watching intently as fragile human hide parted under the knife, and didn’t
bother trying to hide their satisfaction at the noise it made. Ugh- smooth
skin. They had nothing against humans, really, but the squishy things still had
such an awful texture. And, after so
long feeling that inside them, unable
to see properly or focus on anything else, there was something viscerally
satisfying about watching-

Wait, now… it didn’t have to just be watching. Rumbling
softly, Almul reached out with one hand and slowly dragged it down the man’s
leg, watching the cloth part, then repeated the motion- this time tearing
through skin. And he was right- it was satisfying.
So very, very satisfying. Enough that he repeated the motion, then again- with
both hands this time, clawtips sharp as possible, ripping pale skin to shreds.
Then further through skin, into and through muscle, shredding in further until
the still blood started to cake their hands-

“Woah, hey- Almul, you wanna mess ‘im up, I got no
complaints, bu’ you might be gettin’ kinda- hey now, easy, shh. Catharsis is
all well an’ good, jus’ no good makin’ yerself more upset while ya do it. Easy-
shift t’ th’ other leg now, gonn’ get blood all up in yer hands. Yeah? There we
go.” Alzu purred, pausing in his careful parting of the skin and muscle to
watch Almul for a moment. “Tha’s better.”

He had to crack the ribcage rather carefully to get to the
lungs intact, but it worked, though he had to pull a few large chunks of rib
out. And, of course, pop them into his mouth to chew on. “Now-“ *crunch* “-what
we have here arrrre- lookit, tha’s a heart, you know ‘bout them. Now, these’re
lungs. You also know ‘bout them, yeah? We got heart here- pushes blood ‘round.
Lungs, they get air in ‘em. People really need air in ‘em or they die, you
figured tha’ out. This, here- diaphragm. Real strong hunk o’ muscle. This-
pretty sure it pulls down an’ helps open th’ lungs. Ain’t no good for eatin’,
not bad fer jus’ chewin’ on. Anyway- lungs. They got air in ‘em. All th’ way up- that’s th’ windpipe. Gonn’ cut that
through, an’-“

A few deft cuts and nicks with his claws, and he lifted the
lungs out of the human’s chest, splaying them grotesquely across the relatively
intact stomach. The hunting knife, next- slicing down the windpipe, then into
and across one of the lungs. When he spread them open, thick burns were
revealed all down the windpipe and into the lungs, scorching them almost beyond
recognition. “Well. There’s yer problem.”

Pausing to point out the issue, Alzu aimed a tongue-lolling
grin at Almul, prodding at a particularly bad spot. “Lookit this mess, Almul-
that ain’t good! Okay, look- I dunno how lungs really work, but I doubt they can do it when they’re
all burnt up. Tha’s why ‘e’s dead. You gotta have lungs t’ be a workin’ human,
an’ they gotta work, an’ you made ‘is lungs not work. Nasty. But- mmph-“

Clearly he had to
see what those tasted like. And they fit in his mouth in two nice bites.

“-like a lotta nasty things, tasty.”

Almul had mostly been ignoring Alzu’s work in favor of
clawing up the corpse’s other leg, stripping long ribbons of skin free and
hissing in satisfaction with every long stroke, but they stopped to look the
organ over before Alzu, once again, ate their anatomy lesson. Chirping quietly,
they shook their head and flicked both hands, peeling loose the bits of gore,
and leaned over to look down at the exposed organs. Humans were complicated.
What did all this do, again? They only knew about the bits that could make
someone dead if you damaged them right. So, making the noise that they’d
established with Alzu as meaning “please explain”, they indicated something
that was in the “this will eventually kill someone but not right away” section,
wanting to know what some of those things did.

