Knock Out (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
automobile_enthusiast) wrote2014-11-17 12:19 am
automobile_enthusiast) wrote2014-11-17 12:19 am
PORN
Knock Out was in agony, and it was exquisite.
He'd long known that Breakdown was a maestro with his mouth, of course, but this time around his partner was really outdoing himself. Mercilessly Breakdown sucked at the fluid-flush mesh rim of Knock Out's interface channel; unbearable were his dentals on the engorged nub of Knock Out's anchor node; his talented tongue was a torment as it probed into Knock Out's grasping conduit. Whining deep in his throat, Knock Out tried to grind back against Breakdown's face, aching for more contact, for sparking friction,for deeper penetration-- but he could barely move. His partner's huge hands were like clamps on his hips, holding him in place just as effectively as the restraint straps that pinned his wrists and ankles to the maille-covered surface of their bunk.
He twitched his hips against the restraining hands as Breakdown's face lifted away from his interface array. For a moment he thought his pleas for penetration were going to be answered; Breakdown's huge fingers replaced his mouth at the entrance to Knock Out's channel, pressing lightly against hot metal. He would have happily impaled himself on them then and there, but Breakdown's other hand on his hip prevented him still from doing anything more than just trembling helplessly as those blunt fingertips probed at his entrance. Slowly, slowly, Breakdown dragged a single fingertip around Knock Out's swollen rim, little static sparks jumping between his digit and the slick metal-mesh; when he reached the anchor node, he flicked it, and the sharp shock of discharge from nub to fingertip made Knock Out yelp. He felt it all the way inside, an actinic tingle that made the walls of his channel ripple and his cordset jerk in its cage; it was enough to make him groan, his own sharp fingertips scrabbling helplessly at the slightly-yielding maille beneath his bolted-down hands.
"Breakdown, please," he said, a crackling touch of audio static burring his voice to match the electrical static flickering between his legs.
The bigger cyb didn't answer with words. Instead, Knock Out felt a finger finally push inside him, and he could have sobbed with relief-- and did sob when the digit penetrated no further than the first knuckle.
"Breakdown!" he cried, somewhere between admonitory and pleading.
His partner ignored him in favor of fitting another fingertip in beside the first, pushing no deeper but stretching at least the rim of Knock Out's channel deliciously. Thighs trembling, Knock Out tried to hold still, be patient, be good, but when Breakdown worked a third finger in beside the other two, his control broke. He rocked in the restraints, trying to drive his hips down on the other cyb's hand.
"Hey, none of that," Breakdown said, his voice stern. He slipped his fingers free. "I thought I told you not to move?"
Head drooping between his shoulder armor, Knock Out grunted reluctant assent.
"That's right," Breakdown said, and then added after an uncertain, stretching pause, "So you, uh, just wait." And then he flicked Knock Out's anchor node again, hard; this time the jolt made Knock Out howl, his channel spasming despite the lack of further stimulation, coolant starting to flush and leak down his thighs. It wasn't until the charge dissipated itself against the reverse-Faraday locked around his cordset that torment eased, and even then he was still preoccupied by the throbbing ache of his largely undischarged array.
So preoccupied was he, he didn't even notice that Breakdown had moved until his partner was in front of him, tilting his head up until their optics met. "Hey, doc," he said, his voice quiet but intense, "gimme an element."
It took Knock Out a moment to find coherence enough to answer. "Nn-- cobalt, Breakdown," he managed. "Cobalt. Don't stop."
"You sure?"
Turning his head, Knock Out lipped at Breakdown's thumb. "Yessss," he breathed, his vents hissing along with the sibilance of the word as he drew it out. He wriggled, as sultry as a cyb bound on his hands and knees could wriggle, and moaned shamelessly as his cordset bobbed between his legs. "Positive."
Breakdown hesitated a moment longer, searching his optics earnestly before he finally released Knock Out and straightened up. He gave a short little nod, then seemed to gather himself, shoulders pulling back and his expression becoming determined. He stepped around the worktable again, passing out of Knock Out's line of sight, and not being able to turn and see him made the anticipation of what Breakdown might do next all the more keen.
His partner made him wait for it, too. Knock Out could hear him behind, the little hums and clatters as he moved around, apparently preparing-- hopefully preparing-- please let him be preparing something good--
And Breakdown didn't disappoint. He grabbed Knock Out's hip with one hand and with one finger of the other probed deep and rough into his ready channel. Knock Out crowed with delight, and again louder as Breakdown ground a knuckle against his anchor node.
The finger slid free just as abruptly as it had entered. "Shh," Breakdown commanded him. "You don't want the troopers gossiping, do you?"
Well, the troopers would gossip no matter what, even if their respect for Breakdown would keep that gossip from becoming too malicious, but Knock Out bit his lip and tried to swallow his cries anyway. This was all part of the game and he was perfectly willing to play it. His partner wasn't going to make it easy on him, though; when the digit returned, it wasn't to Knock Out's slick and inviting channel, but instead to probe at waste chute entrance adjacent. He went slowly, coaxing his slick digit inside with a slow but inexorable pressure while Knock Out gnawed his lip and tried to keep himself only to whimpering. While Knock Out would much rather have felt the stretch of Breakdown's big cordset buried deep in his channel, any kind of pressure was welcome right now, and he squeezed his partner's finger approvingly.
Nor did Breakdown disappoint him, single digit withdrawing almost all the way but only so a second could join it, the pair driving inexorably up into him. That would have been maddening enough on its own; when Breakdown started to scissor, Knock Out slumped down from his elbows, shoulders collapsing to the surface of the bunk and his whole body starting to shake. He turned his face against the maille of the bunk's surface beneath him and let it absorb his moans as Breakdown relentlessly opened the valve that capped his waste chute.
