Work Text:
Adrenaline can make you do weird things. Critter is well aware of this fact. They have known for a while that Bulwark gets….especially horny after a kill. Something about coming out of a high-stress situation. It is….different in person.
As soon as they enter the ship, they are grabbed by strong blue servos from behind. Bulwark is still covered in ash from his flamethrower and the blood of the alien they have been contracted to assassinate. Their mate is reduced to snarling, half-word sentences, and EM field rippling with intent. It should not be this hot to feel how desperate he is for them.
But still…. "Bulwark, we're still covered in filth! Shower! Shower first!"
He growls at them and picks them up. Critter can feel the ship leaving the planet's atmosphere with the guidance of the autopilot while Bulwark carries them to their washracks. The small cubicle can barely fit them, but it's ok because the bounty hunter is practically pinning them to the shower wall, front-to-back.
Warm solvent rains down on them, washing away the dirt and grime. And now, Bulwark has started to grind up against them, with his servo firmly on their crotch plate. Their vents open, trying to dispel the rising heat. "Open," he snarls into their audial, and they can't help but moan as their valve cover snaps aside. Bulwark wastes no time, a thick blue digit already spreading them open. They scrabble for leverage on the slippery wall, and Bulwark takes pity on them. He tips them back, laying them upright against his chassis. Critter immediately starts riding his servo, moaning like a two-shanix whore. And really, there is no one to hear them here, who cares if they sound like a desperate slut? Not them when it means they can feel their mate's spike cover snap open, and that wonderful spike pressurizes against their backstrut. As they fuck themselves down, to take more and more of those blue digits, they feel as the other bot grinds against them in an aroused haze. They can't wait to get that spike inside themselves! One digit turns into two and then three, relentlessly prodding, and they feel themselves tip over into an overload.
As they come down, they notice the emptiness in their valve. Not for long, because they are grabbed and flipped around to face the blue bot, who pulls them into a consuming kiss and slowly but unrelentingly enters them. Frag….they both needed this. After Bulwark finally bottoms out, they breathe together for a moment, just gathering themselves. Then. He moves.
The ridges on his spike awaken every node in Critter's valve, setting their neural net on fire. Every push and pull is chasing them closer and closer to the edge. The thing that throws them over is when Bulwark bites into their shoulder and overloads deep inside them, his transfluid filling them up and catapulting them into their second overload of the night.
They float back up slowly, to Bulwark gently nuzzling their neck cables, but they can already feel him stiffen up again. It looks like they need to be the responsible one, so they croak out through a staticky vocalizer: "Berthroom.” Bulwark, while still not talking, gets the message and pulls out (an embarrassing amount of fluids following in his wake) and shifts Critter into a more secure hold. The walk to the berthroom is brief, the shower automatically shutting off behind them. They don’t even need to dry off, the solvent evaporating in billowing clouds from their overheated frames.
Bulwark lays Critter down on the padded surface and cages them in with his body, hovering over them. Now that the edge has been taken off somewhat, he is even more tactile, scattering small kisses all over Critter’s frame and caressing them with one of his servos. Critter would be lying if they said they don’t enjoy the attention. As much as Bulwark might be intense sometimes, they really do trust him, and for good reason. The soft touches get Critter to relax into the berth and they raise their servos to reciprocate, tracing thick armor and feeling the powerful engine rumbling above them. He catches them in a deep kiss and leans more and more weight on them until they can’t move and they feel surrounded and safe. Bulwark is reluctant to break away, but he does and sits up to line up their arrays correctly. He picks up Critter’s legs to slide between them and enters back into their valve with one smooth thrust. The angle makes it so the ridges hit a sensitive node cluster near the end of Critter’s valve, and the sensation makes them moan. Some slow thrusts, then Bulwark really starts fucking them. The feeling makes their processor scramble and their vocalizer glitch. The pace is relentless and animalistic and they love it, maybe there is something loose in their processor, but the fact that Bulwark is in so deep that he doesn’t even talk, just communicating with his field...it should NOT be a turn-on. But it makes their spark race and chases them closer and closer to overload. Bulwark seemingly notices the change in their field, because he focuses his thrusts into that sensitive cluster, and pins them down. Critter hits their overload with a static-filled moan, and their back bows off the berth. Or more accurately, it would have, if Bulwark's chassis wasn't pressing them down into the padded surface.
They don't even have time to properly cool off before Bulwark is rearranging them. Face-down onto the berth, aft in the air. By now he must be playing off the animalistic idea, but no, he pins them, mouths at their neck a bit, then bites down as he slides his spike back into Critter's valve. Critter's processor scrambles, and they kinda lose all of their higher processing. The only thing they're aware of is Bulwark's chassis above them, his teeth in their neck, and his spike, driving deep like he wants to rearrange their insides to fit him. They might have overloaded again, but don't even properly register it with the out-of-body experience they're having. They do come back into their chassis however, when they feel Bulwark’s charge peak, tipping them over the edge too, with his transfluid filling their already stuffed valve.
They can see the stress warnings flashing on the edge of their HUD and also feel that they're done for the night. Bulwark evidently isn't because he's already pressurizing back up, and Critter feels the pleasure turning towards pain. But as soon as their field gets colored by "too-much-too-much-it-hurts" Bulwark immediately stops everything. Critter can hear Bulwark’s cables creak in protest from the tension, but he withdraws carefully, and gently, oh so gently nuzzles their helm. Critter lifts a shaky servo to pet the blue helm, and attempts to reset their vocalizer. "It's alright," Primus, their voice sounds like they have been in a screaming match. "I'm just...definitely tapped out for the night."
While it seems Bulwark will be perfectly willing to ignore his own charge, Critter knows that not getting rid of it, especially after a high-stress situation like this hunt, is not healthy. So, time to get creative. All of Critter’s struts still feel like energon-jelly but they do manage to catch Bulwark’s still pressurized spike between their thighs. They might’ve also managed to overextend themself. Luckily, Bulwark picks up on what they're trying to do, and gently rolls both of them to the side. He tucks Critter close, and begins sliding his spike between their thighs. At this point, Critter is just enjoying the closeness and the protective wrap of Bulwark’s EM field. His pace picks up and charge leaps between the plates of their bodies as he approaches his overload. He finally overloads with Critter's name on his lips. It's...flattering to say the least, to be the one thing on Bulwark’s mind even when he's in this deep.
And now, they can hear the bigger bot's engine settling into idle as he slips into recharge. The comforting sound lulls Critter into recharge as well. They don't even register the mess they're lying in. They're going to complain about it come morning, but for now they are content sleeping in the safest place they know.