“Wha? Ah- let’s see. Okay. That, there, tha’s a liver. Real
tasty, lotsa meaty flavor. Not certain wha’ it does, bu’ I know people who
drink a lot got real messed-up ones, an’ there’s some diseases that’ll do it.
Makes people ge’ yellow eyes, an’ they get real sick when they got messed-up
livers, so I think it does somethin’ like blood-cleanin’? Now- this, in here,
dunno. Uh- tha’ thing? Tha’s a kidney. Lookit- you follow th’ string down, goes
t’ the bladder. Tha’s where piss stays. I figure kidneys’re wha’ make it. Dunno
why, sorry, y’d need a doctor. Uh- you punch someone in their back, o’r th’
kidneys, they start screamin’. Don’ taste good, either. Now- I am gonn’ eat
this liver.”

Alzu then proceeded to eat the liver, tail wagging
vigorously, before just driving both hands into the corpse’s innards and
ripping. Standard contract deal- make a horrific mess of someone’s innards,
hang them up as a warning, write whatever they did on something nearby.

In this case, a cliff.

Almul sat back and watched, fascinated as always by the way
flesh tore under proper force, and kneaded their claws in the leaf litter to
clean the worst of the blood away. As Alzu continued to work, they edged over
and grabbed the pack, pulling out a length of rope, and fastened it around the
corpse’s ankles. The knot was not neat, they were still learning how all that
worked, but it held well enough, and they had the end of the rope in their
hands as Alzu stood up.

“Yeah- there we go, yer learnin’ how ta make knots.” Alzu
declared, tail waving a bit harder, and hoisted the corpse in both hands so
that the end of the rope could be tossed over the branch. A quick pull and
another knot later, and the corpse was suspended from the tree by both ankles
and one arm- thoroughly undignified, plus it showed off all the damage. Alzu padded
over to the cliff nearby for just long enough to paint “RAPIST” in messy
letters across it, using the blood all over his hands, then shook himself and
scooped the pack up as he padded away. “Startin’ ta leak gut contents
everywhere. C’mon- let’s get a river.”

Churring in agreement, Almul followed Alzu and snagged a
cloth from the pack to clean their hands off, quiet and satisfied. Okay. That…
that had felt nice.

Maybe they could do this with the next target. It wasn’t as
if the average rapist deserved any respect, after all- might as well use them
for something helpful.

“I said-“

Bristling, Alzu stood up and stretched to his full height,
glowering down at the target of his ire. His easy, relaxed manner had vanished,
as had his accent, and he made certain to pronounce each word very carefully so
that there would be no hope of a “can’t understand you” blow-off.

“Do not touch them. They do not like that, they have made it
clear, and you will respect that.”

The source of the problem, an unpleasant male human who had
gotten far too grabby, visibly blanched at being told to back off by 7+ feet of
pissed-off Lyca. There were too many people watching for him to back off,
though, so he did his best to stretch enough to match Alzu. It failed entirely,
of course. “What do I care? It’s a damn suit of armor- supposed to be something
you wear,” he hissed, then reached
out with one hand, planting it firmly on Almul’s arm.

“Wrong answer,” Alzu snarled, and lunged- shoving the human
away and putting himself in front of Almul. Hunching his shoulders and lowering
his head, he opened his mouth and curled his lips in a snarl, displaying every
fang in his long, long jaws. As he spoke, he prowled closer to the human, fur
bristling in a thoroughly intimidating threat display.

“When I said respect
that, I meant fuck off.”

On the last word, he lunged, snapping his jaws shut so close
to the human’s face that his front teeth nicked skin.

That did it. The
blood drained entirely from the human’s face, except in the shallow scrapes
welling bright red, and he just about tripped over himself turning to run.

Alzu watched the human flee with no small amount of
satisfaction, then turned away from the rest of the bar, ignoring the stares
and mutters. “There we go. Got rid o’ ‘im. Y’okay, Al- ah, no, not okay? A’ight,
easy… I gotcha. C’mon- don’t smell so nice here anyway,” he muttered, pushing
his muzzle against the side of Almul’s helmet, and nuzzled softly until he got
Almul standing. “Easy- get on up. Gotta leave, an’ yer heavy. ‘Sides, I figure
you don’ wan’ me carryin’ ya.”

It took some nuzzling and gentle pushing, but he managed to
get Almul standing, gently steering them towards the door. “G’on.”