Paradoxically, the attention to his chute only seemed to be charging his interface array up more. Knock Out knew, academically, that the systems that controlled the one were only peripherally entangled with the other, but that didn't stop his interface channel from cycling in time to the movement of Breakdown's fingers. Chute-play wasn't usually enough to get him off, but he could feel the charge building precipitously as Breakdown worked his fingers in and out, in and out, static playing back and forth between his digits and Knock Out's plating, a telling lead-up to--
Breakdown pulling his fingers free completely.
Face still turned into the maille, Knock Out saw fit to yowl his displeasure, knowing that the bunk would muffle the sound. Still, he heard Breakdown tsk disapprovingly behind him.
"That's not quiet, doc," he said, his voice chiding. "Try and hold it in a little, huh?" he added, but even as he was saying it he was sliding a plug into Knock Out's gaping chute, huge and cold and burning delightfully as it forced the already-stretched valve open further, and Knock Out was having a very hard time obeying Breakdown's command.
Then the plug clicked into place with half a dozen pinprick shocks as it clamped onto the rim of Knock Out's valve. He didn't usually come from chute-play but he sure was discharging now, his waste chute squeezing the bulbous intruder and his interface channel squeezing nothing at all, but putting forth a valiant effort anyway. He could feel the distinctive sensation of static microbolts crackling along his plating, the charge traversing the array to his cordset-- where the reverse-Faraday caging him dispersed it harmlessly, thwarting the blinding total discharge of Knock Out's major overload.
Knock Out cried out again, hands fisting impotently in the restraints. "Breakdown-- please, you're killing me here--!"
"Nah." Breakdown leaned over him from behind, close enough to tease Knock Out's agonizingly sensitive array, not close enough for the contact-friction-charge that the littler grounder desperately craved. Supporting himself on one hand, Breakdown reached with the other to play with the protruding end of the grounding rod sunk deep into the outlet shaft of Knock Out's cordset. "It's this that won't let you come, not me."
'This' was the reverse-Faraday cage locked around Knock Out's cording, one of the finest implements of sexual torment he'd ever designed and possibly, though it was egotistical to say, his favorite sex toy. From the matrix of fine, flexible struts that could be adjusted to latch around cords of any size or complexity, to the grounding rod that could be extended to fill any shaft as full as possible, to the thick rubber ring that locked down tight at the base of the array, the whole thing was perfectly engineered to prevent the final discharge of overload while maintaining indefinitely a tantalizing state of electrical arousal.
Squirming under Breakdown, Knock Out tried to rut his pendant cordset against his partner's hand. "You're-- hnngh, the one who put this on me!" he snapped.
Breakdown's big fingers wrapped around the entire cage and Knock Out froze, trembling against him as the pressure made his cordset ache. Leaning further forward, Breakdown put his mouth nearly to Knock Out's audial before whispering, "That's 'cause you asked me to."
He withdrew before Knock Out could make an answer to that, but the reminder was grounding, a breath of fresh air in the face of the processor-clouding demands coming from his interface array. He had asked, explicitly, when they were planning out this little interlude; just because he had a love-hate relationship with his favorite toy was no reason to take it out on Breakdown. Slumping down to the surface of the bunk again, Knock Out rested his head gently on the maille beneath him and focused on his venting.
A touch on his hip made him jump a little, but Breakdown's hand was light, and his voice concerned. "You all right, doc?"
Knock Out didn't answer immediately, giving himself a moment more to decompress-- just a little-- and evaluate how he was feeling. Just a few minutes ago his answer might have been different, but now he grinned, and wiggled his back bumper at Breakdown, and said, "Still cobalt, partner."
"Got it," Breakdown said, and didn't show an instant's hesitation as he introduced Knock Out's channel to the bigger, thicker counterpart of the plug filling his waste chute. The invasion, though absolutely not unwelcome, was definitely abrupt, and Knock Out squealed as Breakdown twisted the faux phallus snugly against the ports at the ceiling of his channel and clamped it into place.
"Ahh-- ahhn-- you monster--!" Knock Out panted, scrabbling hand and foot against his restraints as his channel pulsed around the invader. Breakdown had stepped back, allowing Knock Out to buck his hips freely, but without something to buck against, all he could do was just clench helplessly against an unvarying sensation of fullness.
He heard his partner chuckle briefly, then felt Breakdown's hand settle in the space between his biolights at the small of his back. "You look good like this, KO," he said.
"What-- hnhh-- desperate?"
"Desperate for me." There was awe in Breakdown's voice, and his touch was again gentle as he stroked up Knock Out's back.
Knock Out laughed, incredulous after all this time that his partner could still doubt how much he turned him on; the sound trailed off into a moan as Breakdown came around and lifted his head again, and he saw the playful expression on the other cyb's face. Breakdown's strong hands urged him up onto his elbows-- which put him right on eye level with the impressive cordset currently unfurling from his partner's parted pelvic plating.
"Now, I thought I told you to keep it quiet for the troopers," Breakdown said with a wicked grin. "Maybe I better shut you up for a while, huh?"
"Oh, please do," Knock Out said, and opened his mouth eagerly. This was familiar ground for both of them, though made a little awkward by Knock Out's restrained hands-- he would have dearly loved to wrap his fingers around Breakdown's imposing, familiar cords. But this wasn't the first time Knock Out had sucked shaft with his hands bound, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last; he bobbed over the still-swelling set with a will.
Breakdown seemed to have a slightly different idea, though; after a moment his hands settled to Knock Out's helm, urging him with pressure that was at first gentle-- gentle enough to resist-- to take it deeper. So, he wanted to be swallowed instead of sucked? Knock Out could do that, switching his breathing entirely to his dorsal vents and relaxing the valves in his throat as Breakdown's cordset filled it.
