Well-Shagged Solarflare
Featuring Mirage

Faint traces of shared pleasure flowed between them through the thick cord. Languidly, Flare rose up on one elbow and gently traced the Face of Primus on Mirage’s chest. The spy cracked one sky blue optic and gave a mock groan.

“I surrender, Little One, no more.”

Purring, she reached out and tweaked his nasal ridge, but having never removed her talon-tip from his chest. Up it went, past his neck guard, across his stately chin, then onto his nose. A long, shuddering sigh wracked the Ligier’s chest, and if he’d had organic eyes, they would have rolled up into his skull.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” she teased.

He groaned again, fingers fluttering along the length of cord that connected them. “Uhnng … many times.”

“That you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen?”

The spy blinked, turning his head slightly to nip at her fingertip. “In so many words,” he replied hoarsely, running his tongue over her talon.

Levering herself over his body, she looked down into his pharonic face: grey features framed by an iconic blue helm. “How much do you love me?”

Feebly, Mirage tried to shift away, but it was all in play. “Enough to do you again, once I can feel my lower extremities. I think you drained my auxiliaries, Flare.”

“Good.” Leaning over, she pressed her charcoal lips against his grey ones. She could see it in his optics – the need, the desire, to join with her again. But he just couldn’t. Truthfully, she needed a rest, too. Lowering her frame, she hitched herself under his arm, tucking her chin against his throat latch, quiescent.