WARNING: This story contains extreme sexual violence, rape, and violence in general. DON'T read unless you are prepared for that.

This story directly intertwines with Natural Progression, so they are going to be written together. I hope I can do this story justice. Enjoy the ride. 3

Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me. If it did, you'd know about it. :P

Primacron belongs to Cyndi and used with permission.

Cronus and Oblivion belong to K and are also used with permission.

Everyone else that doesn't belong to Hasbro and Takara belong to me.

Black Roses

1 – Blood and Ichor

I can feel the blood flowin' through my veins,
Spillin' on my soul
And now the hunger is getting bigger,
Come a little closer now, pretentious whore
And pull my trigger

Disturbed – Meaning of Life

Of all the places he ever expected to meet a god, Purgatory wondered how on earth he had managed to meet one in a bar, of all places. There was a place he went to all the time on Cybertron, which could be called classy for the scum of the Universe. Not one person who stepped through its doors could be called an ordinary civilian. To be accepted into the inner circle range, you at least had to have committed a total of ten minor crimes and one major one. The bar was lit with dark green lights as they lit up the mechs and femmes on the dance floor. Sometimes techno-organics stopped by, but that was a rare occasion. In the corner off the dance floor were a few pimps with armfuls of whores, waiting to be purchased for the night. They sat on black leather couches while the rich purchased them, and walked into the back rooms. This particular pub also doubled as a brothel.

Trading of drugs and illegal substances was often done here. The policing force of Cybertron had tried to shut this place down, but with so many of them coming back raped, half beaten, or dead, only the bravest officers dared to prosecute those that hung around this area. It was one of the reasons why Purgatory especially enjoyed this area. It was filthy, it was grand, and most of all it was a place that he called home.

He had been raised in the darkness and with the very worst of society. When he had been thrust into the light, he had found it blinding and irritating. He did not understand goodness or the kindness of people. It had taken him a long time to understand them, but by then he was too far gone to be brought back from the slums in which he was born. Before he had gained himself a name, he had worked up the 'ranks' of sorts on the streets and took the top rank of King.

He was the King of the Damned, and worse still, he was proud of it.

And so Purgatory sat on his stool, looking over the club. Despite being renowned for his job of Spark harvesting, the green-and-purple helicopter was far from unapproachable. He constantly wore a cheeky grin on his face as a default expression that made him seem like a decent person to an outsider. Indeed, he didn't appear to be particularly scary at a first glance.

But looks were always deceiving.

His purple optics flickered as he watched the doors out of the corner of his optic to see who might come through them. He was always on the lookout for new people to enter and see what they did as well as welcoming back people he knew and liked. Although, like was as far as it ever got with him. Many of the people that he took to the bedroom had since figured out that Purgatory lived up to the helicopter reputation of being brutes in the heat of sex. If his size didn't indicate it, how he handled a whip certainly did. Purgatory was vicious.

Often people told him he was incapable of love. Purgatory agreed because he didn't think he was either. But he was happy as he was. He was rich. He was strong. He was content with where he was in life. Aah, being evil was fun.

He looked up as a stranger entered the bar. Interesting; a newbie to the chaos. But this mech … Purgatory's optics zeroed in on the bot.

The stranger was completely black, save for the purple glass of what could be seen of his cockpit just under his chest, and his head crest that looked like the crown of a savage god. His optics were icy purple as well, and his chin stud was silver. The 'copter noticed that the bot seemed … sharp. Every edge seemed to be a straight line, even the full lips and long, pointed nose on his black face. He was quite little, too. Very slender while using a cape made of … Purgatory couldn't guess … made him appear bigger. What he could not place was the feeling of intensity that suddenly gripped his spark. This being … was no ordinary mech. And he was …

There was no other word for it. Purgatory thought that little mech was downright gorgeous. And he suddenly wondered what it would sound like to hear him moan that pretty head of his in ecstasy… and he blinked. THAT was new. Normally it took a lot more for the 'copter to want to fuck someone, but a mere glace at that figure? It sent his lust into overdrive. The 'copter dismissed it for now; he had probably drunk too much.

Everyone hurried to get out of his way as the stranger eased himself onto a stool near him, and ordered something full of dry ice that steamed more than the fog machine itself. Purgatory turned back to the dance floor, but it was very clear that his attention was still riveted on the small, slender mech that had decided to capture his attention.

And then, he spoke from inside his fog cloud. "Take a holo, it'll last longer."

How Purgatory had managed to hear him was a miracle unto itself under the music and bass pumping through the floor. For such a scary, little mech, he was very soft spoken. But because his attention was so focused on the jet, Purgatory had heard him perfectly.