"That all right?" Breakdown asked quietly, the pressure relenting for a moment; Knock Out fisted a hand and managed to rap it once against the surface of the berth. Yes, the signal meant, and he reinforced it by starting to swallow with vigor.
"Okay," Breakdown said--or tried to say, the word coming out as a long, drawn-out groan instead. Knock Out smirked around the shaft, and leaned forward as far as his restraints permitted, taking his partner's cording that much deeper.
In any other encounter, he would have happily lingered over this; sucking shaft was an art, and Knock Out considered himself an artist. Right about now, though-- with his own interface array sending him demanding signals for satisfaction and Breakdown's cords tingling in his mouth as they rapidly charged up-- Knock Out was thinking that a quick, hard overload would only be fair in exchange for his own torturously extended one. Optics closed, he ignored the urgent sensations between his legs and focused on working on the valves and calipers of his throat with all the skill he had to bring to bear.
Oh, and it was it having an effect, too-- he could hear Breakdown above him, his vents already cycling hot air in panting bursts, guttural little cries of praise falling out of his mouth. After only a few short minutes-- a new record!-- Breakdown grabbed his helm hard and started thrusting, overcome. This was harder to handle, especially with his head craned back as it was, but the sparks were crackling in such profusion that Knock Out had no doubt--
With a hoarse shout, Breakdown buried his cordset all the way in Knock Out's throat and discharged.
The overload, Knock Out had expected. What he didn't expect was how far the shock reached into him. Breakdown's cords were so deep in his throat that they bypassed the electro-reactive shielding of his mouth; he felt his partner's overload in his own array, a sympathetic feedback intense enough to trigger a discharge of his own. It caught him by surprise, his stuffed channel and chute spasming around the plugs clamped into him, coolant and lube even starting to drool past the grounding rod in his shaft as his cordset danced with sensation. But the reserve-Faraday was still locked into place, still working its relentless magic on him; even as he teetered painfully on the edge of major discharge, so close that the slightest touch would tip him over, the sensation ebbed.
Flush and overheated and still unsatisfied, Knock Out groaned urgently around Breakdown's cordset. His partner was still holding tight to his helm, rolling his hips with slower motions, Knock Out's throat milking the last of the ejecta out of him. "You moan like that, you're gonna make me go again," he warned playfully-- but pulled free with alacrity as Knock Out started knocking on the surface of the berth, multiple impacts signaling he needed a break.
"Hey, what's up?" Breakdown asked, dropping into an easy crouch beside the bunk. Knock Out couldn't answer immediately, too busy licking his lips and swallowing to clear the last of the ejecta from his mouth and throat. Breakdown gave him a moment, reaching up to wipe Knock Out's chin clean with one hand, before prompting, "What's your level?"
"Rhodium," Knock Out said. He leaned into Breakdown's hands, vents laboring in vain to cool his overheating systems. "Get this thing off of me," he begged, "and let me come."
"Yeah, of course," Breakdown said. "Hang on, you wanna be let up first?"
"Please." Part of him badly wanted Breakdown to skip straight to the 'overload' part, but Knock Out knew himself well enough to know that if his partner touched his throbbing array right now, he wouldn't enjoy it. He'd been denied a little too long, the exquisite agony transmuted into real discomfort, and he needed a little downtime.
Grabbing up the shears they'd left out before they started playing, Breakdown snipped quickly through the metal strapping that bound Knock Out, wrists first. When he would have helped him sit up, Knock Out waved him away-- not quite ready to be touched-- so Breakdown focused instead on unbolting the ends of the straps from the bunk and discarding them.
Knock Out had turned over and laid himself out carefully by the time Breakdown returned, his legs spread wide and his cordset bobbing over his ventral plating like a flag. "Take care of this for me?" he asked plaintively, indicating the reverse-Faraday.
"'Course," Breakdown said, serious the way he got sometimes when he was focusing hard on something. His big fingers were nothing but delicate as he unlatched the array of struts and the rubber ring, carefully lifting the whole away and setting it aside. The grounding rod was a separate piece and came out last, withdrawn with all the precision that Breakdown has learned as Knock Out's assistant in the medbay.
As delicate as he was trying to be, though, Knock Out could feel every inch of the rod as it came out, especially the ball at the tip. His vents were laboring again before it was even halfway removed, and sparks flying freely by the time Breakdown eased the thing out of the end of Knock Out's shaft. Vents hissing, Knock Out dug his claws into the maille surface of the bunk and arched his back, his cordset twitching urgently in the air.
"You want me to suck you off?" Breakdown offered, resting one hand lightly on Knock Out's thigh.
"Oh, ohh, please do," Knock Out said, then whined as Breakdown scooped an arm under one of his outflung thighs and pulled him closer. His partner's mouth descending to his cording stifled any complaints Knock Out might have made about the handling, if only by dint of coaxing far more outrageous noises out of him instead. Nor did Knock Out hold back, vociferous in his approval of Breakdown's technique as his partner worked him over with mouth and hand.
Hand, singular, the other at first only supporting Knock Out, but after a minute moving between his legs to unclamp the plug in his channel. The rush of fluid to the compressed mesh of the array was painful enough to make Knock Out squirm, but the way Breakdown started to fuck him with that plug more than made up for it.
He'd been so close to the edge for so long that Breakdown only had to thrust the plug in and out of him a few times before he was coming, the full-array discharge so strong that he writhed against the mesh beneath him, stuffing one fist into his mouth to keep from screaming. He curled up off the surface of the bunk to grapple at Breakdown, holding him in place while he rocked frantically between his partner's mouth and the pressure of his hand. Anchored against the other cyb, Knock Out bucked his hips until the last of the sparks finally spent themselves, honestly this time, and his array was able to flush spent coolant and lubricant without instantly beginning to engorge again.
