The sight was indeed divine; here he was, on his knees before her, hands bound behind his back, and this stubborn expression on his face. It almost looked like he was... Pouting.
Arcee smiled and tilted her head. He /was/ pouting! The big, bad Wrecker commander was acting like some sparkling who just got scolded by their creator. But he did agree to play that little game, and hell, Arcee was going to make sure that he doesn't break any of the rules. It took her weeks of convincing and careful planning to get Springer exactly where she wanted him, and she intended to take full advantage of the situation.
"You're kinda adorable when you're pouting, you know that?" She giggled, her fingertips barely ghosting over his cheek, trailing down to grip his chin and tilt his head upwards. Springer's engine rumbled deep in his chest, a deep quiet sound, almost a growl.
"I am not-" He started, by was quickly silenced by the femme's finger pressing against his lips. And... Her heel forcefully grinding against his codpiece.
"Hush, now. Did I allow you to speak...?"
sob how do i anything