"Hmph. My apologies. I have never seen you before," he sipped his own drink. His own voice in comparison was loud, but to most it was pleasant to hear. He had a soft, growling undertone that added to the sensuality of his voice. The 'copter had bragging rights in that he had often sent people into overload just by whispering in their audios. "You're either incredibly brave, incredibly stupid, or incredibly powerful to be here."

"You're awfully big to say that, you know. But I like them big and stupid," the black bot replied in that hissing whisper…

"Heh, oh really?" suddenly Purgatory felt a bit miffed. This bot had a lot of nerve! "Then I guess you must be one of the powerful ones to be here,"

"I'm more powerful than anyone in this room,"

"Hmm, interesting," he replied, "What's your name, O Powerful One?"

"Primacron," he sipped his drink again, watching for a reaction. "You?"

He grinned. "That would translate to 'darkness', would it not?"

"Wow, your intelligence astounds me,"

"You should never judge a person by appearance alone, after all,"

Primacron looked at him, icy optics revealing nothing. He asked, "What is your name?"

"Purgatory," he replied, grinning and baring a rusted fang. While he kept his body in tip top shape, he had not made it into a habit of keeping his teeth very clean. It was only a bit of rust that was quite easy to clean off, but he did have a little bit of laziness in him. He had just never had a reason to clean them, and they certainly scared people. It also put people off kissing him, which was also another intention.

However … this mech was someone he would like to taste. Inwardly, he decided that he would brush his teeth if he was lucky enough to score with him.

The bot exhaled a huge gush of smoke through his nose, his drink finished. He smirked at the helicopter, who towered over him. To most, his own smirk would be pleasant if his optics weren't so very icy. "Your name says a lot about you. Naming yourself after the limbo between death and the afterlife...I wonder what made you choose that name?"

"You could say it refers to my profession," he looked at Primacron, "So since your name means dark, am I assuming correctly if I say you are a being of darkness, or maybe even a God?"

If possible, Primacron's optics got even colder as his smirk widened. "The God of Darkness."

"Well then, it is an honour to meet you, Sir God of Darkness," he was getting more and more interested in this little mech now. Wow, a God! "And here I thought I would never meet a god in person."

Well, he never expected to meet Primus, in any case. He had heard of Unicron and had wondered if maybe he was Primus' antithesis, but that was clearly not the case. What was ironic was he was basically sitting with possibly the most evil Transformer to exist ... and yet fear wasn't an emotion that was particularly prominent. Far from it ... maybe he really had drunk too much not to fear someone who could blow him apart with a mere look

But life wasn't fun without it.

"Consider yourself lucky then. Now don't anger me, or you won't live to tell about it," the god grinned at him in a way that Purgatory would recognise later on meant Primacron was a bit intoxicated.

Purgatory stood up and came over to sit next to him at that. So he was right ... this god could easily kill him. So, he just kept up his smarmy grin and asked, "Then would it please you if I brought you another drink?"

Primacron made a gesture to the bar and Purgatory took that as a message that he could go for his life. So he ordered another drink for him and one for himself. Sipping his new cube of black energon, he asked, "Ever tried Black energon?" He had brought Primacron an Arctic Whip AND a cube of the black stuff. Hey, if the god didn't want it he figured he could drink it. Purgatory enjoyed the feeling of getting drunk, although the hangovers in the morning were no fun and often left him feeling sick and his temper very short. The good thing about running his own business was that he could take all the breaks he wanted, so his workers knew to stay the hell away from him when he was nursing a processor ache of epic proportions.

The god muttered something negative about his teeth that he didn't catch completely, but he got the hint pretty damn fast that if he wanted him, he'd better clean up. He kept that mental note very clear in his mind because hey, he didn't care too much if he had to clean them ...

Out loud, Primacron said, "You can have the black energon. I prefer straight oil when I drink dark drinks."

"HA! I love the teeth. Gives people quite the scare when I smile. The fear is delicious," and Purgatory swigged from the cube.

"There are other ways to frighten people, you know," Primacron clicked his claws on the tabletop with a sharp rapping sound, and Purgatory noticed they were at least three times as long as normal claws. Oh, wicked. "Nightmares, making them think you love them and then breaking their heart... it's classic."

"Oooh that's always fun."

And he began to tell Primacron all about this foolish mech who he'd had a one-night stand with who didn't realise it was a one-night stand. It was one of his best ways to be a real asshole, and he especially enjoyed doing it to virgins. "Not as good as what you've done, I can imagine. But it's still a lot of fun."