Exhausted, Knock Out loosed his grip on Breakdown and collapsed back to the bunk, unsurprised to find himself trembling. Breakdown straightened up, giving his shoulders a roll, then hovered a hand over Knock Out's chest.
"You're venting really hot, doc," he said. "You want some water?"
"Mm." Knock Out managed a nod, though the effort felt monumental, and somehow succeeded in pushing himself back up to a sitting position as Breakdown went away and returned with a basin in his hands. At his second nod, the bigger cyb upended the bowl over Knock Out's head and shoulders. The water boiled away from him in huge, roiling clouds of steam-- Primus, he really was overheated, wasn't he?
But the dousing took the worst edge of it off, and Knock Out found himself able to ease the cycling of his vents easier as the steam dissipated. "Thank you, my dear," he murmured, smiling up at Breakdown.
"No problem." His partner returned the smile, then set the bowl aside and came to offer Knock Out his hands. "Washracks?"
"Definitely." Knock Out accepted his grip-- and the other cyb's support as his knees proved not yet recovered enough to support his weight. He leaned on Breakdown's arm, and was glad again that they'd been able to requisition quarters with an en suite washrack. He didn't have far to hobble at all, and it was easy for Breakdown to bring in a stool to sit on.
No matter what form their dalliances together took-- whether they were kinky or not, whether it was Breakdown on top or Knock Out, whether they were rushed or able to linger-- showering together after was a comforting, indulgent routine that they only skipped under duress. It was extremely pleasant to be able to lean against the wall and rest, leaving it to Breakdown to get everything ready. Knock Out settled back, struts and actuators relaxing with a hiss, and let his eyes close, just for a minute...
It wasn't until Breakdown was shaking him awake again that Knock Out realized just how drained their session had left him. He struggled blearily awake, blinking dully at Breakdown, who was shiny and dripping in the washrack's overhead lights. "Did you shower without me?" he blurted.
Breakdown withdrew a little, frowning. "I just rinsed off some," he said. "I didn't wanna wake you up right away, I figured you were pretty tired? Since you went into standby and all."
"I didn't mean to!" Knock Out heaved himself to his feet, feeling acutely embarrassed. "It just-- happened." The wounded look on Breakdown's face deflated him, and he smiled at the bigger cyb, patting his arm. "You wore me out, partner."
It was meant as praise, but Breakdown didn't seem to take it as such. He turned away, his shoulders hunched. "Didn't mean to," he muttered, tossing Knock Out's words back at him before retreating back into the running shower.
Knock Out followed after him, the restricted space in the stall making it very easy to lay hands on him. Breakdown turned and wrapped him up in his arms, pulling him close. He didn't say anything, and Knock Out wasn't sure how to break the silence.
Breakdown did it for him. "Are you okay?"
Considering he'd been just about to ask that himself, the question bemused him. "Yes. I am." He peered up at Breakdown, his optics slitted against the spray. "You know," he said slowly, "you don't have to ask all the time. You know you can count on me to safeword if I want to stop."
Apparently, he'd accurately pinpointed the source of the other cyb's distress; Breakdown flinched back from him, as far as he could, and looked away. "I know that!" he protested. "I know. I just..." He fell silent, expression closed off; Knock Out didn't press him. Eventually, the bigger cyb started again, his voice low and wretched. "It didn't seem like you were having fun, and I didn't want-- I wasn't sure--" He seized Knock Out's arms abruptly, meeting his optics with his own burning bright. "I don't wanna hurt you. Ever."
As Knock Out had been hurt by unscrupulous partners in the past, before Breakdown. The other cyb knew about his history, although Knock Out had shared very few details; it wasn't exactly something he wanted to relive. Still, he could see that what little he had told to Breakdown had taken root, and if anything, that made him appreciate the bigger cyb even more than he already did.
Reaching up, Knock Out drew Breakdown's face down to his and kissed him briefly. "You didn't," he promised, letting him straighten up again. "I loved it."
"I've never seen you like that before," Breakdown said, his voice very quiet.
"That's because you and I have never played that hard before," Knock Out said, matter-of-fact. Breakdown's experience with kink had been limited before he started 'facing with Knock Out, and dom-- the way Knock Out liked to be dominated-- wasn't a role his partner took on easily or often. They had been a long time working up to a session of this intensity, and obviously it had had quite an impact on Breakdown despite their preparations.
It was Knock Out's turn to wrap his arms around Breakdown, although they didn't fit nearly so far as Breakdown's did around him. He wasn't surprised at all to find the bigger mech trembling. "Ahh, Breakdown," he breathed. "It's all right. I'm all right, I promise you." With gentle but insistent pressure he urged Breakdown out of the washrack, urging him to a seat on the low stool. He wrapped his arms this time around Breakdown's neck, holding him as the bigger cyb turned his face against Knock Out's chest and clung to him.
"'M sorry," Breakdown muttered. "Sorry, I don't know-- I ain't usually like this, you know that--"
"Shh," Knock Out soothed. "I know. It's all right. I'm all right, and you'll be all right." He waited until Breakdown's grip on him loosened, then eased him back a little to look him in the eye. "We're going to talk about how this went later, hm? You and I, what worked for us, and what didn't, before we do anything like this again. Sound good?"
"Yeah," Breakdown said softly. "That sounds real good." He hesitated again, chewing his lip for a moment, then reached up to cup Knock Out's face with one hand. "You sure I didn't hurt you...?" he asked, almost helplessly.