Almul was trembling, but they obeyed, albeit clicking
rapidly and almost pushing back against Alzu. They didn’t want to be moved, but they absolutely wanted to go
the way Alzu was suggesting, and- oh, they wanted to leave, they wanted very
badly to leave.

Alzu stayed close and nuzzled Almul’s scruff the entire
time, crooning gently, and tried not to touch too much aside from the necessary
steering. Almul tended to walk in a fairly straight line when upset like this,
and they needed to be somewhere off to the side. “G’on… trees, see? Gonn’ go
over there an’ sit, hm? Shh, shh- gotcha.”

Once they were behind enough trees to be hidden from
passers-by, Alzu sat down with his back against a tree and crooned enticingly,
patting his legs and trying to lure his friend down. “C’mere- y’wanna touch?
Nice’n soft- c’mere, pet me. Tha’s good, right?”

Yes.

Clicking very softly, Almul fidgeted for a moment, agitated,
then crouched in front of Alzu and reached for him. Making an agitated scraping
noise, they tucked their frame into Alzu’s lap, folding into a little ball and
stroking at his arm with both hands. No, no, no- why? They had been enjoying
things at the bar, enjoying all the people, and then someone had insisted on touching them- hadn’t
listened, hadn’t backed off, had just grabbed-

Almul flinched as two hands slid up under their cloak, but
gradually relaxed at the familiar, slow petting, slumping further against the
soft-furred frame. Alzu was soft, nice- so, so soft. Didn’t feel like before, like the humans who had caused
this, just felt like Alzu. Safe,
comfortable, not about to try anything, just… holding them, trying to comfort,
trying to make them feel better. Nuzzling their helmet- all soft, gentle. Nice.
Almul leaned into Alzu’s snout, clicking in appreciation, and lightly stroked
at all the thick fur on his front. They were still shaking, though, claws
trembling against his frame as they tried to shiver away the sensation of hands
grasping at them, forcing buckles apart, sliding up inside them and manipulating them-

Squawking a harsh sound of metal on metal, Almul shuddered
violently and kicked out, claws scraping on the tree behind Alzu as they tried
to claw away from the memory and the sensations.

“Oh, hah, shh- easy, y’a’ight, shh-“ Alzu crooned, sliding
his hands up further to grip firmly just below where Almul’s cloak was
attached. This was a good spot to touch, it didn’t seem to upset Almul, and
that- that was important right now, he needed to make this better.

Tail waving as much as possible given the position, Alzu
shifted until he could rock slightly, continuing to speak gently and pet
Almul’s frame. “Shh, ‘s a’ight. Ain’t anyone tryin’ anything. I gotcha. Ain’t
gonna haveta worry ‘bout that any more, no one’s gonn’ make y’ do anythin’.
Promise. Ain’t gonn’ let anyone do that t’ ya.”

Alzu continued to rock and croon for several more minutes,
licking gently at the side of Almul’s helm then sighed and shook his head when
it failed to be effective. “This ain’t workin’, huh? A’ight. Bet we can find ya
some water- y’ wanna get washed off? Yeah? C’mon- that’ll help ya. Up, up-
c’mon, shiny, I gotcha. There gotta be near a river here. Always rivers near
human stuff. Up, up.”

Almul rasped unhappily the whole way up, protesting at being
moved, but followed Alzu when he started walking. Alzu could smell water, Alzu
could find water, which meant Almul could get clean, and they wanted that beyond what they could express.
Whining an unpleasant sound of metal quavering against metal, they pressed up
close behind Alzu as they followed, pushing their face into his back now and
then. He smelled like warm fur, sweat, leaf litter, and dead things, not at all
like humans, not like the cloying scent that had taken what felt like weeks to scrub free of their insides-

Hands sliding up under their own chestplate, Almul clawed at
the inside of their plating, trying to scrape away the sensation of sticky heat
and the stink of a furless mammal in
a closed space, and they sped up to get past Alzu and at least try to find some kind of water. Alzu was
not moving fast enough.