"What about tearing into the weak until they weep?" he finished the Arctic Whip and set it down on the bar, where it still smoked. The god turned towards the mortal as if he was studying him. "I think I enjoy taking mechs larger than myself, actually. More to grab," and he smirked, giving the 'copter a tiny glimpse of what looked like a very sharp set of fangs in his mouth.

"I see, interesting thought there," he looked over Primacron's smaller form to do a bit of a study himself, and noted that he really didn't seem to reflect light... "It is interesting that you have chosen such a small form. While your personality is what I expected from the Lord of Darkness, I never expected you to have the body of a Seeker," although he did think it was extremely sexy. Such power in such a small form? Oh yeah, he was good and horny now.

Primacron turned his back to the bar and crossed his long leg one over the other, as if he was putting himself on display. And it was working.

"That's the point. What frightens you more? That which you can see coming, or something that can be anywhere?" and he eyed the mortal that had dared to step into his parlour.

Purgatory leaned back against the bar and looked over him, making no secret that he was indeed checking Primacron out. "Hmm, good point. That is why I like my alt mode. Helicopters can be rather terrifying," he looked at Primacron's hands once again. "May I take your hand, Primacron?" he always liked looking at a bot's hands. They told a lot about a person just from their shape and their size, all down to the tiny bits of damage that were un-removable even by the best of medics.

"My hand? Hm," it seemed as though Primacron enjoyed that kind of attention, if his little smirk was anything to go by. He finished his second drink and let Purgatory take his hand. His hands were narrow with very long fingers ending in vicious claws, and the 'copter knew that those fingers had ripped out more than a few people's hearts and souls in both the literal and metaphorical sense. Purgatory found his hands to be very elegant and quite a thrill to hold, knowing what they could do and the sheer power they held. He had never seen hands quite like his in the millions of years he had been alive.

He smirked at the black mech. "Quite vicious looking hands you have. I bet you could do some wicked things with them," and he let go. "Quite dainty too, if I may say so. What a contradiction!"

And in a very bold move, Primacron slowly lifted one of those hands and ran a claw across Purgatory's broad chest. It didn't hurt, but the way he did it … oh to Primus, he was a tease!

"You have no idea," the god purred.

"Hmmm..." it was a thoughtful noise as well as a pleasurable one because his mind had suitably been slammed even further into the gutter. "Would I have the honour as to find out, my Lord?"

"So you can brag that you plugged a god?" Primacron met his optics, purple on purple. His next line cemented the beginning of their relationship. "Fine by me."

And to Primus if his ego had just inflated at least double. Hell YES! "Well, you have to admit, Primacron, it's not often you get the chance," and he eyed him again. Primacron was surprising for the god of darkness, and he realised that he was very clean and crisp. So, he ventured to say, "Want me to brush my teeth?"

"Please do. I like rust sticks, not rust teeth," he said rather derisively. Okay, the god was playing hard to get. He could deal with that. Besides, it was rather fun!

"Wait here, please," said Purgatory and ducked out for a moment to the restrooms. It was easy to clean teeth – it wasn't like organics who, if they let their teeth get into this condition they would never recover. It was more like the build up of moss on the side of a swimming pool. It didn't take long to remove most of it as Purgatory eyed his reflection in the mirror. In the morning he would wonder how the slag he had coughed up the bravery to jump into bed with someone who was most likely going to be quite vicious, but Purgatory liked it when people were rough with him. Very few had the guts to do it, and those that did were more often than not rather pathetic at it.

He returned to the bar with his teeth quite clean several minutes later. "Better?" he asked.

"Muchly," the god ordered himself a shot of gourmet grade and downed it just for a kick. Then he flashed Purgatory a glowing blue vial attached to a syringe. The mortal eyed it to see if he could guess the contents, but could not.

"Feel like a real ride, Purgatory?" he asked, offering no explanation.

"Ooo a virus?" he looked interested, "What does that one do? It looks interesting."

"It won't kill you. But it makes the world interesting." A cryptic response. Purgatory wondered if this was some kind of test of his nerve.

He shrugged inwardly; Black energon was full of drugs anyway so he didn't see how this could be any worse. "Hmm .... Sure, why not?"

Primacron handed him the vial and he injected it into his energon lines. He felt a rush go straight to his head and he had to blink a couple of times to get used to the sudden invasion. His nano-immune system was nightmarishly strong from his time spent working in brothels where yearly vaccinations were required for all whores, so he had to temporarily disable it in order for the virus to work.

