Because I can't get it out of my head B|

[rungout]

There weren't many that were cut from his mold; not many that took on the task of dealing with the psychiatric needs of others. It was that fact that made him special in a way, but Rung was also good at what he did.

One of the best really.

He'd been doing it for years, working with patient after patient, solving problem after problem, and helping others move on with their lives. He had never once given up on a patient, which helped his reputation, and while moving forward may not have been an option for all of them, Rung stuck with them and kept working with them, even years later.

But, over time, playing head shrink to countless others took it's toll on an individual.

Rung was still good at what he did and had new patients coming in all the time, but what went on behind closed doors had changed.

Drastically.

Under the guise of helping others, he began to use his patients, abusing them in a way that seemed like it was still therapy. But instead of ultimately helping them, he was helping himself, taking what he wanted from others, manipulating them into thinking that this was how it was supposed to be.

To everyone else, he still seemed like the sane, kind-sparked individual that he'd always been.

But there was a darkness there, forged from years of dealing with the problems of others, a darkness that came out in a way that could ruin him forever.

If anyone ever found out that is.

Comments

[rungout]

Oh yes, Perceptor. He wants you. He wants your talents and your willingness.

The sniper is quite talented and Rung can't help but moan softly as those lips work at the base of his spike, pulling at the other's scope without really even realizing he's doing it. His hips rock forward before he can stop himself, forcing the other to take him deeper.

He glances down and there's something of an apologetic look there as he lifts his hand from Perceptor's shoulder to caress the side of his face.

In reality, Rung just doesn't want him to stop and knows that if he shows care the other will keep going.

[gunfondlingbattlestat]

Heat. Heat all against him where Rung presses against his frame, and heat slipping down his intake as little trickles of transfluid are coaxed from Rung's spike. Still more heat courses through his own frame as Rung's hand rakes down against his scope, setting his sensory net alight with delicious pleasure.

Perceptor shifts, tilting his head to one side just enough to rub his cheek against that apologetic hand, but there's a shadow in his adoring gaze... He'd endured far, far worse at Drift's hands, over their brief, bright affair. Endured... enjoyed...

Craved.

He steps up his pace, glossa stroking Rung's length, bobbing his head back for a moment, before pressing back in, trying to suck Rung in even deeper, still. Following the subtle urging of Rung's hands fervently as his hips begin a slow, restless rocking.
H
e growls, low and deep in his vocalizer as he rubs his cheek against Rung's hand again, as if nudging that hand back toward is scope. It's okay, Rung. He can take it. He'll take anything you'll give him. All you have to do is ask.

[rungout]

His optics shudder as Perceptor continues to encourage him, continues to want and take and Primus is it glorious. It's patients like this that make his entire practice worth it; patients like Perceptor that make Rung feel adored and worshiped and that's what he loves. Why he uses them.

Hand finding the sniper's scope again, he clenches it tightly as he leans over some, hunching over the other as it becomes harder and harder to stay upright. His sensors are going crazy, the sensations the other is creating--Primus is he taking it deeper?--making it near impossible for Rung to focus completely.

He does, however, have enough focus to just let go, unable to last more than a few minutes more before his overload hits. A cry escapes the therapist as his body goes rigid for a brief moment before it just erupts in trembles as his fluid floods Perceptor's mouth, Rung clinging to the other--to his scope--as he just rides it out.

And all the while his hips don't stop moving, begging for more even as his systems start to go crazy.

[gunfondlingbattlestat]

It almost hurts, just a little, as Perceptor presses even closer, sucking that spike impossibly deep. He followed Rung as the psychologist hunches over, fingertips digging into the seams of Rung's upper thighs. It does hurt, just a little, as Rung's hands clench on his sensitive scope. It hurts so good.

Perceptor whimpers as he feels Rung begin to tremble and shiver under the onslaught of sensations running through him. Soon. Soon.

Rung's transfluid scalds as it erupts from him, floods his intake, choking him for a moment as he struggles to swallow it don. It's incredible, and delicious, and Perceptor doesn't quite manage to stifle the cry that the clench of Rung's hands wrench from him. His own release is secondary to the pistoning of Rung's hips, and the fluid drooling down his chin.