Bite

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
IDW
Drift/Wing
sticky, PWP. 

For tf_speedwriting  prompt which was pretty much just to write pwp.  I was going to try to write Drift/Percy, but…whatever. And this was supposed to be fluffy, but...it's not. So. Let's tally. NOT REALLY PWP, not the pairing I'd intended, and not pink and fluffy like I'd wanted. Yeah, wilkommen auf my fail.

 

Wing had sprawled on his belly, arms thrown around an imaginary partner, it seemed, when Drift turned from where he’d been staring at the city from the small balcony.  Wing slept, as he did, apparently, everything—with a single-minded intensity and focus. 

Drift eased one knee back onto the berth, studying Wing’s naked backspan. The Great Sword hung on its brackets on the wall, leaving the back exposed, a broad channel between the armor of the wings.  The wings were folded, smooth overlapping panels sliding together, almost hiding the attachment points for the heavy sheath.  Almost.

Drift wanted to touch—he reached his hands out, trailing over the long spines that formed the leading edges of the wings when unfurled.  Wing sighed at the touch, the spines pushing gently into Drift’s palms.  Drift dropped slowly to one hip, one side, letting his top hand explore the wing, maze through the panels, his fingers sliding between them, and down, the armor silky under his touch.  Wing made a soft sound, halfway to a moan, his shoulders shifting, thigh sliding along the berth, knee bent.  Drift let his hand wander down to that hip, down that thigh, grazing over the stabilizer jutting from the knee.  Wing rolled his hip into the touch with another semi-moan, one hand clutching at the flat metal of the berth. Drift grinned in the dark, reveling in Wing’s responses, his EM field flaring with desire. 

He bent his head, nuzzling first against the Great Sword’s attachment point, flicking a curious glossa against one, rewarded with a shiver from the jet.  He nipped it, hearing Wing’s ventilation catch, before he slid his mouth up the groove left for the sword, the center of Wing’s spinal strutwork, his hand sliding up the back of the outstretched thigh, fingers flirting in the gap between the thigh and Wing’s interface panel.  Wing shivered again, hips squirming under Drift’s hand, his own EM tingling against Drift’s.  Drift could feel heat under his palm, his own spike prickling online, wanting. 

And Wing…wasn’t resisting.  He sighed again, mouth open, wings riffling against Drift’s chassis as he pulled himself closer to the jet's body.  Drift flicked the interface hatch open, smoothly, letting his fingers do a quick, light circuit of the valve cover, autoreleasing his own equipment before he snaked his arm under Wing’s to pull the jet’s torso against his.  His spike jutted against the jet’s back, a hard, hot presence.  Wing whimpered, still half in recharge.  Drift ground his spike against the jet’s backframe, leaning his helm down to run his mouth against the exposed cables at the back of Wing’s neck, between the bulk of the nacelles. He felt  himself shiver with desire, hesitating, before rocking his hips back, bringing his spike to the mouth of the valve.

“Yes?” his voice was raw with lust and the control it took to restrain himself from just plunging ahead, respecting this barrier, this boundary. Before, he would simply have taken, imposed, forced.  But not, somehow, with Wing.  The jet had some invisible, intangible defenses.

“Yes.” Wing’s voice was as soft and insubstantial as an echo, as he tipped his hipframe back, inviting, welcoming, his optic shutters barely cracked, as though he were still half in recharge, in the thrall of some sensuous memory purge.

Drift’s desires voiced a growl that he sank into a cable on Wing’s neck as he pushed himself into the valve, slowly, feeling the heat and the pressure and the slickness over his sensors, the shape of the valve changing, rippling against him as he pushed in.  He moved his weight, further onto the jet, his knee against the back of Wing’s, thighs in contact, his body compressing the wings, his hands coming up to curl over Wing’s hands, interlacing their fingers as he began slowly moving in the valve, grinding at the top of each thrust, driving the top of his spike against the valve’s ceiling node cluster. Wing whimpered, quivering underneath him, but not from pain. And Drift didn’t know how he knew that, but he did, that Wing’s sounds, the twitches of his body were from something far, far removed from pain. 