Knock Out took Breakdown's hand in both of his, and kissed it square on the palm. "No more than I wanted to be," he assured him, and smiled.
He'd long known that Breakdown was a maestro with his mouth, of course, but this time around his partner was really outdoing himself. Mercilessly Breakdown sucked at the fluid-flush mesh rim of Knock Out's interface channel; unbearable were his dentals on the engorged nub of Knock Out's anchor node; his talented tongue was a torment as it probed into Knock Out's grasping conduit. Whining deep in his throat, Knock Out tried to grind back against Breakdown's face, aching for more contact, for sparking friction,for deeper penetration-- but he could barely move. His partner's huge hands were like clamps on his hips, holding him in place just as effectively as the restraint straps that pinned his wrists and ankles to the maille-covered surface of their bunk.
He twitched his hips against the restraining hands as Breakdown's face lifted away from his interface array. For a moment he thought his pleas for penetration were going to be answered; Breakdown's huge fingers replaced his mouth at the entrance to Knock Out's channel, pressing lightly against hot metal. He would have happily impaled himself on them then and there, but Breakdown's other hand on his hip prevented him still from doing anything more than just trembling helplessly as those blunt fingertips probed at his entrance. Slowly, slowly, Breakdown dragged a single fingertip around Knock Out's swollen rim, little static sparks jumping between his digit and the slick metal-mesh; when he reached the anchor node, he flicked it, and the sharp shock of discharge from nub to fingertip made Knock Out yelp. He felt it all the way inside, an actinic tingle that made the walls of his channel ripple and his cordset jerk in its cage; it was enough to make him groan, his own sharp fingertips scrabbling helplessly at the slightly-yielding maille beneath his bolted-down hands.
"Breakdown, please," he said, a crackling touch of audio static burring his voice to match the electrical static flickering between his legs.
The bigger cyb didn't answer with words. Instead, Knock Out felt a finger finally push inside him, and he could have sobbed with relief-- and did sob when the digit penetrated no further than the first knuckle.
"Breakdown!" he cried, somewhere between admonitory and pleading.
His partner ignored him in favor of fitting another fingertip in beside the first, pushing no deeper but stretching at least the rim of Knock Out's channel deliciously. Thighs trembling, Knock Out tried to hold still, be patient, be good, but when Breakdown worked a third finger in beside the other two, his control broke. He rocked in the restraints, trying to drive his hips down on the other cyb's hand.
"Hey, none of that," Breakdown said, his voice stern. He slipped his fingers free. "I thought I told you not to move?"
Head drooping between his shoulder armor, Knock Out grunted reluctant assent.
"That's right," Breakdown said, and then added after an uncertain, stretching pause, "So you, uh, just wait." And then he flicked Knock Out's anchor node again, hard; this time the jolt made Knock Out howl, his channel spasming despite the lack of further stimulation, coolant starting to flush and leak down his thighs. It wasn't until the charge dissipated itself against the reverse-Faraday locked around his cordset that torment eased, and even then he was still preoccupied by the throbbing ache of his largely undischarged array.
So preoccupied was he, he didn't even notice that Breakdown had moved until his partner was in front of him, tilting his head up until their optics met. "Hey, doc," he said, his voice quiet but intense, "gimme an element."
It took Knock Out a moment to find coherence enough to answer. "Nn-- cobalt, Breakdown," he managed. "Cobalt. Don't stop."
"You sure?"
Turning his head, Knock Out lipped at Breakdown's thumb. "Yessss," he breathed, his vents hissing along with the sibilance of the word as he drew it out. He wriggled, as sultry as a cyb bound on his hands and knees could wriggle, and moaned shamelessly as his cordset bobbed between his legs. "Positive."
Breakdown hesitated a moment longer, searching his optics earnestly before he finally released Knock Out and straightened up. He gave a short little nod, then seemed to gather himself, shoulders pulling back and his expression becoming determined. He stepped around the worktable again, passing out of Knock Out's line of sight, and not being able to turn and see him made the anticipation of what Breakdown might do next all the more keen.
His partner made him wait for it, too. Knock Out could hear him behind, the little hums and clatters as he moved around, apparently preparing-- hopefully preparing-- please let him be preparing something good--
And Breakdown didn't disappoint. He grabbed Knock Out's hip with one hand and with one finger of the other probed deep and rough into his ready channel. Knock Out crowed with delight, and again louder as Breakdown ground a knuckle against his anchor node.
The finger slid free just as abruptly as it had entered. "Shh," Breakdown commanded him. "You don't want the troopers gossiping, do you?"
Well, the troopers would gossip no matter what, even if their respect for Breakdown would keep that gossip from becoming too malicious, but Knock Out bit his lip and tried to swallow his cries anyway. This was all part of the game and he was perfectly willing to play it. His partner wasn't going to make it easy on him, though; when the digit returned, it wasn't to Knock Out's slick and inviting channel, but instead to probe at waste chute entrance adjacent. He went slowly, coaxing his slick digit inside with a slow but inexorable pressure while Knock Out gnawed his lip and tried to keep himself only to whimpering. While Knock Out would much rather have felt the stretch of Breakdown's big cordset buried deep in his channel, any kind of pressure was welcome right now, and he squeezed his partner's finger approvingly.
Nor did Breakdown disappoint him, single digit withdrawing almost all the way but only so a second could join it, the pair driving inexorably up into him. That would have been maddening enough on its own; when Breakdown started to scissor, Knock Out slumped down from his elbows, shoulders collapsing to the surface of the bunk and his whole body starting to shake. He turned his face against the maille of the bunk's surface beneath him and let it absorb his moans as Breakdown relentlessly opened the valve that capped his waste chute.