He looked amazed the affects. Suddenly everything was a different colour, and fractal lines were curling around the bodies in the room and around Primacron himself. "Woah, now that's some trippin' effects," he turned to the god of Darkness, "You certainly look different pink."

The Seeker laughed at that. It was a sound that might have scared the hell out of people, but Purgatory thought it was a damn sexy laugh. And then the mortal stiffened a little in shock and reflex as Primacron moved over to straddle Purgatory's lap, making him taller so they were practically face to face.

"In a few minutes, I'll be another colour," he started scratching his chest lightly, but not altogether gently, those long claws leaving faint marks in his glossy paintjob.

"Hmmm ... nice..." he smirked and grabbed Primacron's aft under the cloak, giving it a bit of a claw back in response to the one on his chest, and said, "I suppose it would be foolish of me to think that you being smaller means you like being dominated?"

He really didn't care if he took the bottom for a GOD. But he did wonder if he liked pain… And he ran his hand up Primacron's back, wondering if like mortal Seekers there would be some nice pleasure spots there ...

Primacron raked his claws across Purgatory's mouth and the mortal found himself nipping the tips of his fingers. The god grinned at him and leaned close to whisper in his audio… "I like to ride jacks. I like tight ports. I like..." He leaned even closer, "…cracking whips. Chain, leather...it doesn't matter."

Oh yeah, now the 'copter was starting to spark. That harsh, hissing voice sent shivers down his back, and he grinned at the god's words. "Mm, you can ride me all you like, God of Darkness. Do you like whips on you, or using them?" he moved his hands down Primacron's sides, getting under a piece of plating with his thumbs and rubbing all of the sensor bundles he found. Despite having such a unique body shape, Purgatory quickly found that he had a lot of things in common with a typical Seeker body, specifically flight sensors being in the same spots that felt damn brilliant when stimulated.

The god arched his back to those fingers and grinned, baring a fang. "Using them, naturally," and Primacron gave him a light slap. "I'm an excellent dominatrix," his codpiece was getting warmer and the mortal's was as well. They were pressed together, black on black, and purple optics met. Purgatory grinned at him. A free uplink, who was he to pass one up? There was no meaning behind this other than pleasure, and it showed in their optics when they looked at one another. Nothing but the cold, heartless emotion of lust.

"Well, well, I am glad. We have the same colour optics. Although, not now. You turned purple," he grabbed Primacron's aft to push their codpieces together more, creating sparks, before moving his hand back where it was before, pressing hard against the sensor bundles so the response could be a mix of pain or pleasure ... depending on the mech.

He watched as Primacronleaned his head back, exposing his throat almost in an invitation for Purgatory to take advantage. The mortal didn't realise that the dark god was also on the same drug and oh he liked seeing the little Seeker arch back like that. So he leaned forward to bite his neck at the invitation and licking over it, his fingers still pressing against the sensors he had found earlier.

"Do you enjoy being tied up?" Primacron whispered in his low, raspy voice.

"Depends on whether I can still touch. And if it was chains that bound me," his own voice had gotten deeper, almost a growl.

Quite suddenly, Primacron's hands snapped around his own back like a viper striking its prey to grab the silver hands of the mortal daring to touch him, and pinned Purgatory's hands to the bar's top. Even if the helicopter decided to struggle, he realised that there was no way he could ever break that grip, and his optics widened slightly. Holy hell, Primacron was strong!

But then Primacron leaned over and he was wearing a truly evil smile. "I like dominating helpless mechs. Can you handle that?" his tone made it clear that if Purgatory didn't agree, things were going to go sour very quickly.

Despite that tone and the slight fear that had sprung up when Primacron grabbed him, he relaxed slightly at that. So that was all? "I can certainly try, God of Darkness," an evil smile of his own crossed his face. "Shall we?"

The tension in the air seemed to evaporate and Primacron let him go, sliding off his lap. "Of course," and the god turned his back on him and proceeded to walk away. Was it a test to see if Purgatory would attack him? The mortal didn't know. But he stood up himself and followed, checking him out. The Seeker had long legs and a very nice aft from when the wind caught his cape and exposed it … but attacking was the last thing on his mind.

Primacron made an upwards gesture with his chin as his ship de-cloaked, hovering above the bar on its antigravity stabilizer. They use so little power he could leave it there for a million years before the fuel ran out, and it was as black as the god it belonged to, almost as though it sucked in all the light around it. Purgatory whistled at the ship. It was a nice one, and he made a mental note to get himself something more fuel efficient. The one he had was powerful, but it used a lot more fuel.

