✮⋆˙ tarn x overlord x human fem reader 18+
-> warnings/tags: MINORS DNI. dub/non-con, objectification, degradation, voyeurism, megatron is a dick, unwilling cucking, rough sex. 5.4k words.
this exists within the tarn/human storyline i have for all my tarn fics, just for context!! :D (i’ve realised atp i probs should’ve just written a multi-chapter fic for tarn lol)
this is a lil dark in places due to the non/dub-con on overlord’s part, so pls take this as your warning to not proceed with reading this fic if that isn’t smth you’re comfortable with - take care of yourselves <3
It's been about a year since Megatron decided to gift you to Tarn permanently, something that both of you wanted, but wouldn't dare request. Since then, Tarn has shown you all different corners of the galaxies, methodically going about his business in a way where you get to experience the novelties of all the planets without witnessing what his team do.
You know what they do, you aren't stupid. You know it's broadcast, you know there's a list. You've seen Tarn's power in action, but he keeps you shielded from all of it. You are his perfect little lover who he would never put in harms way, no matter what.
Tarn's taloned servos wrap around your waist as your legs are spread over his lap, arms folded around his neck as you have a slow and passionate make-out session with the mech on your shared berth.
Your lips move in tandem as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, trying to tempt him to let you push your tongue into his intake.
"You'll make me late," Tarn protests weakly against your mouth, not truly wanting to part from you.
You smile as you steal more kisses from him whilst running your nails across the wiring at the nape of his neck, barely pausing to reply.
"We'll be quick," you coo sweetly, rolling your hips against him. It's all you want, really. For him to fill you up and leave you stuffed before he has his meeting with Megatron, your former master.
His restraint and self-control are truly commendable, and you'd be delusional to believe that you could break it. When he's on a course, he stays the course, no matter what.
He nips at your lip, stopping your hips so that you can't wind him up, "When I'm back, you can have me until you faint, hm? How about that?"
Your smile turns sultry, eyebrows raising a fraction at the promise he's just made you. He's so good with his words.
"Now I like the sound of that."
"Wonderful," Tarn peppers one last kiss on your lips before prying you off him to sit you down on the berth, "now be good and wait here for me."
"Yes, Sir," you purr as you crawl over to the mess of blankets further up the berth to make yourself comfortable as he stands, shifting back to his full size. He reaches over to the counter to grab his mask before securing it to his faceplate with one servo.
"Say hi to Megatron for me," you call out as you lie down on your front, crossing your arms and resting your cheek on them.
"I will do, little one," Tarn utters before he saunters out of the room to make his audience with Megatron.
There is a smothering atmosphere of violence and capriciousness that clings to every particle in the air of Megatron's throne room.
Megatron, in all his fury, has Tarn's helm under pede, forced down to the floor. More of his faceplate has been torn, accompanied by the order not to have it repaired. This is his punishment. He will wear these injuries to serve as a warning to whoever dares disappoint the Mighty Megatron.
Tarn has bitten off more than he can chew and it resulted in the very order of the DJD to be compromised, the list in jeopardy by Tarn's ego and belief that he is too powerful to be defeated.
"Where is your pet?" Megatron spits, Overlord stood in his shadow with an insufferable grin, glad to see Tarn knocked down a few pegs.
"On the Peaceful Tyranny, my Lord," Tarn answers, voice glitchy as he bears the punishment.
"Overlord, retrieve them," Megatron barks the order, putting more pressure on Tarn's helm, the purple mech biting back the wince that nearly overcame him.
Overlord's optics gleam, shimmering with sadistic and wanton desire. His glossa runs over his dentae, a borderline carnivorous aura rolling off him.
Tarn's spark skips a beat, sensing the predatory EM field that Overlord is emitting.
"My Lord," Tarn speaks, even though he shouldn't have, "please, be reasonable. Allow me to retrieve them."
He will do anything, and he means anything, to ensure that Overlord does not get his servos on you. He's trying his best not to depict himself as too desperate, attempting to mask the fear he has of what Overlord would do to you in the time between collecting you and bringing you here.
Megatron scowls, optics whirring as he considers Tarn's plea.
Releasing his ped, he relents and decides to grant a rare moment of graciousness.
"Bring them here. Immediately."
When Tarn came rushing back to your habsuite, demeanour frantic and sizzled, you knew that something wasn't right. It's unlike Tarn to be so uncollected, his kilter thrown askew. You jumped up when you noticed new facial scarring, concern flooding through your veins like spilled ink.
