Unexpected Involvement

Frustration was the only word in the English language that Steeljaw felt could begin to do justice to his current state. It was hardly satisfactory, as frustration was typically not the word that came to mind when one was shredding metal just to escape the stress, but he really didn't need anyone to know the specifics of his condition.

It was heat, plain and simple. He knew his body well enough to recognize the urges by now, annoying and debilitating as they were. And while such inconvenient cycles may have been intrinsic to all life from his home world, he felt that his particular case was notably more difficult. He was a Wolficon, and by his very nature said things tended to make him very... feral, when nature decided it was his time. Even now, sealed within the cool, calm confines of his quarters, he could feel his primal urges pulsing. The collected mind of a strategic leader was faint in the wake of his burning, agonizing need. His thoughts swam, but lingered over the tantalizing images of the activity that would bring him relief. Rocking bodies, intertwined legs, scraping metal...

No!

He snarled and dug deep scores into the pavement. He could not afford such mindless distractions at this critical time. Dropping on all fours, he paced about the dark room like a caged dog, trying to shake the tension from his cables. It was only recently that he'd managed to grow his army to a decent size, and he needed a clear processor to control the often less than cooperative soldiers beside him. Primus knew how fatal infighting had proved to the Decepticons... And he needed to keep a keen eye and ear open at all times. Some of them may eventually prove loyal, beyond the usual opportunistic nature of their kind. Thunderhoof was already proving eager to work. Perhaps he'd be equally eager to serve? 

"Weak fool!" he hissed aloud, taking his helm into his hands as he shifted to his knees. Even the brief consideration had sent tingles down his strut and to the fork of his legs.

"No more... No more..." he whispered to himself in a vow. There was no time for this! There were things he needed to attend to, and the brief time he'd already taken to gather his thoughts was too much. He needed to be out and working.

But at that moment, his body no longer cared for his duties. Its needs had been ignored for far too long, and it demanded satisfaction. Heat began radiating from his panel like a fire, the overworked components beneath burning for a release that he had no choice but to give. Whimpering like a youngling at the pain and discomfort, the mech reluctantly submitted and opened his valve covering, exposing himself to the cool air. 

Heated lubricants oozed from the permanently aroused valve, making him shudder as they were exposed to the drafty room. A sense of shame filled him as he dropped a hesitant claw to his entrance, which was quickly overcome by the lightning bolt of pain and pleasure that came from a simple stroke of the metalmesh folds. Propping himself on one arm, he gasped aloud as he tried to massage his way to the anterior node, the overcharged sensors of his valve screaming at him all the while. By Primus, he'd never felt such a torturous or intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain...

"Ahh!" he gasped aloud when he found the sweet spot, his entire body spasming into his hand as it sought the sweet freedom of release. Trembling like a leaf, he went full force on the exposed and tortured node, using his own generous lubricants to speed his touch. Soft cries escaped his muzzle as he worked, every ounce of the proud leader gone as he satisfied the most primal of his needs. Touching his forehelm to the floor, the mech assumed the position for mounting, spreading his hind legs and lifting his tail for easier access. He didn't care who might walk in at that moment, if anyone, so long as they may be tempted to take him from behind. His valve was more than ready, his claws were sliding over it with ease, and the fluid was dribbling down his thighs and dripping to the floor in its over abundance.

No longer able to handle the overload of auxiliary pleasure, his spike popped free of its own accord, dribbling transfluid from its swollen tip. Snarling, Steeljaw used his free arm to take the member into his hand, using his broad shoulders to keep him propped in the aft up position. A full moan slipped from his muzzle as he took the throbbing spike into his other hand, the dual pleasure from both of his stimulated organs almost overwhelming him into shutdown. He found a sloppy but suitable rhythm in no time, thrusting his hips into his hands to simultaneously pleasure both his demanding spike and valve.

The first tingles of the promise of release began to form up in his port, making him double his efforts on the fully engorged node beneath his fingers. At that moment, the image of Thunderhoof behind him became the most tempting fantasy he was capable of conjuring. The powerful mech was one of the few who matched him in physical strength, and the idea of being absolutely dominated so close to his peak was a more than tempting fantasy. He could only imagine a broad, thick spike sliding inside of his eager valve, stretching him and finally appeasing all of the sensory units too deep to reach. The mech behind him would form a rhythm in no time, sliding out only to hammer back in with enough force to make their armor spark, making him cry out as he increased his tempo to form the friction necessary to push them both over the edge...

"Ahh-haa!"

The straggled cry escaped his vocalizer as he finally reached his peak in a rush, his port clamping in a rhythmic and almost violent overload that sent stars exploding before his optics. A few clumsy pumps of his spike gave it the push it needed to do the same, a gush of transfluid firing from the tip and arcing to the floor in messy spurts. His tongue lolled like a dog as he rode on the waves of pure carnal bliss and sweet, simple relief, the aftershocks of his peak pulsing through his body in one long moment of satisfaction.

And then that moment ended.

Reality came back to find him collapsed on the floor, covered in his own fluids and with his aft still in the air. It took a moment for him to find the strength to lift his head from the floor and attempt to right himself, subconsciously dropping his tail to cover himself as trembling arms pushed him onto his hands and knees. 

Deep and unfathomable shame filled him as he returned to a clear state of mind, his lower half still dripping onto the now fluid stained floor.

"Weak." he spat at himself, forcing his still exhausted body to stand. To give in so completely to his body, to be reduced to nothing but a dog in heat, begging for domination... His spark wrenched in absolute humiliation. Grabbing some towels that he kept around his room, he sat beside his mess and began to clean both it and himself.

This was but a moment of weakness Steeljaw. You cannot indulge yourself any further. He'd powered through these cycles before, and he could no doubt to it again. This... release would enable him to face his subordinates more easily, no doubt. Even Thunderhoof. He knew that his fantasies had been nothing more than instinct taking over at the moment of near release, and that they certainly didn't reflect any desires of his own. 

When he was satisfied that none would ever find a trace of his ordeal, he took but a moment to gather himself before leaving. The day would be long and hard, but he was certain that he could get through without incident, and that nothing further would come of his condition.