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The pain turned into blossoming heat along his jaw hydraulics and actuators, moving up his warmed cheekplates to the corners of his crinkled, violet-tinged optics.
Quark could hardly feel the strain of the speculum any longer; it pried open his mouth, adjusted to keep it open wide by force. Quark could barely swallow, circuits along his lips and corners of his mouth twitching against the pressure. He vented loudly, heavily through the device, chest rising and falling in a slightly quickened pace.
The pain along his jaw and face distracted him from the equally painful, if not strange sensations below. On his knees, hands pressed firmly to the ground but shaking, he’d managed to slide down on the length of the glass, cylindrical speculum, right down to the hilt. The glass had been cool, at first, his adjusting channel walls twitching. Neither speculum in either orifice felt particularly good, but this was how the foreplay went.
Quark was a team player–sometimes it just took a little extra persuasion.
“I need you to open juuuust a little wider,” Brainstorm hummed, working the speculum in Quark mouth.
Quark moaned, unable to speak; he squeezed his optics shut, strained mouth forced open another half-inch. Any farther and the dermal plating at the corners of lips would start to crack and rip. His teeth ground uncomfortably along both top and bottom of the device, occasionally biting down in an attempt to relax his jaw and hydraulics.
Finally, Brainstorm stepped back, giving a thumbs up. He winked, a smile under his maskplate. “Great job, partner,” he chuckled. “Lookin’ real good, too, if I might add.”
Quark grumbled low in his throat. He was hardly amused. Next time he would be a bit more careful in agreeing to try out Brainstorm’s crazy fetishes. This speculum was designed a bit differently, and during set-up, Brainstorm had gently–and playfully–pulled Quark’s tongue free to rest along the smooth metal of the bottom blade.
“I don’t wanna go too fast, but I promise not to take too long, okay?” Brainstorm reassured, sounding so carefree and relaxed while his partner was impaled on a speculum with a second forcing his mouth open awkwardly.
Quark blinked then looked down as Brainstorm’s codpiece opened, his unit pressurizing. Quark knew where this was going, and while the flier’s size had never been anything too remarkable, in this case, it might be too much. “I did the measurements,” Brainstorm reassured with a dismissive hand swish.
Quark didn’t look too confident.
“You know, just blink three times if you want me to stop.”
Quark nodded once. Well, no point of going through all this pain for nothing.
Brainstorm stepped forward, placing one hand on top of Quark’s head, feeling the heat rising beneath the lens. “Open wide~” he teased. Aligning himself, he gave Quark another three seconds to relax before slowly sliding his aroused unit inside the metal funnel. It ran over Quark’s tongue, going deeper and deeper, waiting for any sign of pain or complaint. Aside from some groaning and a little cough, Brainstorm thrust most of his unit in his partner’s bound mouth with little problem.
“Use your tongue, okay?” Brainstorm said. He placed both hands on the sides of Quark’s helm, tracing circles along the cylinders above his cheekguards. Started pumping slowly.
Quark winced. His glasses tilted. He couldn’t do much, really; Brainstorm knew that. It made him wonder why he wanted to do this in the first place. Unable to suck or lick (much), Brainstorm might as well just be plowing into a silicone toy. Slightly disturbing connotations, but Quark ignored them for now. His tongue weakly ground up against the sawing unit.
Brainstorm seemed to be having fun, though. “Mm, s-start rolling y-your hips,” he exvented, optics lidded.
Quark hesitated. The speculum inside his channel was at least warm now. He rolled down, forward, taking another inch, and though it definitely caused a stirring, it wasn’t very stimulating. Even as he picked up the pace alongside the flier’s unit fucking his mouth, there wasn’t much pleasure (or pain) derived from the medical tool. It didn’t serve that purpose, after all.
Quark tilted his head back, brushing repeatedly with Brainstorm’s groin plating. His moans came out muffled and vibrated. Fingers closed and quivered, edges biting into the steel floor. He tried not to lean back, one knee actuator cramping.
Quark closed his optics, browplates furrowing; he focused on the taste, the texture of Brainstorm’s unit riding his tongue, brushing his intake. Smooth with a few wound cables and biolights warm to the touch. Tasted electric and invigorating, almost.
Suddenly, Brainstorm stopped, his unit half-thrust inside Quark’s mouth. He grabbed onto Quark’s head, holding it firmly in place. Quark knew what this meant, and quickly prepared himself–overload followed a moment later, transfluid pouring down his throat, and the ‘scope did his damn hardest to swallow it all. What he didn’t manage to choke down with this intrusive, impeding device in his mouth spilled free from his lips.
Brainstorm sighed, backstrut relaxing. He looked down at his partner, staring up at him with pleading optics. He wanted this damn speculum out–well, both of them. Brainstorm pulled himself free, going on one knee before Quark. “Here, here,” he said, adjusting and loosening the speculum. As he pulled it out, Quark’s tongue hovering, more beads of transfluid dribbled free.
Brainstorm sat the speculum aside, and Quark coughed, instantly rolling and rubbing his sore jaw. “You’re… so weird…” he scowled hoarsely, took another swallow of the tangy fluid.
Brainstorm laughed. He slid his knuckles beneath Quark’s chin, thumb gently wiping away a bead of transfluid. “How ever do you put up with me?”