He grabbed you with what seemed to be little concern for your protests, your babbling of asking him what was wrong as he held you around your waist and left you hanging in his servo as he walked with his arms by his side. As if you were a set of keys, something that wasn't smacking against his digits and demanding he tells you what was going on.
Now, you have a clear understanding of why he didn't tell you what was happening. A part of you thinks that maybe he didn't know exactly what was going on.
Overlord sits in front of you, legs akimbo as he lounges on a large chair, with a high back and broad armrests. You're sitting on your heels, knees bent with your hands clutching the hem of your skirt.
Megatron, Overlord and Tarn are all mass displaced. Tarn is settled some metres behind you, his arms restrained behind his back as he sits on his haunches.
Megatron is stood by your side, a large servo stroking your hair as you stare in horror at the beast that is protruding from Overlord's interface panel. It's thick, angled downwards under the pressure of its own weight. Dark blue in colour featured with purple biolights that run in parallel lines around the width.
"Did you miss me, little star?" Megatron hums charmingly.
Trying to pay attention to your former master, rather than the scene in front of you, you nod but find yourself unable to tear your eyes from Overlord's length.
"I— I missed you dearly, my Master."
"It does my spark good to hear that," Megatron smirks before he tangles his digits into your hair, "I have something I need you to do for me."
Your throat constricts with fear, already knowing what Megatron wants from you. You haven't been told anything, but you've managed to decipher the context clues. Tarn has done something he shouldn't have and Overlord has performed superbly. Thus, you are being offered up as both punishment and reward. Your existence means Megatron can kill two birds with one stone.
"Your fear is so delicious," Overlord licks his derma, spike twitching with thrill.
Megatron pushes your head forward, forcing you to inhale sharply before having your mouth stuffed full. You gag almost immediately, hands shooting up to brace yourself against the seat of the chair. His spike stretches your mouth beyond its capabilities.
Overlord moans, mouth pulled into a satisfied grin. By instinct, you try to pull back, try to fight against the servo that's planting you around Overlord's spike.
"No, starlight, behave," Megatron warns lowly, feeling your resistance. He dangles your pet names in front of you with each sentence, feigning endearment.
You practically sob around Overlord's girth as he starts to grind his hips up, nestling his length further down your throat. You do not attempt to suck him, you won't give him the satisfaction.
He can use you, reclaim his trophy, but you won't reciprocate. Not when the one you love sits behind you, helpless but to watch.
Your eyes water as his tip bullies your throat, stripping you raw as you pitifully drool over him. Megatron keeps your head steady as Overlord fucks your mouth with little care for your well-being. He drives his spike in further than it can realistically go, your body jerking in reaction. There's no room for your cries to be heard, so you squint your eyes shut as hard as you can to bear it. You pray that he finishes quickly, unsure how much you can tolerate.
Tarn watches, his spark twisting with hatred and unease as Overlord looks over your head to make eye contact with him. The smirk plastered on his shitty faceplate is intolerable, and if these were different circumstances, if Megatron was not overseeing this, Tarn would rip the spark from his chest.
Your nails dig into the seat of the chair you're clutching, jaw already starting to go sore as the lecherous sounds of your gags bounce around the room.
"Your little organic mouth is so much better than Cybertronian," Overlord praises, snarking.
"Even if you are refusing to suck me," Overlord adds. Looking down to the top of your head, watching his spike vanish into your mouth at a hammering rate.
It provides Tarn little comfort to know that you aren't sucking, that even in these odds, you are remaining as loyal as you can to him.
"No matter," Overlord continues, clearly loving the sound of his own voice, "I'll fuck your throat until you lose your voice."
Megatron chuckles, looking back at Tarn with a toothy grin.
"You see what happens when you disappoint me, Tarn? I gave them to you, and I can take them away."
Tarn bites his glossa, his rebuttal locked in a vault, banging against the door to be freed. He could so easily get Overlord to stop, he could order it and Overlord would be paralysed, but Megatron's word overrules his own.
Your fingers curl into your palm, blunt nails digging into the flesh as you listen to Megatron tell Tarn that he could take you away from him. It feels as though you're being lowered into a pool of crocodiles, hungry beasts nipping at your feet. The ridges of Overlord's spike run along your tongue and occasionally the roof of your mouth, sure to be bruised come the morning.