"Meet you there," the god smirked, simply levitating off the ground and into the open hatch on the bottom. Purgatory grinned and activated the jets on his back, following the Seeker.

The ship was dark, lit with dim, purple lighting here and there along the walls. They were tiny light bulbs; the Earth equivalent to Christmas lights in shape and size. Purgatory had lived and worked at night a lot so the darkness was easy for him to see in. He followed the smaller bot in front of him along the corridors, and noticed how Primacron didn't reflect any of the light at all. He had never met a mech like this before in his life, and he could feel his desire growing. Primacron would likely sense it, but at that moment Purgatory didn't really care.

Primacron led him to his grand quarters in the back, which were almost identical to the ones on his favourite base, minus the cushion on the berth. It had all kinds of equipment next to it, and the berth itself had handcuffs and chains along with some drawers underneath that had to contain even more nasties.

"Go lie down. You must be so tired after doing whatever dirty work it is you've been doing," the words were spoken in a sultry, even pleasant tone.

The mortal looked around the room before the god spoke and met his words with a grin. The lair of a god ... he had to appreciate that. He did as he was told and lay on the berth, smirking, "Why thank you, Lord."

Primacron smirked … and as soon as he did, cuffs lashed out as if brought to life and cuffed Purgatory down spread-eagle on the berth. He tensed for a moment then relaxed, not looking too bothered by being suddenly pinned. "Heh, well, I should have known. What are these made of?" he jiggled his hand a bit so the metal clanged.

"Adamantium," Primacron responded. Purgatory noticed that only his optics and chin stud were really visible in the darkness of the room… although the drug he was on suddenly decided to turn him blue.

He whistled, "Niiiice ... You're blue now, by the way."

"And you look orange,"

Purgatory heard a hint of amusement in his tone as the god opened a storage cupboard to pull out several things, including a ramrod and some chains. He licked his lips and watched with interest. The fractal patterns seemed to curve around Primacron's body as if in a caress, and although he would have preferred to be able to touch, he shrugged to himself and supposed that the dark god liked doing his own thing. So, he lay back and waited, relaxed.

"If you behave, I might let you up afterward..." the god turned to face him and the mortal realised he had just had his mind read. It made him smirk, and even more so when he watched Primacron play with a link of a chain like he would a jack before he shoved his finger through it and let the length dangle to the floor. With a flick, he tossed the chain so it landed across Purgatory's chest. Then he turned the tickle rod on low and touched the end of the chain still in his hand, sending the charge through...

"I'd like that," he finally replied as he watched the Seeker, letting out a little growl as the chains landed on his chest with a clank. He shivered at the charge that ran through him and sent delightful tingles to his Spark.

And then he smacked him with the leather whip, right across the soles of his feet. Purgatory yelped in both surprise and pain and Primacron grinned. It wasn't like at the bar...it showed his fangs, like a predator that knew it had its prey.

"The safety word is 'love'," Primacron smacked him again.

He growled this time because he was more prepared.It hurt but it hurt so damn good … and Primacron looked hot when he cracked a whip. "Ugh, love, eh? Alright—OOH!" he watched Primacron whirl the whip over his head and smack him on the left foot.

"Good boy," The god whispered as he walked up to him and grabbed the chain, grasping it just like he held the whip in his other hand. "Because this is really going to hurt," and he smacked him across the chest with the chain!

And the 'copter arched up with a cry of pain. Oh daaamn! He thought to himself as it took him a second to recover from that before smirking, "You're right, you are a good dominatrix!"

The god didn't reply verbally. Instead he answered with a good smack with the chain for good measure before he ran the tickle rod across the same area. It was set on low, to 'tickle' rather than cause pain. Except instead of pulling back he dragged it down to Purgatory's codpiece and let it sit there for a moment or two.

"NNNGH!" he cried out again, arching in pain before relaxing again, panting. He groaned at the tickle rod on his codpiece. Sparks started to fly from it—he was getting very wound up from the abuse. Primacron wielded his toys like an artist.

The Seeker moved down to speak in his audio sensor. "Like that, bitch?" at the same time, he turned the setting on the rod up to medium—to a tingle that many find uncomfortable, though not painful. "How badly do you want me?" he lifted the rod, cutting off the stimulation.

"Nnngh…right now, quite a—ugh—lot!" He groaned, almost whimpering as the rod was removed. And that voice in his audio sensor … oh, it just further served to arouse him, sparks zapping down the top of his thighs.