Paradoxically, the attention to his chute only seemed to be charging his interface array up more. Knock Out knew, academically, that the systems that controlled the one were only peripherally entangled with the other, but that didn't stop his interface channel from cycling in time to the movement of Breakdown's fingers. Chute-play wasn't usually enough to get him off, but he could feel the charge building precipitously as Breakdown worked his fingers in and out, in and out, static playing back and forth between his digits and Knock Out's plating, a telling lead-up to--
Breakdown pulling his fingers free completely.
Face still turned into the maille, Knock Out saw fit to yowl his displeasure, knowing that the bunk would muffle the sound. Still, he heard Breakdown tsk disapprovingly behind him.
"That's not quiet, doc," he said, his voice chiding. "Try and hold it in a little, huh?" he added, but even as he was saying it he was sliding a plug into Knock Out's gaping chute, huge and cold and burning delightfully as it forced the already-stretched valve open further, and Knock Out was having a very hard time obeying Breakdown's command.
Then the plug clicked into place with half a dozen pinprick shocks as it clamped onto the rim of Knock Out's valve. He didn't usually come from chute-play but he sure was discharging now, his waste chute squeezing the bulbous intruder and his interface channel squeezing nothing at all, but putting forth a valiant effort anyway. He could feel the distinctive sensation of static microbolts crackling along his plating, the charge traversing the array to his cordset-- where the reverse-Faraday caging him dispersed it harmlessly, thwarting the blinding total discharge of Knock Out's major overload.
Knock Out cried out again, hands fisting impotently in the restraints. "Breakdown-- please, you're killing me here--!"
"Nah." Breakdown leaned over him from behind, close enough to tease Knock Out's agonizingly sensitive array, not close enough for the contact-friction-charge that the littler grounder desperately craved. Supporting himself on one hand, Breakdown reached with the other to play with the protruding end of the grounding rod sunk deep into the outlet shaft of Knock Out's cordset. "It's this that won't let you come, not me."
'This' was the reverse-Faraday cage locked around Knock Out's cording, one of the finest implements of sexual torment he'd ever designed and possibly, though it was egotistical to say, his favorite sex toy. From the matrix of fine, flexible struts that could be adjusted to latch around cords of any size or complexity, to the grounding rod that could be extended to fill any shaft as full as possible, to the thick rubber ring that locked down tight at the base of the array, the whole thing was perfectly engineered to prevent the final discharge of overload while maintaining indefinitely a tantalizing state of electrical arousal.
Squirming under Breakdown, Knock Out tried to rut his pendant cordset against his partner's hand. "You're-- hnngh, the one who put this on me!" he snapped.
Breakdown's big fingers wrapped around the entire cage and Knock Out froze, trembling against him as the pressure made his cordset ache. Leaning further forward, Breakdown put his mouth nearly to Knock Out's audial before whispering, "That's 'cause you asked me to."
He withdrew before Knock Out could make an answer to that, but the reminder was grounding, a breath of fresh air in the face of the processor-clouding demands coming from his interface array. He had asked, explicitly, when they were planning out this little interlude; just because he had a love-hate relationship with his favorite toy was no reason to take it out on Breakdown. Slumping down to the surface of the bunk again, Knock Out rested his head gently on the maille beneath him and focused on his venting.
A touch on his hip made him jump a little, but Breakdown's hand was light, and his voice concerned. "You all right, doc?"
Knock Out didn't answer immediately, giving himself a moment more to decompress-- just a little-- and evaluate how he was feeling. Just a few minutes ago his answer might have been different, but now he grinned, and wiggled his back bumper at Breakdown, and said, "Still cobalt, partner."
"Got it," Breakdown said, and didn't show an instant's hesitation as he introduced Knock Out's channel to the bigger, thicker counterpart of the plug filling his waste chute. The invasion, though absolutely not unwelcome, was definitely abrupt, and Knock Out squealed as Breakdown twisted the faux phallus snugly against the ports at the ceiling of his channel and clamped it into place.
"Ahh-- ahhn-- you monster--!" Knock Out panted, scrabbling hand and foot against his restraints as his channel pulsed around the invader. Breakdown had stepped back, allowing Knock Out to buck his hips freely, but without something to buck against, all he could do was just clench helplessly against an unvarying sensation of fullness.
He heard his partner chuckle briefly, then felt Breakdown's hand settle in the space between his biolights at the small of his back. "You look good like this, KO," he said.
"What-- hnhh-- desperate?"
"Desperate for me." There was awe in Breakdown's voice, and his touch was again gentle as he stroked up Knock Out's back.
Knock Out laughed, incredulous after all this time that his partner could still doubt how much he turned him on; the sound trailed off into a moan as Breakdown came around and lifted his head again, and he saw the playful expression on the other cyb's face. Breakdown's strong hands urged him up onto his elbows-- which put him right on eye level with the impressive cordset currently unfurling from his partner's parted pelvic plating.
"Now, I thought I told you to keep it quiet for the troopers," Breakdown said with a wicked grin. "Maybe I better shut you up for a while, huh?"
"Oh, please do," Knock Out said, and opened his mouth eagerly. This was familiar ground for both of them, though made a little awkward by Knock Out's restrained hands-- he would have dearly loved to wrap his fingers around Breakdown's imposing, familiar cords. But this wasn't the first time Knock Out had sucked shaft with his hands bound, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last; he bobbed over the still-swelling set with a will.
Breakdown seemed to have a slightly different idea, though; after a moment his hands settled to Knock Out's helm, urging him with pressure that was at first gentle-- gentle enough to resist-- to take it deeper. So, he wanted to be swallowed instead of sucked? Knock Out could do that, switching his breathing entirely to his dorsal vents and relaxing the valves in his throat as Breakdown's cordset filled it.