Megatron lets go of your head, which has you briefly believing you have the opportunity to pull away. Your hopes are burnt to cinders as Overlord grabs the sides of your head with both servos, easily forcing you to bob your head up and down as his derma twitch.
A throaty moan leaves Overlord, your throat a heavenly feeling around his monstrous spike. If he can't take you from Tarn, he'll have to find a human of his own after this.
Unrelenting in his pace, he sighs as his overload takes him, spurts of pink spraying into your mouth and throat. His hips don't still, causing the liquid to splatter messily over him and your clothes.
Somehow, he still got a remarkable amount in your mouth. He yanks your head off his spike, your watery eyes trailing up slowly to look at him with disgust and disdain. His transfluid dribbles from your lips, not having swallowed anything you weren't forced to.
"My my, you do have a loyal pet, Tarn," Overlord chuckles as he takes in your unhappy face, "they're practically snarling at me."
Leaning forward with his servos still cupping either side of your face, he gets dangerously close to your lips. You squirm, your hands shooting up to splay over his faceplate, trying to resist him.
"No!" You shout, "Don't you dare!"
Overlord chuckles again as your hands push against him, "I think we're past that, little one. You don't want a kiss from me?"
"I'll spit in your face if you try," you threaten, using all your might to push him away and pull yourself back, trying to get as far from him as possible.
Megatron smirks as he watches the display. Being with Tarn has not dulled your fire, which he's glad to see.
Overlord pouts mockingly, "Aw, that's too bad."
Megatron steps behind you, crouching to swallow you in his shadow. Tarn's view of you is now completely obstructed.
The next thing he hears is the tearing of fabric. Clawed servos pulling your silken dress into ribbons, Megatron ensuring that you're completely bare for the next act. The sound causes you to tremble, your body quickly becoming exposed.
"Up you get," Megatron prompts, wrapping his servos around each of your upper arms. Even mass-displaced, the long claws clutch the entire width. He hoists you up, the scraps of your dress falling off you pitifully to leave you standing in front of Overlord in nothing but your panties.
You know better than to resist Megatron, but it doesn't stop the sharp breaths forced from your nose as you try to clamp your mouth shut in hopes that it will conceal any weakness that coughs up from you.
"Do I need to remind you again to behave?" Megatron growls lowly into your ear, looking over your shoulder to the ever arrogant Overlord.
You shake your head sternly, "No, Master."
"Good," he tuts before letting Overlord yank your underwear down your legs, pooling at your ankles. You're shoved towards Overlord, who leans forward to wrap his servos around your waist. He inspects your cunt before trailing his eyes up to your hardened nipples, thanks to the cold temperature of the room.
"You don't wanna kiss me, fine," Overlord remarks before spinning you around, Megatron side-stepping out of the way so that you have a clear view of Tarn. And he has a clear view of you.
"You can face him whilst I fuck you instead," Overlord tugs you back.
This is beyond sadistic. To fuck you in front of your love, to make the two of you watch each other, cruel is not a sufficient word.
"Get on," he orders clearly. Megatron has already warned you to behave, so he knows you'll comply.
Lifting your leg, you slide it back until your foot hits the backrest of the chair. You do the same with your other leg, using Overlord's grip on you as support. Your back meets his chassis as you take your seat, your eyes looking anywhere but at Tarn.
Overlord's left arm wraps around your middle as he brings his right servo up to his lip, spitting a healthy amount of oral lubricant onto two digits. How charming.
His digits dive down until they curl around to find your entrance, the tips of them stroking the lubricant over your hole to prep you. If you could call it that.
Your jaw tenses as you feel him vent, the same hand that just lubricated you coming forward to wrap around the base of his spike.
Lining himself with your hole, he forces you down slowly. Your cunt stretches over his tip, a closed-mouth grunt rumbling at the back of your throat. Overlord looks over your shoulder to Tarn, making sure he meets his optics as he lowers you on his spike. It's a struggle, a tight fit without any real preparation.
You meet the base of him with suspended breath, your hands reaching for the armrests so that you're not touching this villain any more than you need to be.
Both of his servos have now opted to settle on your hips, gripping the flesh harshly before he starts to move you up and down. Your head drops, biting the inside of your mouth as Overlord uses you in a way that he likes. He gives you no time to adjust, he just starts a heavy pace right out of the gates.
A satisfied moan parts his derma, legs spreading a fraction wider as he bounces you with ease. His slimy glossa drags up the dip of your spine, making you squeal as you try to arch your back to get away from him.