Drift felt something stupid, a helpless, needing, weak confession, start to boil up in him, like pressure from his spark chamber.  He buried it, biting into the cable under his mouth until energon welled around his dentae, the mesh yielding under the sharp ridges of his metal teeth, weakness ceding to strength, to the ability to cause pain to this thing he…did not want to admit feeling. Wing moaned, his hands clutching around Drift’s fingers, spine arching into Drift’s body, mouth opening, ventilations panting down between them.  Drift thrusts became harder, more insistent, letting lust take over from sentiment, deliberately washing away the weakness of his former gentleness, his fingers squeezing back against Wing’s, his desire becoming feral, selfish, until he jolted, spine curved into the thrust, locked for a moment from the electrical discharge of the overload. 

Wing’s overload echoed Drift’s—hard, fierce, but somehow less conflicted, purer in intensity. His frame arched off the berth, lifting Drift’s weight with him, palms jammed against the berth’s surface as tremors wracked him, quivering with the hot rush of Drift’s overload in his valve, the hard bite of Drift's dentae in his throat.  

Wing flopped back down, spreading his fingers to release Drift’s, his vents deepening to long, slow pulls of cooling air. 

Drift, suddenly self-conscious, released his bite on Wing’s neck, licking half ruefully, half still enflamed with embers of desire, at the leaking energon.  He edged his hips back, easing his spike from the valve as gently as he could, as if that would make up for his previous selfish, hard thoughtlessness. 

Wing moved, pulling Drift’s arm against his chassis, rolling gently to one side, hooking his ankle over Drift’s so that they were still locked in physical contact, Drift’s spike once again pressed between their bodies, hot and slick from their combined fluid.

“Sorry,” Drift muttered, the taste of Wing’s energon bittersweet in his mouth. He ducked his head, the crest of his helm on the back of Wing’s, head bowed.

“For what?” Wing seemed drowsy, distant, on a cloud of pleasure.  Not probing, but asking. As though he could not possibly think of anything that needed apology.

Drift faltered. He’d never been good with words, and never even tried to analyze his own responses, explain why he felt any of the things he felt.  He just…did. He didn’t think. “Hurting you?” he said, finally, as something he could express, that he hoped would forestall any further questions, prevent him from having to think.

Wing turned his head, over his shoulder, so that Drift had to move his, lift his.  Wing’s optics were, as always, warm and gold and open as he studied Drift’s face, dropping to the energon-stained lips. A drip of energon seeped from the split cable, dripping down into Wing's neck.  He tilted his chin up, inviting a kiss, flicking his glossa against Drift’s mouth. “Don’t be,” he breathed. 

 

 

Comments

[chibirisuchan.livejournal.com]

meep!

Drift: Oh hi, I didn't quite realize I was a sadist.

Wing: Don't worry, I've always known I was a masochist. <3

...somehow, given their relative amounts of self-knowledge, this does not surprise me in the least!

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Wing really does have a surprising level of self-awareness. :D

Glad you liked it!

[sasuke-emosauce.livejournal.com]

Sleeping Wing is irresistible. This is so sensuous and...just asklsdkhglf

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

I-is that Maru? /easily distracted

Glad you liked!

[gatekat.livejournal.com]

Daaamn. Hot and character-building and lovely. Everything I adore about your writing. Even the PWPs aren't.

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

[ravynfyre.livejournal.com]

hofuck..... This is... guh. *wordless with the hotness*

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked. Drift can't keep his little hands to himself.

[femme4jack.livejournal.com]

;algkjakslgdjigth;gafdljkfad

*thud*

How am I supposed to go to sleep now, huh?

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Sorry? I had no ideas at all for what to write, but Sunday's my sleep-in day (which only sounds blasphemous until you realize that 'sleep in' to me means 7 am) and while I was sort of half awake the idea came to me. :D

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

please pardon the mess.... i melted. hnnnng

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked :D

[anavidbookworm.livejournal.com]

I enjoy your fluffy stories but I almost like these slightly darker ones better. You still have warm elements to this like Drift's apology at the end which leaves a nice feeling. And it's hot which is always nice.