a sigh. she should have not placed some trust in a suspect (Noan) of all people.
"I believe he failed to teach you what an orgasm is. Which the meaning behind is,
a climax of sexual excitement, characterized by feelings of pleasure centered in the genitals and (in men) experienced as an accompaniment to ejaculation."
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There was ONE good thing about living isolated for years... Lucifer could scamper around his palace, bitching and moaning about how ridiculously uncomfortable he was without risk of an audience. With all that pent-up energy, it was NICE to have so much space to move in. To be as loud and occasionally destructive as needed when the frustrated and lonely tantrums became a bit too much. Now that he's staying at the hotel, his options for releasing this stress are more... limited.
He could go back to his palace... but then he'd be stuck there until his heat wore off. Plus, he'd likely have to make up some excuse for it. And he doesn't trust himself to not get sucked back into that familiar and depressing daze that had overtaken him. Resigning himself to hiding away in his room— a rather LARGE area, not palace-sized but befitting a king —until he can think more clearly and figure out how to keep his ❛ current state ❜ from the others ( especially those who may be more prone to noticing the long-unsatisfied scent of an omega ) , Lucifer had nearly made it. Luck for once seeming to be on his side as he rushed through the halls—
Only to run face-first into a stupid wall of red as he haphazardly rounded a corner. Grumbling as he hastily moved back a step to get some much-needed space between him and the other man, he barks out the first thing to come to mind ( however poorly it fits the moment ) voice breaking against his will, ❝ Why don't you watch where you're going! ❞ - (( *shoves a flustered and bratty King @ Alastor lmao* ))
@burning-fcols
Alastor assumed it a sick joke he was made an alpha in hell after living quite happily as a beta in life. It was a bit surprising he wasn't made an omega seeing as it would fit his demon form rather well, but he wasn't about to complain about that. He longed to make others submit, not the other way around, and that suited the radio demon just fine. Having been so isolated before the hotel, ruts were hardly an issue, he could spend them alone holed up in his radio tower without anyone being the wiser, but now? Now he was accosted by scents at every corner; Charlie obnoxious bubble gum, Vaggie's freshly smithed steel that felt it could cut his throat at any moment, Angel's suffocating cotton candy, Husk's smooth whiskey and Niffty's nose tickling bleach, he hated each and every one. The worst one of the lot was irrefutably Lucifer's though, Alastor hating to admit he found the fresh apple scent rather calming, especially when paired with his own sweet strawberry.
He didn't think it could get any worse, until bumping into the little omega in a hasty retreat to his room. Static crackling, he knew the scent had been stronger than usual, could smell it all the way down in the lobby despite no one else being teased by the crisp aroma. Something wasn't right, and the demon found himself materializing in front of Lucifer before he could think how bad of an idea it was.
It was like a slap to the face, the scent that met him once deer-hoofed boots met the carpet leading to the king's door, the air growing thick and staticky, much like an old television when one touched their finger tips to it, just before it bit back with a shock. Alastor was grabbing the smaller demon before he was even fully formed, his shadow dragging them through the space in-between this realm and the next with only the span of a blink able to pass. "ī ꞩħꝋᵾłđ ħⱥꝟē ҟꞥꝋⱳꞥ ɏꝋᵾ ⱳꝋᵾłđ ƀē ⱥꞥ ꝋᵯēꞡⱥ, łīⱦⱦłē đᵾȼҟ..."
It wasn't until Lucifer had been tossed to the bed clear across the room that sense was able to snap back to the overlord, his eyes wide and smile a bit shaky as a gloved hand pressed over his mouth and nose in a vain attempt to ward off the scent threatening to overtake him. "What sort of fool are you, roaming the halls in such a state!" Luring him in like a moth to flame.
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Quickshadow was a sly bitch.
Charlie knew of her from Heatwave, who once drunkenly confessed that he had an on and off again relationship with her and described how she had severe ptsd and how careful he had to be to keep her from having a flashback from any little noise or movement. He had gotten very descriptive, and with the help of some b grade nuke and some careful visual suggestions, Charlie was confident that he could kill two birds with one stone.
Err, well, stage a murder suicide by priming a slightly suicidal, ex special ops agent to mutilating her boyfriend's corpse and then killing herself.
(fanfic jazz's anything goes special ops, not just strike teams and data harvesting. This one's dark folks, the tags are the tags)
Let's just say it went better than Charlie had hoped.
He lured her to Griffin Rock by sending a very concerning comm from Heatwave's hacked comm link, making him sound like he was having a mental crisis.
Once the nuke was in her body and she saw Heatwave's artificially flickering eyes swinging from the warehouse rafters, she went ballistic, using her old, expired service medical kit as she tried to close the wound on Heatwave's graying body.
When she came off of the nuke enough to understand that Heatwave was already dead, she grabbed her service weapon, nuzzled Heatwave's cheek, and blew her own processor out.
As expected, her life signal going out lead to Jazz and Ratchet investigating, finding the two lovers in the warehouse and driving to the firehouse personally to deliver the news.
Of course, everyone played their part, the right people breaking down and staying stoic. Blades blubbered out the right information that Heatwave hadn't returned from what he had described to be errands.
The transcripts from the deceased comm links backed up his story, and the two were taken away to be prepared for a double funeral, which the whole Burns family showed up for.
It was a quiet affair, Optimus preaching in a droning cybex before blessing Heatwave's stone sarcophagus.
Quickshadow was an atheist, so Jazz set a stone tablet detailing Quickshadow's decorated military service before they were set inside a cave in a canyon in rural Nevada.
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