"Why am I being punished, Master?" You ask pathetically towards the floor, hoping that Megatron doesn't take it as a sign of disrespect.
"Punished?" Megatron echoes, "Oh no, starlight, this isn't your punishment. It's Tarn's," Megatron replies, reasoning with you. It sure feels like punishment for you too, but you suppose he wouldn't see it that way. You're just a tool, something to be utilised. You fear that if you fight back, Tarn will be punished far worse. So, you remain complacent.
Your thighs jiggle each time you're slammed back down, raspy breaths shaking out of your mouth as you keep your eyes to the floor. Tarn is telepathically trying to send you all the coddling and comfort that he can, silently trying to reassure you that this will be over soon enough and you'll be back with him.
Overlord's spike is unyielding, bulldozing through your walls with little consideration for anything but his own pleasure. You're a sex doll, propped up on his lap whilst he lets your natural lubricant coat his spike, making each glide easier than the last. He knew you'd warm up to him eventually.
Meek moans ripple in your mouth, your brows creasing at the stinging of your ass being smacked against solid metal repeatedly. You'll be bruised come the morning, and if you know Tarn as well as you think you do, you imagine that he will inflict his own bruises on you to cover them.
"What's that?" Overlord mocks, one servo leaving your hip to snake around and grab your jaw, forcing your head up to look at Tarn, "moan louder, so that he can hear you."
He's a vicious serpent who winds tighter just to hear the struggle, entirely self-serving and nasty. Tarn looks distant behind his mask, likely checked out so that he doesn't have to witness this any further. He did always say that he liked the mask so that no one could see when he wasn't looking. It's unfathomable how badly Tarn wants to run to you and pull you off Overlord, shielding you to protect you from this sadism.
You don't heed Overlord's ask, keeping your lips as sealed as you can as your half-lidded eyes remain on Tarn. You would never even deign to give Overlord the pleasure of your moans. As far as you're concerned, Tarn is the only one who can get you singing, and it'll stay that way.
"What a tight cunt, Tarn can't treat you right? Can't loosen you up?" Overlord sneers as he parts your walls over and over, belittling the other 'Con that he despises so much. So, swinging your dick around is an inherent trait of Cybertronians as well. Nice to know that it isn't just humans.
"Hm? Should I ask Lord Megatron to gift you to me instead? Would you like that, little one?" He runs his dentae over the shell of your ear, the subtle threat lingering that he might bite down on it, if he so pleases. Your non-verbal queues of discomfort are satisfying enough, it ignites a blue fire that enjoys the smoke thick with screams.
"I wouldn't go with you," you retort, "I'm Tarn's."
Such a pity, he's quite enjoying this little hole of yours. He licks your ear before squeezing your jaw harder to make you strain. Fuck, you can't lie that it's starting to feel good, like, really fucking good. His tip kisses that spongy part of your walls that makes you shake.
"I can see why you're lacking in your duties, Tarn," Overlord speaks loudly, to snap Tarn out of his trance, "If I had a pretty cunt like this waiting for me at home, I'd also be distracted."
Tarn's engines rumble so loud that they're clearly audible, you can't imagine the amount of restraint he's demonstrating to stay in line. Megatron watches him like a hawk, looking for even the slightest movement so that he can hammer down a harsher punishment.
Overlord gets off on Tarn's torment, so much so that his intake is dropped in half-moan, half-smile, feeling himself waltz towards the end of his rope. He won't last inside of you as long as he usually would, the alien feeling of your tight pussy parting for him is a feeling he won't soon forget.
Your hands grip the armrests harder, "Not inside!"
Overlord chuckles, your straight protest falling on deaf audials.
"No," you shake your head, trying to use your strength to overrule his and pull yourself off his spike, but it's meaningless, "No, not inside! Overlord!"
You calling his name sends him whittling off the end of the rope, swirling dramatically into a chassis-shaking orgasm, his helm falling back to hit the backrest of the chair as he spills his seed inside of you. You yelp in a pitch higher than you imagined yourself capable of, shivers of disgust spreading up your back like a wildfire.
Overlord spurts more into you than you thought possible, his load almost unending. You clip your tongue, keeping the expletives and insults locked behind the bars of your teeth. You pant heavily through your nose, your jaw tense as he releases it.
"Now that's what I call a good reward," Overlord grins as he pulls you off his spike, shoving your body forward to send you tumbling off the chair. You hit the hard floor on your knees, hands coming down to prevent you from falling straight on your face.