“A’ight, I gotcha- c’mon, fast.” Alzu muttered, ears going
back at the sounds, and sped up to just under a run. He wasn’t certain how fast
Almul could run with both hands stuffed into themself, but this would have to
work- that amount of distress was unacceptable.

The river was easy to find, upstream of town judging by the
lack of human-smell, and he wasted no time in stripping off everything he was
wearing in order to get in. “Go on, then, I gotcha, be right in, jus’ go an’
make y’self feel better.”

Almul did not wear clothing, and they would not have cared
if they did. They just plunged directly into the river, wading out until they
were almost submerged, and spread their plating apart far enough to start frantically
scrubbing their insides. The cold of the water pushed away the remembered
sticky heat, but the smell, the texture, was
still there, and it needed to stop, they
needed to get it out-

Once the pack was off his back, Alzu went digging around
until he found two items: a bag of coarse sand, and a large, rough cloth.
Pouring some of the sand into the cloth, he folded it a couple of times, then
called out a soft noise and waded into the river. “Shh, hey- gotcha. Uh- gotcha
if ya come out jus’ a li’l bit more, yeah? Y’ in too deep t’ scrub properly,
c’mere where I can see what ah’m doin’- yeah, there we go, c’mon.”

Standing chest-deep in the gently flowing river, Alzu
pressed softly against Almul’s back, stroking and nuzzling gently for a few
moments before touching low on his friend’s stomach. “Hey- lemme in? Jus’ fluff
tha’ plating out, lemme scrub ya clean. Yeah? ‘s okay, though, don’ haveta-
jus’ maybe lemme help? Ah, yeah- there we go, oh, good Almul, tha’s it, good- lemme help.”

Almul obeyed, chirping softly in distress, all the plating
along their front floating apart to let Alzu’s hands in. A quick shudder at the
sensation of armor being pushed further apart, but then it was a touch of fur rather than skin, coarse pawpads
rubbing softly before the cloth was brought to bear. The sand didn’t hurt,
being used like that- in fact, it felt good. Invigorating. More importantly,
cleansing. Rough and firm and familiar, Alzu
trying to make them feel better, Alzu caring
about them, praising them-

Another shudder, softer this time, and Almul went limp
against Alzu’s front with a quiet hiccupping noise (and gesture) that spit fire
from the gaps around their helm. Whirring quietly, they turned their helm to
the side and leaned it against Alzu, their hands slowly coming back out from
their own innards in favor of reaching back to touch Alzu’s sides.

“Yeah… tha’s it. There we go… tha’s better. Good, good… so
good o’ ya t’ lemme try this. We feelin’ better, yeah? Good- gotcha. I gotch- ow, okay, I still gotcha, bu’ could you
move a li’l? Yer leanin’ yer shiny ass on m’ dick, an’ normally I would not
complain ‘bout somethin’ like this, bu’ you are made outta metal- there we go,
thankya. Okay. Still gotcha. You lean all nice on me- ain’t that heavy. Hol’ still, lemme scrub.”

Tongue lolling in a deliberately casual expression, Alzu
leaned the side of his muzzle against Almul’s ‘face’, rubbing his cheek against
the open spaces. He kept scrubbing, as well, shifting around to get at
different spots. The insides of Almul’s chest and abdomen, first, then up into
their shoulders before going down to clean around the insides of their hips. No
sexy comments, though. For once, Alzu was not in the mood for sexy comments.
Nor would Almul want that, of course. Other times, sure, it would be funny. Now,
heck no.

Right, Alzu was naked. Almul shifted to not lean on any
sensitive parts of him, pushing their face into Alzu’s muzzle, and whined
gently as they began to settle. The sensation of their insides being scoured should probably have been unnerving, but it felt good, and it pushed away
every other feeling in favor of something nice.

After a few minutes, they chirped quietly and nudged Alzu’s
arms until he withdrew, then settled the plating on their front, turned around,
and flared the plating in their back. Pressed chest-to-chest with Alzu, they
waited until his hands were back inside them, this time reaching in to rub at
the inside of their chest, then put their arms around Alzu and squeezed. They
had no voice to speak with, not really, but they purred as softly as possible
and nuzzled into his throat in an effort to make their thanks known. Alzu had
protected them, then brought them here and made them feel better, and it was good. They were thankful. Did- did Alzu
know that? It seemed very important to make sure that Alzu knew that.