"That all right?" Breakdown asked quietly, the pressure relenting for a moment; Knock Out fisted a hand and managed to rap it once against the surface of the berth. Yes, the signal meant, and he reinforced it by starting to swallow with vigor.
"Okay," Breakdown said--or tried to say, the word coming out as a long, drawn-out groan instead. Knock Out smirked around the shaft, and leaned forward as far as his restraints permitted, taking his partner's cording that much deeper.
In any other encounter, he would have happily lingered over this; sucking shaft was an art, and Knock Out considered himself an artist. Right about now, though-- with his own interface array sending him demanding signals for satisfaction and Breakdown's cords tingling in his mouth as they rapidly charged up-- Knock Out was thinking that a quick, hard overload would only be fair in exchange for his own torturously extended one. Optics closed, he ignored the urgent sensations between his legs and focused on working on the valves and calipers of his throat with all the skill he had to bring to bear.
Oh, and it was it having an effect, too-- he could hear Breakdown above him, his vents already cycling hot air in panting bursts, guttural little cries of praise falling out of his mouth. After only a few short minutes-- a new record!-- Breakdown grabbed his helm hard and started thrusting, overcome. This was harder to handle, especially with his head craned back as it was, but the sparks were crackling in such profusion that Knock Out had no doubt--
With a hoarse shout, Breakdown buried his cordset all the way in Knock Out's throat and discharged.
The overload, Knock Out had expected. What he didn't expect was how far the shock reached into him. Breakdown's cords were so deep in his throat that they bypassed the electro-reactive shielding of his mouth; he felt his partner's overload in his own array, a sympathetic feedback intense enough to trigger a discharge of his own. It caught him by surprise, his stuffed channel and chute spasming around the plugs clamped into him, coolant and lube even starting to drool past the grounding rod in his shaft as his cordset danced with sensation. But the reserve-Faraday was still locked into place, still working its relentless magic on him; even as he teetered painfully on the edge of major discharge, so close that the slightest touch would tip him over, the sensation ebbed.
Flush and overheated and still unsatisfied, Knock Out groaned urgently around Breakdown's cordset. His partner was still holding tight to his helm, rolling his hips with slower motions, Knock Out's throat milking the last of the ejecta out of him. "You moan like that, you're gonna make me go again," he warned playfully-- but pulled free with alacrity as Knock Out started knocking on the surface of the berth, multiple impacts signaling he needed a break.
"Hey, what's up?" Breakdown asked, dropping into an easy crouch beside the bunk. Knock Out couldn't answer immediately, too busy licking his lips and swallowing to clear the last of the ejecta from his mouth and throat. Breakdown gave him a moment, reaching up to wipe Knock Out's chin clean with one hand, before prompting, "What's your level?"
"Rhodium," Knock Out said. He leaned into Breakdown's hands, vents laboring in vain to cool his overheating systems. "Get this thing off of me," he begged, "and let me come."
"Yeah, of course," Breakdown said. "Hang on, you wanna be let up first?"
"Please." Part of him badly wanted Breakdown to skip straight to the 'overload' part, but Knock Out knew himself well enough to know that if his partner touched his throbbing array right now, he wouldn't enjoy it. He'd been denied a little too long, the exquisite agony transmuted into real discomfort, and he needed a little downtime.
Grabbing up the shears they'd left out before they started playing, Breakdown snipped quickly through the metal strapping that bound Knock Out, wrists first. When he would have helped him sit up, Knock Out waved him away-- not quite ready to be touched-- so Breakdown focused instead on unbolting the ends of the straps from the bunk and discarding them.
Knock Out had turned over and laid himself out carefully by the time Breakdown returned, his legs spread wide and his cordset bobbing over his ventral plating like a flag. "Take care of this for me?" he asked plaintively, indicating the reverse-Faraday.
"'Course," Breakdown said, serious the way he got sometimes when he was focusing hard on something. His big fingers were nothing but delicate as he unlatched the array of struts and the rubber ring, carefully lifting the whole away and setting it aside. The grounding rod was a separate piece and came out last, withdrawn with all the precision that Breakdown has learned as Knock Out's assistant in the medbay.
As delicate as he was trying to be, though, Knock Out could feel every inch of the rod as it came out, especially the ball at the tip. His vents were laboring again before it was even halfway removed, and sparks flying freely by the time Breakdown eased the thing out of the end of Knock Out's shaft. Vents hissing, Knock Out dug his claws into the maille surface of the bunk and arched his back, his cordset twitching urgently in the air.
"You want me to suck you off?" Breakdown offered, resting one hand lightly on Knock Out's thigh.
"Oh, ohh, please do," Knock Out said, then whined as Breakdown scooped an arm under one of his outflung thighs and pulled him closer. His partner's mouth descending to his cording stifled any complaints Knock Out might have made about the handling, if only by dint of coaxing far more outrageous noises out of him instead. Nor did Knock Out hold back, vociferous in his approval of Breakdown's technique as his partner worked him over with mouth and hand.
Hand, singular, the other at first only supporting Knock Out, but after a minute moving between his legs to unclamp the plug in his channel. The rush of fluid to the compressed mesh of the array was painful enough to make Knock Out squirm, but the way Breakdown started to fuck him with that plug more than made up for it.
He'd been so close to the edge for so long that Breakdown only had to thrust the plug in and out of him a few times before he was coming, the full-array discharge so strong that he writhed against the mesh beneath him, stuffing one fist into his mouth to keep from screaming. He curled up off the surface of the bunk to grapple at Breakdown, holding him in place while he rocked frantically between his partner's mouth and the pressure of his hand. Anchored against the other cyb, Knock Out bucked his hips until the last of the sparks finally spent themselves, honestly this time, and his array was able to flush spent coolant and lubricant without instantly beginning to engorge again.