Your lips curl against your teeth as you feel thick globs of transfluid spill from your hole, trailing down to drip onto the floor.
Tarn is itching to cross the floor and reach for you, his vents are whirring rapidly.
Megatron steps towards you, dropping down to one knee to stroke a strong servo over your hair.
"So well behaved," he praises, looking to the side to see Tarn who is practically vibrating, "You can go to him."
You hum a tired but appreciative groan, pulling yourself with the scraps of your strength up onto your feet. You're incredibly exposed, naked as the day you were born in front of the three mechs.
Tarn's optics shimmers as you approach, gushes of transfluid running down the inside of your legs as you walk.
"That's it," Tarn muses as you bring yourself to him, trying his best to encourage you.
"Could you still bring yourself to fuck your pet?" Megatron asks with a clear and strong voice, "After both Overlord and I have had them?"
He's calling back to that time last year that he had Tarn spread your legs wide so that Megatron could fuck you, initiating a threesome.
"They're mine," Tarn comments, "that'll never change."
The grin on Megatron's derma accompanied by the glint in his optics challenges Tarn, it calls for his spark. It sends him into a fighter's instinct, try as he might to deter it.
Megatron wants him to fuck you. Here. Again.
The cloud of that challenge hangs around you, it's something you can sense.
"Get down on your knees," Tarn orders you as he looks at Megatron, not needing to hear the order to follow it.
You mewl, your cunt is still sore from Overlord. Your eyebrows furrow as you hesitantly turn on your toes, gingerly lowering your body to your knees. Hmph, not even a kiss from your lover before he demands your cunt, how callous.
The next thing you hear is a clink-clink-clank as Tarn easily rips the metal bindings that restrict his arms behind his back, proving that they were never truly capable of holding him.
In an instant, Tarn's servo is on the middle of your back, pushing you forward. You grunt as you brace for your landing once again; but it never comes. Tarn's other arm wraps around your middle, keeping you supported as you present yourself to him.
"Tarn," you hush in what you believe to be a warning. Please be gentle.
Riled, angered and provoked by the display from earlier, Tarn holds no reservations in pressurising his spike from his interface panel. You are his, and seeing you get your brains fucked out by someone like Overlord bittered his spark in a truly unique way. In a way that only anything relating to you could facilitate.
Tarn doesn't spare you his usual kindness, his usual preparation. He slides his spike hastily into you in one motion, your ass bouncing as his hips slam into it.
"Tarn!" You huff hoarsely, your hands coming down to hold onto the arm wrapped around your middle. This isn't gentle.
And the matter only worsens as he starts to piston into your cunt with an obsessive drive that only he could be capable of. Your previous encounter with Overlord has loosened you nicely, leaving no resistance for Tarn's spike to lay siege to the walls of your cunt. The transfluid helps too, acting as a lubricant. Even if the thought of Overlord's transfluid spreading over his spike does make his tank fizzle with disgust.
Tarn moans indulgently, the sounds bouncing off the inside of his mask. You preen as you hold onto him tighter, persevering through the madness that you find yourself in.
Your knees are already aching, you feel your joints creaking as your body rocks under his thrusting. You whimper pitifully as you feel your body heat with more excitement, it's a natural response to Tarn's spike being shoved inside you.
Your moans get louder, tears start to roll down your cheeks as your eyes lose focus and your panting is laboured. He promised that he'd let you have him until you passed out, and you think that may be a very real possibility. You just weren't expecting for it to be in front of Overlord and Megatron.
Overlord's spike is secreting transfluid again, a pearl of it swelling on the tip as he listens to Tarn fuck sounds out of you that you kept so well hidden from him.
You sing for Tarn in a beautiful harmony, your cunt pulsing around his spike as he ruins you. He's grunting, groaning and moaning as he focuses on the feel of your pretty pussy, trying to look away from the watchful eyes of the other Decepticons.
"Tarn, baby, please…" You croak with a pout, needing him to slow down or at least go a bit softer. He's fucking you so hard that he'll end up tearing right through you, a pace that feels more like hate-fucking.
"Oh baby," Overlord chortles, clapping his servos together, thoroughly entertained. The fearsome and mighty Tarn being affectionately referred to as 'baby' by a lowly fleshy organic.
The mockery only accelerates Tarn's fury, and his only outlet is currently your body. Your pleas go unheard and he brutalises you at a speed you haven't experienced before. You yelp and scream as his hard plating slaps aggressively against the pliant flesh of your ass and back of your thighs.