Crooning as softly as they could, Almul began to knead at
Alzu’s back, trying to offer their thanks for what he’d done for them. Hopefully
it would be understood, even without words.

“Ah, yeah, I gotcha. Yer welcome. Shh-shh, gotcha- good,
good Almul. Yeah. Feelin’ better now, huh? Y’know, ‘s a good thing fer those
folks who hurt ya that they’re already dead, otherwise I’d’ve killed ‘em all
messy by now. You know I would, right? Yeah. I gotcha. Gotcher back- ain’t
gonna let anyone hurt’cha. An’ you don’ gotta put up wi’ that, ya know, you got fire.” Alzu reminded, letting a growl
slip into his voice, and tightened his grip just slightly. “Y’ can burn people.
Make’m back off. Make’m be dead. Ain’t
gonna be hurt like that ever again. I ain’t gonna let ‘em, you ain’t gonna let ‘em.
Not gonn’ be hurt again, promise. Shh-shh, good- relax. Ah, ‘ere- wanna get
out? Let’s go’n sit an’ be warm, hm? Sit in th’ sun.”

Good- Alzu understood. Almul rumbled in satisfaction, then
gently detached and backed off, turning away to get out of the water. They
paused to duck underwater all the way and flutter their plating, an
invigorating motion that rinsed them clean, then headed for the edge of the
river. It took them some effort, their boots were sinking into the mud and
there were what felt like large insects crawling on their legs, but they
managed to get back to the shore. Even if they had to stop in about a foot of
water to empty the mud out of their legs.

Once completely out of the water, they fluffed their plating
and shook, removing at least the majority of the water from their frame. They
wouldn’t rust if they stayed wet, but it was time to be dry now. Rumbling
softly, they stretched, settling themselves down, then clacked quietly and sat.
Okay- they could sit here, be in the sunlight, and just… relax. Much nicer than
a bar full of loud, grabby people. Less interesting for Alzu, but… this worked.
Right? Was this OK?

Hm, Alzu had vanished under the water and, from what Almul
could see, was trying to stuff something into his mouth. Apparently there was
food. In that case, this was probably fine by Alzu.

Grinning, Alzu raised his head and triumphantly held up a
crayfish, crunching on what were probably more crayfish, then popped the last
one into his mouth and waded back to shore. Pausing a respectful distance away,
he shook himself off, then loped over and flopped onto his belly near Almul. “There
we go. No more li’l noisy scumbags. M’kay- next town? I go to th’ bar an’ I get
drinks, then we sit in, like, a tree, an’ we enjoy th’ stuff an’ don’ haveta
worry ‘bout grabby folks. ‘cos fuck grabby folks. Eh?”

Perfect. Almul chirped in agreement, then edged over,
reached down, and roughly scuffed a hand up and down Alzu’s spine. Alzu liked
this, right? Ah, yes- wagging tail. Alzu liked this.

Their insides still tingled pleasantly from the scrub, every
other feeling had been pushed away in favor of the lingering sensation of rough
pawpads and a sand-filled cloth, and they were sitting in the sun to let their
frame dry. Plus, Alzu was with them, was happy, and specifically was happy
because of something that Almul was doing. That was… mm. That was very nice.

Thank you.

Batter Up

fortheloveofsinkind:

This was not how sex usually went for The Batter. People who got a look at his equipment usually wanted to try it out, and- well, he generally ended up topping, for one reason or another.

But the creature he’d ended up propositioning tonight had made a very inviting offer, enough that he’d decided to give it a try, and he was not regretting his decision.