"That's a good mech,"

Primacron patted his head in a gesture meant to be degrading. Purgatory normally hated that kind of treatment unless he was the one administering it, but he was having so much fun right now that he didn't really care what Primacron did to him. The smaller mech coiled the chain up on his chest and looked into his eyes while reaching back. Back, back, back—until the next sound was Purgatory's codpiece hitting the floor. Then Primacron looked over to examine it.

His jack extended with a soft hiss from the heat and sparks when Primacron removed the covering. He was above average in size, proportionate to his body, but not as big as someone like Cronus.

The god leaned down and BIT it.

Sparks shot down his jack, "Aagh! Oh you're twisted and I love it!" He groaned.

Primacron chuckled at that and rubbed the tickle rod down, looking for his port. And when he found it, he shoved it in as far as he could and turned it on. High. The rod met some resistance due to spikes inside his port but the mortal's body visibly shuddered and then arched like a bow. And this was done while he treated his jack like a rust stick with his mouth, almost gently…

Purgatory cried out in pain and pleasure. The spikes in his port made it even more painful, but then pain and pleasure were so close together that they felt almost the same. "AAGH!"

Primacron seemed to ignore him as he sucked on the jack, doing obscene things with his tongue and licking the base, feeling the ridges from where the piece of anatomy collapsed back when not in use; like a portable cup. Purgatory could feel every move of that tongue and every zap of that ramrod up his port … and he was just about to overload when suddenly Primacron pulled back!

He was panting heavily from the pain and pleasure, and he stared at the god, shocked for a moment because—oh gods—he had almost got off from that, but then he felt amused. He really wanted it, and it seemed Primacron wanted him to beg for it, so he said, "Please Lord, keep going..."

Primacron remained where he was until Purgatory calmed down a little...and then he advanced again, swinging himself over the berth to straddle him, getting down nose to nose, his black cape spreading around them like the night sky without stars, and just as quiet. Purgatory met those purple optics with a smirk, but the soft panting betrayed his incredibly aroused state. The god reached down to feel Purgatory's port and found the spikes.

"Ooh...is this a mod?" he said with a smirk.

The 'copter grinned. "You like?"

He wished he could touch this delicious god … but he remembered Primacron's words. He hoped he would be able to please him enough to be granted such a treat.

"Mmhmm...."

Primacron reached down and shoved one of those long fingers up that spiked port, and Purgatory let out a sound that was a mixture of a grunt and a snarl. He let his head fall back and bared his own set of fangs for the god to see, and it was in that moment that without any preamble, Primacron shoved his jack up the mortal's port. Purgatory snarled in pleasure when he did that, the spikes scraping the metal and digging in painfully. The mortal noticed that the moment of penetration seemed to make Primacron's face almost peaceful, and he grinned.

The moment didn't last long as he let out the charge that had been stored in his systems from his earlier near-overload state. It shot from his port and straight through Primacron's jack to go through his body.

"Mmmgh!" Primacron suddenly gripped the sides of the berth, his fingers getting caught in the chain and pulling it taut across Purgatory's chest. Up until now, the 'copter hadn't known if Primacron was horny or not, but he felt the burning jack in his port and then the god started pounding into him with a vicious snarl. He bucked back as much as he could with his hands and legs cuffed, the electricity crackling between them zapping the god all over again, harder this time. Purgatory grinned and snarled again, meeting every thrust with his own.

It was like he was fucking a shadow with how Primacron hovered over him… he unshackled Purgatory's hands all of a sudden and he took each shock and replied with his own, sometimes scratching with his clawed fingertips. And as soon as he was unshackled, he grabbed Primacron around his hip with one hand and rammed him in hard, snarling in pleasure while his other hand clawed down his back, growling and crying out and the zaps. It wouldn't be long before he overloaded at this rate, so he made sure that the god got exactly what he wanted as far as his hands were concerned!

"Yesssssssssssss!" he hissed and leaned down suddenly to bite Purgatory's shoulder. The mortal felt his thrusts become more erratic and his own were as well, a sign that they were on the edge of an overload. He could feel the spikes tear at the metal on the god's jack, energon trickling out and mixing with the lubricant his port had produced.

"Zap me, bitch!" Primacron snarled, baring his fangs. It was a sign that Purgatory would one day know meant the god was having a good overload.

"RAAAGH!" he roared as he zapped Primacron with all the sexual energy he could muster, his hand on the Seeker's hip and helping him keep his balance as he rammed right back. So close, so close!

In the middle of pounding him, Primacron grabbed the tickle rod, slammed it against Purgatory's jack and turned it on as high as he could, which made it electrify them both since they were touching just slightly. Purgatory could see his face clenching … now it was a war of who overloaded first.