Exhausted, Knock Out loosed his grip on Breakdown and collapsed back to the bunk, unsurprised to find himself trembling. Breakdown straightened up, giving his shoulders a roll, then hovered a hand over Knock Out's chest.
"You're venting really hot, doc," he said. "You want some water?"
"Mm." Knock Out managed a nod, though the effort felt monumental, and somehow succeeded in pushing himself back up to a sitting position as Breakdown went away and returned with a basin in his hands. At his second nod, the bigger cyb upended the bowl over Knock Out's head and shoulders. The water boiled away from him in huge, roiling clouds of steam-- Primus, he really was overheated, wasn't he?
But the dousing took the worst edge of it off, and Knock Out found himself able to ease the cycling of his vents easier as the steam dissipated. "Thank you, my dear," he murmured, smiling up at Breakdown.
"No problem." His partner returned the smile, then set the bowl aside and came to offer Knock Out his hands. "Washracks?"
"Definitely." Knock Out accepted his grip-- and the other cyb's support as his knees proved not yet recovered enough to support his weight. He leaned on Breakdown's arm, and was glad again that they'd been able to requisition quarters with an en suite washrack. He didn't have far to hobble at all, and it was easy for Breakdown to bring in a stool to sit on.
No matter what form their dalliances together took-- whether they were kinky or not, whether it was Breakdown on top or Knock Out, whether they were rushed or able to linger-- showering together after was a comforting, indulgent routine that they only skipped under duress. It was extremely pleasant to be able to lean against the wall and rest, leaving it to Breakdown to get everything ready. Knock Out settled back, struts and actuators relaxing with a hiss, and let his eyes close, just for a minute...
It wasn't until Breakdown was shaking him awake again that Knock Out realized just how drained their session had left him. He struggled blearily awake, blinking dully at Breakdown, who was shiny and dripping in the washrack's overhead lights. "Did you shower without me?" he blurted.
Breakdown withdrew a little, frowning. "I just rinsed off some," he said. "I didn't wanna wake you up right away, I figured you were pretty tired? Since you went into standby and all."
"I didn't mean to!" Knock Out heaved himself to his feet, feeling acutely embarrassed. "It just-- happened." The wounded look on Breakdown's face deflated him, and he smiled at the bigger cyb, patting his arm. "You wore me out, partner."
It was meant as praise, but Breakdown didn't seem to take it as such. He turned away, his shoulders hunched. "Didn't mean to," he muttered, tossing Knock Out's words back at him before retreating back into the running shower.
Knock Out followed after him, the restricted space in the stall making it very easy to lay hands on him. Breakdown turned and wrapped him up in his arms, pulling him close. He didn't say anything, and Knock Out wasn't sure how to break the silence.
Breakdown did it for him. "Are you okay?"
Considering he'd been just about to ask that himself, the question bemused him. "Yes. I am." He peered up at Breakdown, his optics slitted against the spray. "You know," he said slowly, "you don't have to ask all the time. You know you can count on me to safeword if I want to stop."
Apparently, he'd accurately pinpointed the source of the other cyb's distress; Breakdown flinched back from him, as far as he could, and looked away. "I know that!" he protested. "I know. I just..." He fell silent, expression closed off; Knock Out didn't press him. Eventually, the bigger cyb started again, his voice low and wretched. "It didn't seem like you were having fun, and I didn't want-- I wasn't sure--" He seized Knock Out's arms abruptly, meeting his optics with his own burning bright. "I don't wanna hurt you. Ever."
As Knock Out had been hurt by unscrupulous partners in the past, before Breakdown. The other cyb knew about his history, although Knock Out had shared very few details; it wasn't exactly something he wanted to relive. Still, he could see that what little he had told to Breakdown had taken root, and if anything, that made him appreciate the bigger cyb even more than he already did.
Reaching up, Knock Out drew Breakdown's face down to his and kissed him briefly. "You didn't," he promised, letting him straighten up again. "I loved it."
"I've never seen you like that before," Breakdown said, his voice very quiet.
"That's because you and I have never played that hard before," Knock Out said, matter-of-fact. Breakdown's experience with kink had been limited before he started 'facing with Knock Out, and dom-- the way Knock Out liked to be dominated-- wasn't a role his partner took on easily or often. They had been a long time working up to a session of this intensity, and obviously it had had quite an impact on Breakdown despite their preparations.
It was Knock Out's turn to wrap his arms around Breakdown, although they didn't fit nearly so far as Breakdown's did around him. He wasn't surprised at all to find the bigger mech trembling. "Ahh, Breakdown," he breathed. "It's all right. I'm all right, I promise you." With gentle but insistent pressure he urged Breakdown out of the washrack, urging him to a seat on the low stool. He wrapped his arms this time around Breakdown's neck, holding him as the bigger cyb turned his face against Knock Out's chest and clung to him.
"'M sorry," Breakdown muttered. "Sorry, I don't know-- I ain't usually like this, you know that--"
"Shh," Knock Out soothed. "I know. It's all right. I'm all right, and you'll be all right." He waited until Breakdown's grip on him loosened, then eased him back a little to look him in the eye. "We're going to talk about how this went later, hm? You and I, what worked for us, and what didn't, before we do anything like this again. Sound good?"
"Yeah," Breakdown said softly. "That sounds real good." He hesitated again, chewing his lip for a moment, then reached up to cup Knock Out's face with one hand. "You sure I didn't hurt you...?" he asked, almost helplessly.
Knock Out took Breakdown's hand in both of his, and kissed it square on the palm. "No more than I wanted to be," he assured him, and smiled.