Your upper body stretches, your hands pushing against his arm, as if you're trying to pull away from him. But he keeps you anchored, chained under the lashing waves. His thrusting pushes and pulls Overlord's transfluid from you, letting what remnants of it remain drip to the floor.
With mercy, Tarn's free servo snakes around your body to place his middle digit on your clit. He circles quickly, easing the harshness on your body to replace it with pleasure. Your body has been thoroughly used, spikes run through you until your walls throb.
Your head drops forward as airy moans tumble from you, keeping your mind on his skilled digit that will bring you to your peak in no time. He vents rapidly, his cooling fans working so hard that he might take flight at this rate.
His hips snap against you urgently, floating with joy as your tight heat wraps around him. Your body begs for him, it betrays your words by showing him what you truly want. And you always want him to ruin you, if it were up to you, you'd be chained to his berth so that he could come and take you whenever he liked.
"This is how they liked to be fucked," Tarn spits, aimed at Overlord, "you could never even dream of making them feel as good as I can."
"Oh, I don't know about that. Maybe I could convince Lord Megatron to fuck them at the same time as me and make you watch us both take your precious pet? Maybe I'll force you to watch as your pet loses their mind on the end of our spikes?"
The words are muffled warbles in your ears, your blood pumping so fast that you can hear the rush of it in your ears. Tarn snarls at the rebuttal from Overlord, even less impressed by the way Megatron's optical ridge quirked with intrigue.
The dragging of his spike and the firm circles he's giving to your clit are overstimulating you like crazy. You'll be littered with bruises by the morning, thanks to your lover and Overlord. And Tarn will take you again. He'll pin you underneath him and rut you again and again until he's empty. Until one of the crew are forced to interrupt so that they can begin their next mission.
"Mmhmmm fuck, Tarn, please tell me to cum.” You're close, but it's so much sweeter when that smooth voice tells you to do it.
Snapping him from his borderline animalistic trance, he grants you your wish.
"Cum for me, little songbird, cum until you break."
His voice is unbelievably sexy, it's so deep and booming that you feel it in your body. It calls for you to follow his every word, it's a spell cast in velvet tones.
You whine highly as you feel the strings snap and recoil, your body jumping in the pool of ecstasy as you cum around his cock to turn it a milky colour.
The low groan that reverberates in his vocaliser is reward enough, his spike squeezed under the contractions of your pretty pussy.
"And you couldn't even make them overload, Overlord," Megatron presses, fangs on show in a wide grin.
Overlord takes little offence to Megatron's mockery, his goal was not to make you cum, it was to make him cum.
"That can always be changed with a second round," Overlord suggests, eager shimmer twinkling in his optics.
"Never," Tarn practically growls as he chases down his own end, "You won't have them again."
You're nearly limp in Tarn's hold, the numbness from your post-orgasm lucidity helping with the harshness of Tarn's treatment.
Overlord chuckles, willing to accept Tarn's words as a challenge.
Tarn sighs heavenly as his hips stutter, the feeling of your cunt bringing him to the summit of his pleasure. He releases a thick and heavy load into you, filling you to the brim.
He presses into you until he reaches the hilt, halting his hips to keep you plugged up. Your arms are shaking lightly as you hold onto him, your throat tight with thirst as your head spins with dizzyness.
"You were too harsh with me," you pout as Tarn kisses over your mid-section, strong digits softly massaging into the flesh of your thighs, which are heavily bruised. You're now back in the serenity of your habsuite, fresh sheets on your berth soft against your sensitive skin.
He trails kisses over the digit-shaped bruises on your hips, hoping that it brings you some respite. It was sore to walk after they were both done with you, your knees tense and your cunt so tender that you felt it for hours after.
"I'm sorry, little love," Tarn hushes against your skin, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
He was just too consumed by his anger, too blinded to rationalise what he was doing. He fucked you like you were another mech, like your frame could withstand it.
There's quiet classical music playing in the background of your habsuite to keep the atmosphere calm. Your head rolls against the pillow as you look away from him. If you look at him whilst he's being so loving with you, you'll cave. This is about teaching him that he can't be that hard on you again.
"Let me make it up to you," Tarn kisses down your body a little more to brush his jagged lips across your pubic mound.
Your pussy throbs in anticipation, but your head is telling you to stay strong. Don't relent. Don't give in.
And yet, you cave completely with a gasping moan when his glossa drags its first stroke against your clit.