And while he would like to get Primacron off first, there was no way he could deny it with that against his jack. With an almighty roar and a huge pleasure zap to the god, he overloaded hard. He saw static as he overloaded … He felt Primacron go over almost the same time, felt his body clench and the electricity from the god would have made him overload again if they weren't so close. He panted hard, hand on Primacron's hip and the other on his back, just sitting there because right now he was too dazed to move them. Oh man, gods were good.

Primacron flopped on top of his chest, hands pressed to where pectoral muscles would be if they were human. Their embrace was a mockery of those that loved each other, and neither of them cared.

"You are good," the god breathed out.

"As are you, God of Darkness," Purgatory grinned and lay back, patting the Seeker's back and moving his hand up from his hip to his waist. Inwardly he was a bit giddy because he felt so damn lucky! How many people could say that they fucked a god and lived to tell the tale? "Haven't had a mech who had the courage to do that to me in eons."

The Seeker laughed at that and tapped his long fingers on Purgatory's chest. "The mechs I've done that to have always been unwilling. So a willing partner is rather fascinating...and you can now truthfully proclaim how you were taken by a god."

"Hmm, glad I was able to give you a ... different experience than the norm," a smirk. "And I suppose that is something to brag about," he looked pleased, and said, "You can take me anytime you want if you use that whip again. You look hot cracking whips," his voice was a bit lower than it usually was and had a rougher texture to it straight after an overload. He noticed Primacron was a little quieter than before, which was laughable because the mortal had noticed he was rather soft spoken … except those moans, guh!

"You look sexy when you arch up in pain," they smirked at each other. Mmm, ego strokes. Purgatory loved them.

"Why thank you, Primacron," he ran his clawed finger up the god's back and then down again, almost a caress ... almost. It might have even tickled for all he knew. And he was rewarded when the smaller bot on top of him shivered a bit at that and unshackled Purgatory's feet. Taking the hint, Purgatory continued to rub up and down and was rewarded with a murmur of approval and then he bent his legs at the knees to make sure he could actually walk before sitting up on his elbows.

"We definitely need to do this again," the god said, grinning.

"Mm, I'd like that. How often do you come here?" Purgatory asked.

"I'm a regular," he seemed to be hinting at something, because he smirked wider and said. "Oh, help, the big mech is loose and I'm all alone. Whatever will I do?"

A laugh at that, "Oh, I don't know ... cuff him, chain him, and fuck him like a bitch?" he smirked right back.

"That's so horrible, you rapist. Oh, help, rapist!" he laughed at his own bad imitation of someone in distress, and Purgatory joined in with him as he grabbed Primacron in his big arms in a bear hug, knowing the god could easily break it. "Uh oh, the rapist got you. Whatcha gonna do?"

He squirmed back and forth. "You better let go. I might scream," and then he cackled. "Interesting, you just turned brown with orange spots."

He held on tighter just because he could, "Oh, please do scream. It excites me," he blinked, "You're yellow with green stripes. That is some twisted virus."

He burst out laughing and imitated the death scream of some mech he heard being murdered in the alley last night.

He shivered at that, "Oooh you're gonna get me all hot and bothered if you keep that up."

The Seeker snickered and bit his neck, and the next two words made Purgatory inwardly delighted and the opportunity.

"Plug me," he said, pulling himself out of Purgatory's port. " I know you want to. Show me what you do to people."

He growled at the bite and pulled Primacron close by the hip, a vicious grin on his face, "I would love to. Would you object to ..." he thought about the way he had jumped people and thrown them to the ground, viciously taking them. "....that?"

A smirk. He might be horny and all, but to hell if he wanted to piss a god off and ruin one hell of an evening. Dying wasn't something he had particularly planned on wanting to happen any time soon, after all.

"Mm...sometimes being thrown around is exciting. It's been awhile since someone mutilated me," he let out a strange, metallic rumble that sounded similar to a growl. Purgatory would one day realise it was the god purring. "It's hilarious how many people think I can be killed like any mortal."

"Ooh ... but killing you would be such a shame." And he grabbed the god by the shoulders and pushed him down on the berth, leaning down and biting his neck with a growl. With his hand, he clawed down the Seeker's chest hard, and he was rewarded with a bite and no resistance. So Primacron meant it? Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Oh, get off. You horrible, brutal beast!" Primacron said with a grin, trying to imitate a helpless victim.

