CATCHALL/OVERFLOW FOR MEMES

[comingupexplody]

Thread getting too steamy for public? Did the meme start captcha-ing? Bring the party here and we'll keep it going!

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[tekhartha]

'Stop'? At first Zenyatta takes him completely at his word and grinds- so to speak- to a halt, visibly startled by the request. But he only has to listen for a moment longer to realise exactly what Jamie is actually getting at, and when he does it makes him laugh one of those bright, gentle chiming laughs.

"Not so weird," he contests good-naturedly, gently easing his hips back again until all but the head of his cock is exposed again, "that your pulse has not risen by another four beats per minute."

He takes a moment to let Jamie speak, admiring, absent-mindedly, the way his arousal gleams about the shaft- and then without so much as a second wasted he thrusts forward again until he's even deeper than he was a moment ago and just short of hilting himself against Jamie's skin.

The result is a sudden, dizzying jolt of pleasure that shoots straight through his neural cortex and strains, just, the limits of his processor. Even before it's faded his back is venting body-warmed steam with a sighing hiss. Trembling, he curls back over Jamie's body. "Oh, Jamie," he repeats, "you are perfect!"

[comingupexplody]

"Hhhf--!" That thrust effectively silences, at least temporarily, whatever complaints Jamison was about to give voice to-- instead he just lets his head tip back against the tire, the muscles of his stomach wound almost painfully tight as his body pushes back against Zenyatta, a silent demand for more. And then he tries to speak, though he remains where he is-- head tipped back, eyes closed, for the time being. "Hh, heh, mmh... y-yeah, 'bout time y'said somethin' reasonable..."

Though his voice is utterly breathless, it's clear he's trying another approach-- deflect the Omnic's attempts to win him over with compliments by obnoxiously accepting them, rather than shooting them down entirely.

[tekhartha]

Perhaps it is tricky of him, in this moment, to take advantage of Jamie's position: head back, eyes closed, spread before him like some lovely and private treasure. But Zenyatta can't help himself. He closes the distance between them and nuzzles the cheek of his faceplate into his bony collar, relishing the damp warmth of his skin, the tic of his throat with every gasp and swallow.

Deflection would probably be more effective on someone less completely and utterly doting. Also someone not emitting pleasured, drunken static like a broken radio.

Still pressed close, he begins to move in earnest: long, deep thrusts, just slowly enough for him to silently map every inch of Jamie's internal geography. He reaches forward, forces their hands to meet, then laces their fingers together and squeezes.

"Here, my star?" Where did that come from? He doesn't think about it overmuch, and instead concentrates on shifting his hips at just the right angle. "You are softest here..."