InsaneJournal

Current mood:	sad
Current music:	A Man Needs A Woman Or A Man To Be A Man - Bill Callahan
Entry tags:	fanfic, slash, smut, transformers

Galvatron/Rodimus pointless smut thing
For (lj)vani_nessa, who bunnied me. And because I needed to cheer myself up.

***

"What are you writing on me?"

Galvatron grasped Rodimus's helm and forcibly turned him back around, snarling a wordless warning. "It's a secret," he clarified, and like always, Rodimus sighed to himself and let Galvatron have his way.

Or tried to, at least. The paint the Decepticon was using to mark his spoiler was energon-based, the better to lick it off afterwards, and it tingled against his sensors most distractingly. Rodimus rested his head in his arms, folded over the arm of Galvatron's lounging couch, and tried to stay still.

Patience under stimulation was not his strong suit.

Fortunately, it wasn't Galvatron's either; with a declaration of "Good enough!" Galvatron thrust his brush into its holder and sat back to examine his handiwork. "Good enough," he repeated, voice rich with proprietary satisfaction. Rodimus wriggled again, the weight of the warlord's regard as uncomfortable as the energon paint itself, and turned his head to peek up at his lover-slash-rival.

"Just good enough?" he asked.

Galvatron laughed. "Fishing for compliments, Prime?" He leaned in, toying with the edges of Rodimus's spoiler. "You are beautiful to behold, my Chosen One," he purred, and Rodimus shivered all over. "Beautiful and strong. You are truly the only one worthy to be called my rival."

Rodimus hid his face behind his arm. "And you're a seductive liar."

Galvatron scowled, his mood going from almost-amiable to stormy in an instant. "You doubt the word of Galvatron?" he thundered, turning Rodimus around to face him. "Or- do you doubt yourself again, Prime?"

Rodimus shook his head apologetically. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"No. Either way, it's unacceptable and it stops now!" Galvatron thrust the energon brush, dripping with crystal liquid, into Rodimus's hand. "Write it down, Rodimus. Your spark's lord commands!"

"Write it...?" Rodimus blinked up at him, uncomprehending. Galvatron tugged his hand closer, tapping it to his chest meaningfully.

"Here is your canvas," Galvatron told him, and though his expression was threatening, his voice had dropped to a purr that beguiled and called the young Prime. Biting his lip, Rodimus obeyed, trailing the brush along the warlord's violet plating. Beautiful, he wrote, and strong, and worthy, and though Galvatron had bestowed those words on him, Rodimus himself was writing them for Galvatron.

"Good enough?" he asked wryly, lifting the brush clear of the last glyph.

Galvatron smirked and pulled him closer, fitting his hand around his lover's helm. "Not quite, Prime. Isn't there something else one does with edible paint?"

Trembling, hurting with need, Rodimus let Galvatron guide his head down. The words he'd written soon disappeared under his glossa in a burst of sweetness, but Rodimus kept licking until Galvatron groaned and dragged hard fingers across his spoiler.

He wondered again what Galvatron had written there, and if it was still readable under Galvatron's hand.