"Scream for me, and I might consider it," he mocked, getting under the armour with a claw and raking the sensors there as he spread Primacron's legs roughly. He liked to take people hard, fast and rough as all hell. And he bit him on the neck so hard his fangs dinted the metal. An effective robot hicky.

The god threw his hands up and did that fake death scream again, though it dissolved into a cackle that sounded like something from an extremely well made horror film. "Mmmmh," he arched into the hands abusing his body.

"Sorry, my distressed damsel, not workin' on me," while he didn't actually have any real tools like the god did, he was strong. And he used it well as he clawed over the flawless armour, creating deep marks. The claw on his sensors ripped out in one fluid motion, effectively tearing them out of their sockets.

Primacron withered in true pain at that, and Purgatory could tell he was riled up nicely by the smell. A wonderful mixture of copper and hot oil scent filled the air like liquid lust. Considering he was playing with the god of Darkness, it made sense to him to smell like that. Hell if they did this in public like the bar, Primacron could probably turn everyone on from his scent alone!

And he rammed inside the god hard, pulling him against his chest in a move that would have broken the back of a normal mech, and zapped him before taking the Seeker hard with a snarl. He felt some things break, Primacron's legs shifted to wrap around his hips and that port … oh, it was like fucking fire! It was actually painful for him for a moment, but it was delicious and it only spurred him on, snarling and zapping Primacron hard again. Oh, every time he thrust he could feel the heat and lubricant … it was something he knew he would probably grow addicted to wanting and he didn't care. He clawed down the Seeker's back viciously, leaving deep marks.

He could feel Primacron starting to leak energon from the cuts, but it didn't seem like he cared. He just raked his claws down Purgatory's chest, leaving distinct marks that would tell the world who he fucked the night before, and Purgatory arched to the touch. Oh gods, yes—and he liked being marked, especially if it was by a god! He continued to thrust into that hot, hot port, harder and faster, more erratic, and zapped him again with a deep snarl.

In response, Primacron started moaning!

"Mmh...mmh...OOH!"

He watched through static-laced vision as Primacron arched up with a cry and the mortal felt him overload with a gush of lubricant and a shock of electricity. Purgatory snarled and overloaded so hard he saw white as the god's claws dug so far into his back that he felt energon flow around his fingers. He bit the god's neck. He knew those hands could do some damage! And those legs around his waist felt so damn good; like they belonged there ... he fell heavily on the god, panting hard. Perfect overloads were damn hard to get, and he grinned a little through breathing against his neck. It figured that a god would cause him to have one.

He blinked and then said, "You feel like you're made of fire," and to his amusement, Primacron looked crimson at the moment.

Primacron grinned and ravished him with a kiss that would have made an organic gag with how far back his tongue went, but Purgatory moaned and kissed him back. They did things that not even porn would show and the mortal loved how Primacron tasted. They kissed for a little while before pulling back, and Purgatory licked his lips when the god spoke.

"When people say I'm 'hot stuff', they don't lie," he grinned, baring a fang. "I certainly enjoyed myself," he tapped his claws up the 'copter's back.

"Indeed .... as did I," he blinked and touched his back, realising he was bleeding. "Wow, you're the first person to make me bleed with your hands alone," he whistled in admiration and sat up, taking his weight off Primacron so he could sit up.

"Now everyone will know where you disappeared to," Primacron purred as he licked his fingertip, and to the gods—if Purgatory wasn't so spent he would've pounced him right there.

"Heh, let 'em figure it out," he looked amused and noticed the claw marks on Primacron as well. "So, want to go back to the bar and get a drink or ...?" he didn't really know what came next on the god's agenda.

"Fine, why not?" Primacron slapped Purgatory's aft and shoved him off.

The gesture was rough and Purgatory fell back on his aft with an 'oof!', but he noticed the look in the god's optics and realised he was being playful. When the Seeker stood, he saw some trickles of energon on his legs and that Primacron made no move to wipe it off. That made him grin in amusement as his codpiece slid back into place. He was bleeding on his back and had claw marks in various places that his medic was going to have a ball fixing, but for now he stood and followed the god outside once more.

They went back to the bar and the two of them got a lot of looks, especially as Purgatory looked so damn smug right now, and Primacron noticed the expression. They sat at the bar and ordered a drink like before as if nothing had happened, but the smirk they shared and looking around the bar with a pair of icy purple optics each, the people in the bar knew that something had occurred that the pair of them would not see for a little while yet.

It was the beginning of a relationship. What type? No one in that bar knew. But as the pair drunk and showed off their wounds, complimenting each other on their strengths … they knew with dread in their fuel tanks that it wouldn't bode well for the Universe.