The position he’d taken was one he usually saw others in, but it earned him an appreciative growl and a long, slow lick up the full length of his spine, his partner panting against the scruff of his neck as he was mounted. And the frustratingly long foreplay suddenly made much more sense as he felt the tips of his partner’s twin shafts press against him, but the first careful thrust had slid easily, and-

At first, he’d been snarling every few thrusts, a wordless challenge to the lanky thing holding him down. Was there even enough power in those skinny hips to give him what he wanted here? But, well-

Turned out it wasn’t a question of core strength so much as leg strength. Which his partner had in abundance.

Which explained what he was doing here, bent over a desk, panting softly as he was railed by something with seven eyes, four arms, and a wonderfully long tongue- and enough flexibility to put said tongue against the small of his back while fucking him. Not what he was used to, but Hell yes. The Batter’s clawed hands tightened around the opposite edge of the deck and he hissed up at his partner, pushing back hard against Gravescratch, and stifled a moan as he was pushed back down. There were probably going to be bruises across the fronts of his thighs after this, but it was worth it.

A long tongue with a split tip ran up his back, then sharp teeth nipped at the back of his neck and his partner snarled down at him, panting hot air against the scruff of his neck. Four sets of claws dug into his skin from two hands wrapped around his ribcage and two locked onto his hips, and a particularly hard thrust drew a shaky growl of pleasure from him, plus an attempt to push himself back into his partner again.

A low, breathy chuckle hit his ears, and the jaws on the back of his neck released long enough for their owner to purr “not so cocky now, hmm?” down at him, grinding firmly into him and hitting some very nice spots. And he really didn’t have the coherence to answer that- but he tried anyway, opening his mouth to respond, and just… got stuck. Mouth hanging open, tongue lolling, fangs bared in the closest thing he could manage to defiance. The effect was entirely outweighed by the sounds he kept making, though, growls that were more like moans every time Gravescratch hit a good spot. Which was often, given how fast he was thrusting, and he was not going to last long if this pace was kept up. Not that he minded.

A pause gave The Batter enough time to push himself up a bit and glance over his shoulder, watching in confusion as his partner contorted to place one clawed foot against his hip. That shifted the lanky thing’s twin shafts rather nicely inside him, but the positioning was a bit odd, so what-

And then Gravescratch started thrusting again, hard, trading speed for power at an angle that was very strange but felt-

–oh-

All four of his eyes opened very, very wide, and The Batter’s back arched in pleasure, a shaky cry escaping him, then he shuddered and hissed softly as clawed hands cupped his face. His partner’s friend. Presumptuous. But the odd white eyes were nice, the cocky grin was promising, and it was very hard to feel even slightly indignant with two very nice dicks stuffed up his ass.

Especially not as Gravescratch shifted his hips and hit the perfect spot, drawing a cry of pleasure from him, and all four sets of claws dragged against his skin-

The Batter came undone with an unearthly shriek, lanky frame shuddering, claws putting long gouges in the wood of the desk.

Gravescratch held on for just a few moments longer, for one,, two, three thrusts, then bit down on the back of The Batter’s neck and came, keening quietly in pleasure as the two small knots at the bases of his shafts expanded. Not enough to be a considerable additional stretch, but enough to hold him in place as long as he made no real effort to pull out.

Blackspark grinned at the shocked-slash-pleased look on The Batter’s face, then purred gently, one hand sliding back to ease Gravescratch’s teeth off their handsome find’s neck. “Oh, look at you…” he murmured, taking in The Batter’s expression, and not even pretending not to be turned on by that particular face. Eyes wide and rolled back slightly, mouth open slightly, tonguetip lolling out, too blissful to be cocky any more. Perfect picture. “You like those knots, hm? Good way t’ stretch you out a li’l bit more. An’ you’re gonna need it, ‘cos I’m getting’ my turn wi’ you soon as he can pull out, an’… hm. What d’you think? S’pose you can take th’ both of us a’ once?”

…how was he supposed to respond to that?

The Batter blinked a couple of times, shifting slightly and pulling his claws out of the desk, and found his answer as he felt Gravescratch shift in him.

Teeth clicking together as he shut his mouth, The Batter took a deep breath and pushed himself up off the desk with both hands, getting his face as close to Blackspark’s as he could with Gravescratch still buried in his ass.

“Game on.”